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Did you like this book? Then you’ll LOVE Bound by the Bratva, a Russian mafia romance trilogy.

I was innocent… until he stole my innocence away.

Aleksander Antonov, head of the Russian mafia.

He has more power at his fingertips than the average man does.

And he wants me.

He makes it so easy to fall in love with him.

Until I find out what kind of monster he is.

Now I’m stuck in a marriage to him,

Filled with darkness and torture.

Alek has made it his mission to hurt me.

And yet he expects me to give him my heart.

But how could I ever love a cruel man like him?

I need to escape him.

The question is how.

Will I survive this marriage and get away…

Or will Alek decide to end my life all together?

There’s only one way to find out:

I must endure a marriage that is slowly killing me.

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Sneak Peek - Chapter One

Alek

A red glow filters through the dark room, making everything look more seductive. That’s the way I want it. The more seductive it looks, the more my customers pay. It also makes the women appear sexier and more mysterious, which is important, considering they’re the moneymakers of my club. Drinks flow freely. Women walk around half-naked, de livering said drinks to said customers, who eye the women with lustful gazes. Soft music pulses through the speakers as one of the women dances on the stage, grinding herself into the pole.

This strip club—The Pink Paradise—was one of my first properties after I became head of the Bratva in New York City. My father, who ran the mafia before me, thought it would be tacky to own a strip club, but I saw the money-making potential in it. Plenty of thirsty, desperate men in New York looking to stare at half-naked women. Sometimes the women are fully naked—though only on weekdays. It helps draw in crowds during the week, earning more money.

And that’s how I run things—through the lens of how I can earn the most money and still keep my business safe. I’m not a risk taker. I’m not a businessman.

I sip on my glass of whiskey as I watch one of the club’s better dancers—Anya. With a curvy body that any man would be desperate to get his hands on and stunning red hair, she’s a favorite for sure. Out of all the girls who work here, she gets asked for the most lap dances and earns the most money in tips during her dances. She’s also the one who most often gets asked to go to our private rooms for … more than just a dance. It’s technically illegal for them to provide sexual services, but I allow it. More money means more power. Even when I get the occasional woman crying to me about not wanting to do that part of the job, I tell her she can either do it or get out. I don’t have time for insecurities. I need confident women who want to work here. It just means more money in my pocket.

Anya gives me a wink as she shimmies over the pole. She’s wearing the smallest bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Combine that with her tiny thong, and she’s practically naked on stage. Soon, she’ll be fully naked, but it’s the tease that creates the most excitement. I look around at the crowded room full of aroused men who’re practically drooling at the sight of her. Their hands fly out as they pass her tips, aching to touch her hips or trail their fingers over her thighs. I like to watch this show go down. It makes me feel even more powerful knowing I’m the one who employed Anya. In a way, that makes her mine.

A lot of the women who come here for a job owe me money, or their families owe me. I tell them they can pay off their debt by working here, but only if they’re one hundred percent sure. The other option is homelessness. Or … I kill them or their family members for not paying me back what I owe. I don’t give a lot of options, but that’s what happens when you get into bed with the fucking Bratva. I’m ruthless. Take it or leave. Simple as that.

Anya drops to her knees and crawls over to a man who looks like he’s barely out of high school. Shit. He may even be still in high school. As long as he’s paying, I’ll look the other way. Anya dips her chest lower to give the boy a good look at her cleavage. Her breasts practically fall out of the bra. I can’t wait till she takes it off. And she will. And she’ll do it for me.

Anya is an interesting case considering she didn’t come to work here to pay off any debts. She told me that she just liked to dance and that there wasn’t a job more suited for her than this one. I hired her on the spot. I wish more of my employees were like here—strong, competent, brave.

Another one of my girls, Stacey, walks by, carrying another glass on her tray. “Do you need another, sir?” she asks.

“Thank you,” I murmur, grabbing the new glass. I spank her ass lightly as she walks away, and she smiles at me over her shoulder. Stacey is one of the cuter girls at my club. With light blonde hair, blue eyes, and a round face, she has an innocent look about her. She began working for me when she needed to pay off her brother’s debts. Once she finished, she decided to continue working here even though I told her she could go. She said the money was too good to leave. I appreciate that. A girl after my own heart—one who understands the power of money.

