Vegas Bratva Kings

My dream? Escape this hellhole and become a songwriter in L.A. My reality? My scumbag father emptied my bank account and bet me in a poker game. Not just to anyone—but to Radomir Molchanov. The King of Vegas. The sinfully drop-dead gorgeous owner of the Diamond Hotel and Casino. Oh, and the cold-blooded head of the Molchanov Bratva. Radomir has claimed me—body and soul. His touch sets me on fire, his icy gaze sends shivers down my spine, and his cruel smirk reminds me that he owns me.

I expected to wake up tangled in my husband's arms. His wicked hands dragging me back into bliss. Instead, I'm barefoot on a freezing cot and I'm dressed like a trauma surgeon who lost her shoes. This sucks and I'm scared. The cotton sheets and silk robes are gone, replaced by chains, shadows, and a cast-iron door. At first, I thought it was Radomir. That two-timing bastard must have found out I was going to leave him. But the truth is far worse. I've been kidnapped. Not by just anyone—but by the monster from my nightmares. He wants what's locked inside my mind.

It started as a stupid, desperate plan. Fake the baby bump. Claim my sister's secret love child as mine. Lie to everyone, including the most dangerous man in Vegas. Then my sister disappeared. Her forbidden lover and his wife got blown to bits in a car bomb. And I bankrupted myself trying to find her. That's when he found me.