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PROLOGUE

ELENA

“Are you listening to me, Katerina?” my father snaps.

“Yes,” my sister replies, fluffing her hair. “We have guests coming, and I need to play the part.”

Recently, we’ve had quite a few ‘guests’ coming around, but I’m not stupid. He’s looking to marry my sister off.

I’m two years older than my sister, so technically, I should have married first. However, I’m not as pretty, as skinny, or as shallow as my sister. I really don’t want to marry a man I don’t know, although I know I don’t really have a choice in it.

But I know it’s going to be Katerina because I overheard my father tell his brother as much. I don’t know if it makes her the lucky or unlucky one.

While my father mostly ignores me, I’m sure he’d be happy to get rid of me, but I do have one thing in my favor.

I’m smart.

I’m good with numbers and technology.

I’m even better with money.

That means I’m useful to him.

Not that that saves me from his temper when he’s angry. No, nothing can save me then. I’ve grown up with all the finest things money can buy, but none of the love and patience every child should get. Instead, we’re both pawns my father can move around and use for his benefit.

Katerina wears a tight pink dress that shows off her slim figure, while I wear a loose, black, long-sleeved dress. She’s all dolled up, while the only thing on my face is my reading glasses. She’s dressed to impress, and I’m dressed to fade into the background.

“If he’s hot, he’s mine,” Katerina announces.

I don’t think she knows that it’s not any of the Bratva men about to walk through those doors. No, the men coming over today are a whole different ball game—bikers.

My father wants to secure an alliance with the Serpents of Chaos Motorcycle Club, something about guns.

When you are almost invisible, you hear things you shouldn’t. When you don’t repeat them, you hear even more.

My sister will be giving up everything and everyone she knows to go live with them.

“You can have him,” I mutter, turning my Kindle on and reading the rest of my fated mates romance. When I knew bikers were coming here, I read a few MC romances and found similarities between bikers and the men I grew up around.

They cheat on their women, and they have plenty of opportunities to. Bikers have club girls and are even less discreet than Bratva men and their mistresses.

Yes, the books I read have happy endings, but only because they are fiction.

When the three men enter the room, I put my Kindle down momentarily and stand to greet them.

The room seems much smaller with them in it. They are all tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a menacing demeanor.

These are powerful men.

But one of them catches my eye.

He’s wearing a crisp white shirt under his leather cut, sleeves folded to show inked, corded arms, black slacks, and scuffed leather boots. Perfectly tousled thick, dark hair and slate-gray eyes framed in dark lashes. His lips are downright sinful, full and perfect for kissing. Not that I’d know, because I haven’t kissed anyone yet, but I’ve thought about it.

My father introduces us, well, mostly Katerina, to the men.

Rome.

War.