I lean back in my seat and open my legs wide. Kitty, another dancer, eyes me as she walks up to me. Her long brown hair covers her small breasts. “Would you like some company, sir?” Her eyes flit down to my lap, and she frowns a little. I’m not excited. It takes a lot to get me turned on. In fact, it takes a special kind of woman. Most of the women here could do it if I were in the mood—I’d gladly fuck any of them—but I also get bored easily. Not many women can capture my interest and retain it. The only one who has slightly managed so far is Anya, and even she can bore me at times. Kitty is beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I’m just used to looking at beautiful women all day. I need more than beauty to get my cock hard.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want some fun right now. So I motion for Kitty to come closer. Her eyes light up, and she straddles me, her ass on my lap. All the women I employ like to have a piece of me. I’m a hot commodity—with my money, power, and good looks. It’s not vain of me to say, but I know I’m attractive. I’ve tailored my look to be so. I keep my brown hair slightly ruffled. I’ve found that they prefer that over a slicked-back look. It also helps to make me look less intimidating, which I like. It shocks people more when they realize just how cruel I can be. I was blessed with striking blue eyes and a strong jawline. But my body is all my work. I exercise for several hours a day. I need to keep myself fit and strong to deal with enemies who think they have a chance of going against me. I also like that women find my muscular build attractive. I love a good fuck session, and being in shape helps with that.

Kitty grins her hips down, giving me a true lap dance. I don’t touch her. I just watch as she puts on her best sultry look and begins to moan, thinking that’s what I want. But I don’t care for a fake show of pleasure. I want the real thing.

I grip her waist. “Kitty, stop pretending.”

She bites her lip and nods before resuming her lap dance sans moaning.

“Much better,” I say. The smile she gives me is genuine.

I let Kitty continue her work as I look over her shoulder at Anya, who’s now noticed Kitty on top of my lap. Anya pouts and makes her way toward me, making a big show of finally taking her top off, which gets a lot of hollers from the men in the crowd. She tosses it toward me, and it lands on Kitty’s head.

Kitty huffs and tosses the bra away. “Seriously?” she says to Anya over her shoulder. “Can't you see we’re in the middle of something?”

“Yes, I can see that. I just figured Mr. Antonov would rather see me than you.” Anya grips her breasts. “Don’t you prefer this, Alek?”

The man sitting next to me—greasy-haired and smelly—says, “You’re so lucky.”

I grip Kitty’s waist and push her off me. “Enough of that for now.” I slip Kitty a hundred-dollar bill. “For the inconvenience. Now go find someone else.” Kitty shrugs and wanders off. I turn back to Anya. “Why are you talking to me, Anya? Finish your dance. Other men want to see you, too. And never call me by my name. You will refer to me as ‘sir’ or ‘boss’.”

She pouts again but nods and continues dancing, turning to the other men and showing off her gorgeous body. Her breasts are a thing of beauty; I’ll give her that. But how dare she step out of line and address me like that. She hasn’t earned the right to call me by my name. And my nickname on top of that.

My full name is Aleksander Antonov, but the closest people in my life call me Alek. I prefer it. It’s simpler. Doesn’t make me sound like a Russian oligarch from the eighteenth century.

Anya lays down on her back and lifts her legs in the air, deliberately right in front of me. Then she pulls that ridiculous thong down, giving me a good look at her pussy and creating chaos in the crowd. Men toss dollar after dollar bill at her. Some look so crazed that I’m convinced they’ll run on stage. I have security all around the club to make sure nothing like that happens. I may be ruthless when it comes to my girls, but I also protect them. You work for me? I’ll protect you whether you’re a stripper at my club or one of my inner circle.

And speaking of my inner circle, Mikhail Smirnoff appears. “You’re in my seat,” he says to the greasy-haired man next to me.

“I was here first,” the man replies.

Mikhail gives the man a charming smile before clapping a hand on his shoulder and saying, “If you don’t move now, I’ll dig my finger into your eye and scoop it right out of its socket. Understood?”

The man looks between Mikhail and me. I don’t make a move to stop either of them. Finally, the man looks back at Mikhail and notices him glaring. Shuddering, he stands up and walks away. Thank fucking god. I was getting tired of his smell.

Mikhail takes the now empty seat. “What have I missed?” He sees Anya dancing on the pole, completely naked. “Apparently, a lot.”

“Did you need something, Mikhail?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Anya.

“Can’t your second in command just enjoy your company and the company of all these lovely ladies?”

“Yes. But you seem jittery. You only get that way when you have news to share with me.”

“As a matter of fact, I do have news. We have a chance to expand our empire even more.”

Anya winks at me as she grinds herself onto the pole. “What is it?” I ask.

“So, you are listening. I wasn’t sure.”

I finally look away from Anya and turn to Mikhail. “Better?”

“Yes. The expansion would be with Gabriel Rossi. He wants to join forces and—”

“No,” I cut him off. “I’m not about to work with the fucking Italians. I know they trade in the drug business, and I’m not interested in that. I deal in clubs and hotels, restaurants, and other legal businesses. It’s helped me bring in even more under the pretense of being an upstanding businessman. It keeps the fucking cops off my back. I’m not about to get in bed with another mafia boss notorious for his men getting busted by cops. He’s careless and reckless. I’m neither of those things. And how did you hear about this anyway?”

