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PROLOGUE
Present Day
KIRA
One month ago,I made a bargain with the devil and today the bill is due.
That devil is none other than Maxim Belov. Billionaire. Business magnate. Crime lord.
And the man who killed Aunt Masha—the only mother I’ve ever known.
“Do you, Kira Antonov, take Maxim Belov to be your lawfully wedded husband…" the priest begins, his voice echoing in the vast cathedral. His words become a distant murmur as I fix my gaze on the man I'm about to wed.
Maxim's cold eyes meet mine, filled with a calculating appraisal. A faint smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. He's undeniably gorgeous, his jet-black hair peppered with salt and pepper at the temples, highlighting piercing blue-gray eyes, a chiseled jawline, and defined cheekbones that lend him an air of ruthless nobility.
The cathedral falls into a hushed silence, the weight of countless expectant eyes bearing down on me. Sweat beadsalong my back, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady, knowing there's no turning back once this commitment is made.
But the only thing more terrifying than calling him my husband is not avenging Masha’s murder. And without his ring on my finger, that will be impossible. So I allow my need for vengeance to outweigh my fear. I've walked through fire to get here; now, I need to take the final leap.
The priest looks from Maxim to me, his brow creased with concern, and repeats, "Do you, Kira, take Maxim as your husband?"
Maxim drags his thumb across his bottom lip, tilting his head in a silent query. I can almost hear his mocking tone in my mind."What's it going to be, lastochka? Will you run away, or will you see this marriage through?"
I draw upon every shred of anger and grief, letting it steel my resolve.This is for Aunt Masha and the justice she deserves.
When I finally find my voice, it’s strong and clear. “Yes.” So help me God.
And just like that, I've bound myself to a monster for as long as it takes to exact my revenge.
CHAPTER ONE
One Month Earlier
KIRA
I fanmyself with one hand while grabbing a chilled glass of champagne with the other.Haute couturein summer is never a good idea. But then again, nothing about tonight is.
The luxurious ballroom is filled with Russia'scrème de la crème, celebrating Maxim Belov discovering his long-lost daughter, Alyona Nikitin. But like everything associated with Maxim, the happy union is just an illusion.
Glancing around the lavishly decorated room, I spot Alyona—my best friend and ride-or-die—in one corner, caught up in a discussion with Maxim and the interior minister. A familiar sense of anger prickles my spine. Despite the story that Maxim spun for his esteemed guests, this is no happy reunion.
One week ago, he abducted Aly and me from a safehouse in Croatia and whisked us away to his grand Black Sea estate. At the time, we had no idea who had captured us or why, until Maxim sat Aly down and basically said, “Nice to meet you. By the way, I’m your biological father—here’s the proof. From here onout, you’re going to rule my empire by my side. And if you don’t, I’ll kill everyone you love.”
The last thing Aly wants is joining forces with Maxim, a man entrenched in organized crime as he is in legitimate business. What she yearns for—what she'salwaysyearned for—is a regular life, far from the bratva upbringing she's known. Well … that, and my brother Leo, but that’s a whole other story.
So yeah, not the warmest of reunions with dear old dad. But here we are a week later, at Maxim’s version of a “debutante ball”, where he’s parading Aly around like his newest acquisition, which is exactly what she is to him. Property to be owned and controlled.
But no one in their right mind would challenge Maxim. His influence extends far beyond business and politics, deep into the underworld. He's not bratva; he's the king to whom the bratvapakhans report. If he's the king, then Alyona is his reluctant princess.
And I’m the joker that got caught up in this mess. Truth of the matter is, Maxim has no business with me. I suspect I’ll be free to go after tonight, but there's a fat chance that’s going to happen. When the opportunity presents itself, I’m getting my friend out of here—one way or another. Aly is strong in her own right, but I’m a born fighter. Along with my half-brothers—Andrei, Daniil, and Leo—I run Brooklyn’s Kozlov Bratva, the most powerful crime syndicate on the US East Coast.
I take another sip of champagne and watch the couples on the dance floor before scanning the room again. But this time, Aly is nowhere to be seen. I'm about to go look for her, when I'm met with a pair of familiar green eyes.
“Liza?” I exclaim.
Elizaveta Ivanova, an old friend and roommate from boarding school, stands in front of me. Her teenage braids have been replaced by cascading chestnut waves, and her strikingeyes are winged-tipped and sophisticated, but they still light up with the same genuine warmth as always.
My lips curve into a surprised smile.
