Bonus Content
Did you like this book? Then you’ll LOVE Beautiful Beast, the first book in a six book mafia series.
I was forced to choose between saving my sister’s life or marrying the devil himself.
I chose the devil.
Married to Erik Koslov, leader of the Russian mafia, my entire life changes.
Erik is cold and dangerous.
There is no love in his heart.
I marry him to spare my sister the same fate.
I will do anything for my family.
But can I manage to stay married to a man who is pure evil?
At the same time, Erik awakens my body.
His touch lights me on fire.
I’m conflicted between how my body feels for him and how my brain hates him.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do.
But what I do know is that I have to make this marriage work.
Or it could lead to the downfall of my entire family.
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Sneak Peek - Chapter One
Anya
I look into the face of the devil, and he smiles back at me.
My high heels clack on the cold stone floor. The gauzy fabric of my wedding dress swishes around my legs. My hands clench a bouquet. The comforting scent of the flowers does nothing for me right now, not when I’m signing my life away to a bad man.
My legs tremble, but fortunately, my dress hides that fact. I don’t want him to see me afraid. To show fear is to show weakness. At least, that’s what my father taught me.
He’s holding my arm at this very moment, practically forcing me to walk down the aisle.
Sergei Belov, the great Bratva man, is my father.
From the downturned lines around his lips to the creases between his eyebrows, you can tell he’s a stern man who never smiles.
He only ever frowns. No one is good enough for him.
Not me. Not my sister, Nadia. Even my mother wasn’t good enough for him.
She’s dead now, so I guess she’s spared his wrath.
I haven’t been spared anything. Not my sanity, not my body, and not my freedom.
Because I’m being forced into an arranged marriage I did not sign up for.
The air in the large, grand old gothic church is freezing. Goosebumps appear on my arms. I think whoever controls the temperature did this on purpose. I think that the man I’m about to marry wants me to be cold.
He wants me to be uncomfortable.
The church is eerily quiet, despite the guests. I barely know any of these people. Either they are friends of my father or friends of my soon-to-be husband.
The only pair of eyes I recognize are my sister’s. Nadia looks at me with so much pity and fear that it makes me stumble. I’m not sure I can do this. Once I marry him, I won’t live with my sister. I’m not even sure how much I’ll be able to see her again.
Some of the guests murmur as they watch me righten myself. Now is not the time to fall flat on my face. I can’t let him see that version of me: the scared little girl.
My father tightens his hold on my arm. “Get your act together,” he says quietly so only I can hear. It only reminds me of how alone I am at this moment. No comforting words from my father. No warmth. No love.
Only cold calculation.
I nod subtly. It’s enough for him, and we resume walking.
My soon to be husband’s smile deepens into something dangerous. He caught a moment of weakness from me. What does that mean? Will he hurt me for it?
I don’t know much about my future husband, but what I do know isn’t good. I’ve heard horror stories about him. He’s like the boogeyman of the Bratva world, which says a lot because most men within the Bratva do bad things. I know my father has done bad things.
So, the fact that he is seen as the boogeyman, the man I’m going to marry, is a frightening thought.
The music swells as I get closer to the end of the aisle. A live orchestra is present, playing the usual wedding march song. Nothing but the best for this wedding.
Even though I didn’t ask for this wedding.
I don’t want this wedding.
It’s not that I’m afraid of marriage. I’ve been taught from a young age to expect marriage, and I knew this day was coming. But I’d hoped I would marry a kind, gentle man. Honestly, I had hoped I would marry an idiot I could control so I could be in charge.
But the man I’m about to marry is not an idiot. He’s not someone I can control.
I don’t think I’ll get the chance to be in charge, which makes my blood boil.
I’m powerless to stop this as my feet get closer and closer to him. Every clack of my heels is like a ringing death omen in my ears. Clack, clack, clack. Death, death, death.
I might sound dramatic but I’ve heard stories about my future husband. He could very well kill me if he wanted to.
This marriage is for political gain. Alliances. A tried and true method to grow power. Most of the women in this church had arranged marriages so their husbands could become more powerful.
My father is one of the most powerful men in New York. It’s no wonder he wanted a part of it.
It’s also no wonder my father wanted a part of my future husband’s power. Any way to become untouchable in this city is a win for a Bratva man.