Mikhail rubs the back of his neck. “He approached me with this deal.”

I snort. “So, he didn’t even have the balls to face me himself. That tells you everything you need to know. Gabriel Rossi is not a man I want to go into business with.”

“But think of all the money you could bring in.”

“I bring a lot in through dealing with guns as well as all my businesses. That’s plenty for me.”

“I thought you were all about money this and money that.”

“I am. I bring in millions a year, Mikhail. I’ve helped you bring in millions a year. I’m not about to risk all that by joining forces with Rossi, who’ll only get us busted by the fucking police, and then our empire will burn to the ground. I could lose everything. I’m not going to risk that. And the only reason Rossi went to you with this proposal is that he knew I’d turn him down to his face, and his pride wouldn’t allow himself that. So, tell him no, thank you. I’m not interested.” I turn back to Anya, who’s now crawling on the stage, giving me a good look at her ass. God, I want to grip that ass in my hands as I fuck her. I just might have to tonight. I’m feeling bent up and frustrated, especially by Mikhail. He’s my number two; he should know better than to come to me with ridiculous proposals.

“Fine. I’ll tell Rossi that. Let’s just hope he doesn’t try to blow up one of your properties. You know how he can get.”

“I do. And that’s exactly why I don’t want to work with him. I have security at each of my properties. He won’t get close enough to blow anything up so tell him not to even bother. Now, I’d like to enjoy the show in peace.”

Anya dances off the stage and onto the floor, approaching me. Other men watch with envy.

“Would you like to go somewhere private?” she says in a sultry tone.

“Collect your money and meet me back there.” I motion toward one of the back rooms before giving Mikhail a nod. “Be smarter than this.”

Mikhail just watches Anya as she grabs her money and I head to the private room decorated in deep reds, blacks, and purples. A large bed dominates the space, which is soundproofed for even more privacy. I can’t even hear the moans and grunts from the other private rooms in here.

I sit on the bed, my legs wide, my hands clasped together. Anya enters, still naked except for her high heels. I don’t say a word as she kneels before me. I do stop her, though, when she tries undoing my pants.

“I want to fuck you,” I say. “Get on the bed.”

Her eyes light up, and she moves with remarkable elegance and quickness in her high heels. She lies down on her back and spreads her legs wide.

“No. On your knees. Away from me.”

She smiles as she gets into the correct position. I grab a condom from the bowl next to the bed. I have no desire to contract any sexual diseases. Besides, it’s a requirement that any man must use a condom when getting intimate with any of my girls. I don’t want to lose them to pregnancy or cause an outbreak of disease. If any man is caught not using a condom, I have no qualms about making him disappear forever.

I undo my pants and pull out my semi-erect cock. I stare at Anya’s ass for a moment, rubbing myself, getting harder. Once I’m ready, I slip on the condom, then grip her hips and enter her in one thrust. Anya moans like her life depends on it. Then I fuck her with all of my might.

Anya is a wildcat in bed. She knows how to make the best sounds to get me harder and how to move her body in conjunction with mine. She’s good; I’ll give her that.

But she’s still just my employee. One I like to fuck, yes, but nothing more.

I fuck her roughly, not holding back. I know she can take it.

My release hits me after a few minutes of fucking. Anya moans louder. Once I’m satisfied, I pull out of her. She drops down to the bed and rolls over, eyeing me up with a seductive look most men would dream of.

“Good for you?” she purrs, roaming her hands up and down her body.

“Yes. I expect it was good for you.”

She stretches. “Fuck yes. You’re the best lover I have.”

A sudden anger goes over me, and I lean down and grip her jaw, startling. “I’m not your lover, Anya. I’m your boss. Don’t get it confused. We’re not in a relationship. I just like to fuck you on occasion. I also do the same to the other women here. Don’t think you’re any more special than any of the others. You hear me?”

Her eyes are wide as she nods.

“Good.” As I let her go, she slumps back onto the bed. “Now, go back out there and put on another show. You have more money to make, don’t you? Oh.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a hundred-dollar bill. “For you.” I toss it at her, and it lands on her stomach.

Anya looks like she wants to cry, but she takes the money and stands up. “I’m just your whore, then?”

“You’ve never been anything other than that.” I leave her there as I walk out of the room.

The rest of the evening passes by uneventfully. Anya does another show, but she doesn’t quite give me the same attention as before though she still passes me looks. She can’t help herself. Mikhail has left, probably to inform Rossi of the news. Everything is as it should be.

