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Bogdan was no fool. Dante wanted his daughter dead, and even though he didn’t want this marriage, he found the woman before him intriguing. Her mother had taken her away from the family. She was not warped or manipulated.

In the mornings, she sat on the sofa, eating a bowl of cereal, laughing at cartoons. She cooked and cleaned when given the chance. He rarely gave her time alone. He always moved her around, never wanting her to get too comfortable. And yet, she never made any kind of waves.

It had been three months since he married her. There was no chance of her being pregnant, as he knew when her cycle hit. She didn’t show the pain, but he knew.

Her father, Dante, constantly reminded him that if his daughter stepped out of line, he had the man’s permission to end her life. It had been a long time since he’d met someone who wanted him to kill a family member so badly.

Bogdan, being the curious man he was, did some digging. While Anastasia was alive, her mother’s inheritance belonged to her. Anastasia was a very wealthy woman. He wondered if she even knew it.

Her father wanted her dead for multiple reasons. Bogdan was no fool. Killing Anastasia would also create war between his Bratva and Dante’s family. It had taken too long to broker peace.

He liked killing. Lived for it. He was an expert in ending a man’s life. But he was not going to bring blood to the Galkin Bratva.

He also happened to enjoy watching his wife. She was different. Even now, did she have any idea that he followed her out here? She made no complaints during the past three months. He barely spoke a word to her. She rarely said anything back to him. She stayed quiet. The perfect little wife.

“I miss you, Mom,” she said.

Bogdan heard her. He also heard the sniffle. Was his wife crying?

He stepped out of the shadows just as Anastasia spun toward him, and she let out a gasp.

“Mr. Evanoff,” she said. “You scared me.”

“Bogdan.”

She had dropped her gaze and this time, she looked up. “Huh?”

“We’re married. You don’t have to call me Mister anything.” He moved in closer. “Unless, of course, you would like to call me Sir?”

He could handle Sir spilling from her lips.

She frowned and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m sorry. I just needed some air.”

He moved toward the wall that overlooked the gardens. “It’s a glorious night.” This was the most either of them had spoken.

Bogdan hadn’t quite prepared for their first conversation to be at a party. He saw the pain in Anastasia’s eyes. She missed her mother. He’d just heard her say those exact words. And he didn’t, for some odd reason, want her hurting.

“Most summer nights are.”

He waited to see what she would do. Would she step back inside to the safety of the party, or come and stand by him? Bogdan was used to women being attracted to him and fearing him.

Anastasia surprised him, as she came to stand beside him. She was not too close, nor was she far away.

“It reminds me of many summer nights I spent with my mom,” she said.

Bogdan didn’t say anything and heard her chuckle.

“We’d pull out a tent, and we’d have a whole picnic at night, and then we’d sometimes sleep on the ground.

Especially if it was warm. Of course, we often woke up, and it was freezing.

” There was that chuckle again. “I think at one point a couple of slugs or even a snail crawled over us.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Mom always made sure we got into the tent after that. Sleeping out in the open, although fun, was a little gross.”

She turned toward him with a smile.

This woman was not meant for their world. By living with her mother away from the bullshit, she hadn’t developed a coldness. From his notes on Evelyn, she had been the same as well.

Her mother hadn’t wanted to risk her children. Evelyn had two sisters and three brothers. But all five of her siblings had been killed, along with her parents. Anastasia was the only one left. It was why she was destined to inherit a small fortune—one he had a feeling Dante wanted.

“Sorry,” Anastasia said.

“I have never been still long enough for slugs or snails to crawl over me.”

He turned toward Anastasia, and she had the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen.

In all his thirty-nine years, he had seen a lot of death and evil.

He’d stared many different people in the eye, and not once had he seen someone with so much kindness, so much love.

There was nothing tainting her gaze. She was open. Anastasia was a rare gem.

When her father had approached him with marriage, as had Galkin, he wanted to decline. He was not a Brigadier. He was a killer. Admittedly, he was Galkin’s lead man, and that made him even bigger than any Brigadier, but that was beside the point. He had no intention of marrying.

He had told Galkin no. Galkin told him to meet with her first, and then decide. Anastasia was just ... different. He was now married.

The ceremony of the sheets had been interesting. Dante had assumed his daughter was no virgin, and yet she had been exactly that. Bogdan had never been a woman’s first, until Anastasia. He’d not taken her since that night.

Although he attempted to be gentle, he had wanted to be done with it so she would no longer have to deal with the pain. He’d been rough, fast, and then her blood and his semen had spilled onto the sheets. Now, as he looked at her, he felt the longing that had started that night.

“Well, maybe you need to camp outside, in the open. It is an eye-opening experience.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. Please don’t do that. My mom had to try and take them off my body.”

“Them?”

“Yeah, there was like two or three. It was gross. Let’s not talk about it, since it doesn’t exactly give you any kind of positivity about camping out in the open.”

“Your mother sounds nice,” he said.

“She was nice.”

“And you miss her?”

“You heard that?”

“Yes.”

Anastasia took a deep breath and then glanced back toward the house. “I bet she would know how to handle these parties.”

“You’re doing great.”

“I stand around and I know people don’t like me. Why do you keep bringing me?”

He lifted up. He was taller than her, but Anastasia tilted her head back, looking up at him. Her head came to his chest. Not too much taller.

“You’re my wife and your place is right by my side.”

“I’m an outsider, Bogdan,” she said, repeating his name slowly. “We both know I’m not really supposed to be here.”

He closed the distance between them, not that there was much. “And where are you supposed to be?” he asked.

She hesitated and then tilted her head to the side. “Doesn’t my dad want you to kill me?”

End of sample chapter