And I’m just a pawn, like every other woman is.
I don’t have any agency as I walk down the aisle. If I did, I would scream and run away. In fact, I already tried that, and it got me nowhere.
I’ve fought against this being my fate, but I can fight it no longer. It’s happening. I’m marrying a monster today.
I reach the pew that Nadia is in. On instinct, I reach my hand out for her, and she reaches out for me. Our fingertips brush each other’s …
… right before my father yanks me away from her. It’s a subtle movement. Only the people closest to us can see it happen. Which means my soon-to-be husband saw it.
When I work up the courage to meet him in the eye, I see he’s staring at me with a darkness that makes me shiver. He must like seeing the pain in my eyes. He must love it.
“Don’t,” my father growls at me. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
For him. It’s always been about him.
One more step. Then one more step.
Then …
I have arrived at the end of the aisle.
My father’s hand clenches my arm hard. I’ll probably bruise, though it’s not the first time he’s bruised me.
Meeting my father’s eyes, he gives me a look that tells me not to mess this opportunity up for him.
I don’t want to acknowledge him. I don’t want to give him any assurances. He can go to hell for all I care.
But I have to think about Nadia, so I nod.
He lets me go. The skin on my arm turns ghost white before quickly reddening.
My hand is in the air for a moment, floating. Free.
And then he takes my hand in his, and I have no choice but to step onto the small dais and stand before him.
The music stops. The guests are quiet. I could hear a pin drop. Maybe one of the pins in my red hair will fall out and clatter to the floor and cause a commotion so I don’t have to marry this man.
This intimidatingly handsome yet terrifying man.
The priest next to us opens his hands. “Let us begin.”
Erik Koslov smiles down at me. It’s not a kind smile. It’s a smile that says, I own you now.
I hate for it to happen, but my hand trembles. He feels it, too.
And his smile deepens into something even darker than before. It’s a smile from hell. Because I’m about to marry the devil himself.
One week before the wedding
My favorite thing to do is piss off my father.
It’s surprisingly easy to do. Or not—since he tends to get upset with everything and everyone in life.
Case in point, today, I pissed him off because I accidently knocked over a cup, it hit the floor, and now, glass is everywhere.
“What the fuck did you do?” he hisses as he stares down at the glass. His face increasingly reddens the more upset he gets. A vein always appears in his head. It’s impressive how fast it comes on. A part of me hopes that vein will pop in his head, killing him.
Then Nadia and I would be on our own, and we’d be allowed to live our lives for ourselves.
But that’s a fool’s dream because even if my father dies, Nadia and I will never be allowed to live our own lives.
We’d be forced to move in with a distant male relative until we were married.
That’s the way of life within the Bratva.
Men rule the world, and women are subservient.
Women don’t have a voice. Women don’t have anything, as my father has reminded me on countless occasions.
I stare down at the glass. “I accidently knocked it over. It’s not a big deal. Just have Carmen clean it up.” Carmen is our housekeeper. Maid and cook, too. She pretty much keeps everything running since my mom died.
“You’re the one who did this. You clean it up.”
“Fine,” I mutter, walking over to the closet and grabbing the broom.
“You’re always so irresponsible. Can’t you ever get your act together?”
“It’s just one glass. We have many more.” I sweep it up into the dustpan.
“It’s not about the glass, Anya!”
His shout makes me stand up straight. My father has a tendency to shout, but this feels different. There’s a more frantic energy to him today.
“Then what’s it about?”
“It’s about how you’ve been a pain in my ass for so long. I’m sick of it. You’re always so defiant. You always talk back to me. A good Bratva girl knows her manners, and you have none.”
“That’s because I don’t show respect to people who don’t respect me.”
He snaps his fingers and points at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. That right there. That … attitude. I fucking hate it.”
“What’s going on?” Nadia asks in her soft voice as she enters the kitchen.
“What’s going on is that your sister made a mess again.”
Nadia glances at me with wide eyes. She has a doe-like quality to her. Large eyes, brown hair, petite nose. Whereas I’m a more striking beauty with my red hair and blue eyes. You’d never know we were sisters, given how different we look.
I have our mother’s red hair and my father’s nose, but Nadia only has our mother’s eyes. It’s something our father has commented on before.
The fact that Nadia doesn’t look like him one bit.