I have to force out the last customer because he wants to see Stacey dance some more, but I push him out the door, where he lands on his ass. Not my problem. I shut the door behind me and turn to face my girls, who are all lined up, fully clothed.

“Count your tips and inform Roger of how much you earned tonight.” Roger handles the club’s financials. “You ladies are free to go.”

They all murmur to each other as they head to the bar to count their tips.

I only leave once everyone else has gone.

Sammy, the club’s bouncer, opens the front door and calls out to me. “Hey, boss. There’s someone here who says he needs to talk to you.”

I sigh. “Who is it?”

“Grigor Ivanov.”

“Let him in.”

An older man, probably in his early sixties, enters the club. He has a head full of gray hair and sunspots covering his face and hands. Someone should really be using sunscreen.

“Grigor,” I greet. “Welcome. Do you have the money you owe me?” Grigor is one of my employees. He’s worked for the Russian mafia since my father was in charge. But Grigor fell onto hard times after my father died, and I recently caught him trying to steal from me. I told him that all debts would be forgiven if he just paid me back.

Grigor approaches me, wringing his hands. “Uh, is there somewhere private we could go?”

“No. Do you have my money or not, Grigor?” I won’t let this little weasel beat around the bush.

Grigor hangs his head. “No.”

I grimace. I could shake the man. No, I’m going to kill him. There’s no other way. No one gets to steal from me and live with it.

I turn to the women still at the bar. “You should all leave now. Now .”

They scramble up and quickly leave the club. Anya gives me a lingering look, but I ignore her.

I look back at Grigor. “You don’t have my money?”

“I just didn’t have time to get more of it. But if you give me more time, I swear, I’ll pay every penny back.”

When I grab the back of Grigor’s neck, he yelps. “You see, Grigor, I know you have a gambling problem. My father looked the other way, but I won’t. You don’t get to steal from me and then gamble all my money away and expect me to be ok with that. If you can’t produce the money now, I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” I push him away so hard that he falls to his knees.

“Please, please. I don’t want to die.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to gamble all my money away.” I pull my gun out of my back pocket. I like to have it close to me, always. It’s almost like a security blanket. I aim it at Grigor’s head. “Unless you can give me the money now, I’m going to shoot you.”

“Wait. Wait! What if I can promise you something else instead?”

I pause. “Like what? Unless it’s money, I doubt I’ll be interested. You better make this worth my while, Grigor. I haven’t eaten dinner yet. I’m getting hungry, and you’re wasting my time.”

Grigor hesitates.

“What are you offering me?”

Grigor hangs his head.

I sigh and roll my neck. “Too late, Grigor. You’re fucking dead.”

“My daughter!”

I go still. “What?”

Grigor lifts his head back up. “I can offer you my daughter in exchange for my debts. You do that here. You let women work for you to pay off debts.”

“That’s true. I do. But never daughters of mafia men. Usually, the women who work here are in debt themselves, or they’re the daughters of drug addicts and gamblers. Never mafia girls.” In my culture, I was taught to respect mafia women. My mother was one before her death. My grandmother was one as well. When you’re head of the mafia, mafia women are prized, not glorified.

But … I guess I could make an exception this once. Grigor, in the past, has been handy when it comes to negotiations. It would be a shame to lose him.

“My daughter is a good girl, sir,” Grigor says. “She’s submissive. She’ll work for you. She would help me pay off my debts. I know she would.”

“Does she know you’re selling her into servitude?”

Grigor looks away.

“I’ll take that as a no. Poor girl.” I chuckle and lower my gun. “Let me see a photo of her. I need to know what I’m working with.”

Grigor fumbles for his phone and pulls up a picture of her. “This is Katia.”

Suffice it to say Katia is … fucking beautiful.

She has the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Her red hair is luscious. And the smattering of freckles across her nose makes her look innocent. I’m surrounded by beautiful women every day, but Katia … She takes the cake.

Just looking at her, I know I want her to be mine.

Then an idea occurs.

“I’ll take her,” I say. “Your debts will be forgiven.” Grigor slumps forward in relief. “But,” he looks up, his expression as I continue, “she’s not going to be my employee. No. Since she’s mafia and beautiful, I want her to be my wife. I’ll have complete control over her, which means complete control over you, Grigor. Now, how does that sound?”

Most people would be thrilled for a powerful man like me to marry their daughter, but Grigor understands this isn’t a good thing. Grigor can never escape me now. Not when I’ll own his daughter in marriage.

“How does that sound, Grigor?” I repeat, getting a kick out of his struggle.

Grigor finally meets my gaze. “It sounds … good, sir. You may have my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

I smile darkly. “Good.”

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