The Baranova Bratva
The Princess
Valentina Baranova
All I have is my name, my body, and my bloodline.
Three things that I should own. But that’s not how life works when you’re a mafia princess — you’re rarely in charge of your own life. Someone else claims it for themselves, turns you into a marionette, and pulls your strings however they please.
It’s the life I thought I was destined for.
The ex-fiance
Andrei Leonov
“Your life, your death, your soul. All of it is mine.” He squeezes my throat tightly, panic ripping through me as he cuts off my air. My heart beats frantically in my chest, begging for life.
“You will marry me, Valentina Baranova, because I won’t settle for less.”
The Bodyguard
Ezra Reinoff
She wraps her arms around my chest and holds me tight, finally letting me fold my battered, broken wings around her, shielding her from all the daggers held at her back.
I used to be her guardian angel. She told me that once.
A strangled laugh cracks in my throat.
Angels don’t do the kinds of things I do. But you keep on believing, Valentina, and maybe someday, I’ll become the man you think I am.
The billionaire
Mikhail Monrovia
“I’m allowed to stare,” I say simply. She couldn’t stop me from staring if she tried.
“It’s indecent.” Her lips purse ever so slightly, like she’s tasted something sour. “You look like a madman.”
My tongue slides out across my upper lip, and her eyes catch the movement. She blushes harder.
Will she tell me I taste like a madman too?