Desiree

There are many rules a priest can't break. A priest cannot marry. A priest cannot abandon his flock. A priest cannot forsake his God. I've always been good at following rules. Until she came. Then I learned new rules.

In 2013, 23-year old Molly Diamond is a barista, dreaming of becoming a writer. One night at a concert in East Williamsburg, she locks eyes with the lead singer, Jake Danner, and can’t look away. Molly and Jake fall quickly and deeply in love, especially after he writes a hit song about her that puts his band on the map.

Keeping her safe was my job. Keeping her for myself became my obsession. She is a Russian mafia princess, kidnapped to be used as a pawn in a deadly turf war. I was hired to bring her home, but the moment I saw her I knew I must have her for myself. She can run, but I will always be watching from the shadows. Like a feral beast stalking his prey, waiting for the right moment to take what is mine. I am her protector, but no one can protect her from me.

Bratva life is simple: You steal from the brotherhood, you pay with your life. But the thief is a woman, and she’s too beautiful to die. My wedding band will be her collar. Our vows will be her shackles. She will be my captive bride.

The more she fights me, the more I want her. That beautiful, sassy mouth of hers makes me want to push her to her knees and dominate her. I'm a Russian arms dealer and she's an innocent college student who doesn't even know she belongs to me yet, but that will change when I yank those skimpy shorts down and spank her bright red. I will teach her not to show off what is mine. Then I will make her scream my name. I had no right to take her, but I dare you to try to take her from me.

I came for my money. I took her instead. She's not the one who stole from me. She's a pawn caught up in her family's deadly game. It doesn't matter. Her innocence won't save her from me. I could just let her return the money, but as I stare down at the beautiful creature stretched out before me like a virgin sacrifice, I thank God for every sin that has blackened my cold heart. Because I'm going to make her beg, scream, and suffer for me. Then I'm going to make her mine.

I didn't come to her apartment planning to tie her to her bed and ravage her. A Russian arms dealer has no need for an innocent schoolteacher. I would have done what I came to do and left, but when she opened those gorgeous red lips and threatened to scream I knew she would be screaming long before I was finished with her.

Once upon a time, there was a king who passed. He left behind two sons, one beloved and one outcast. The older of the two was set to take the throne, but before he could, he had to find a queen to call his own. The younger one was known to be unruly and unhinged. The chosen queen was warned to keep far away from him. Beautiful and cunning, in the light is where she stayed. But late at night, it was the shadowed lands in which she played. Mistakes were made and secrets forged; forgetting duty and her sense. And while the new king had her hand, her heart belonged to the scarred prince.

It was an innocent mistake; she knocked on the wrong door. It was mine. If I were a better man, I would've just let her go. But I'm not. I'm a cruel bastard. I ruthlessly claimed her virtue for my own. It should've been enough but it wasn't. I needed more...I craved it. She became my obsession. Her sweetness and purity taunted my dark soul. The need to possess her nearly drove me mad. A Russian arms dealer had no business pursuing a naive librarian student. She didn't belong in my world. I would bring her only pain. But it was too late...she was mine and I was keeping her.

I'm not supposed to leave the house. But what my husband doesn't know won't kill him. I break his rules every morning on my runs. It's always been best when I have a routine. So every day I wake up, run, clean the house, wish for a better life, repeat. Every day is exactly the same. Except Thursdays. I live and breathe for Thursdays. It's when he comes. I watch from a distance. I can't help myself. But I was never supposed to talk to him. I know what you're thinking. But you don't know my story. You don't know the kind of monster my husband is. And trust me, you have no idea who I am.