He's thirty-seven. Merciless. The consigliere of the Volkov Bratva. >I was twenty-two. Four weeks pregnant. Dancing barefoot in his kitchen. >So I left. New city. New name on the bakery door. A son he'd never know. Then my mother's heart gave out. I came home to Chicago. >Grey at the temples. Hands that have ended men and never shook. A voice like stone wrapped in silk. "You have my son." "You lost the right to call him that five years ago." "I am not asking, Tasha." One reckless, against-the-wall, hands-in-my-hair night five years ago... >Until assassins followed me off the highway with my son in the back seat... Until Maxim put two rounds through a windshield at sixty miles an hour... >His wing. His bed. His rules. The consigliere of the Volkov Bratva doesn't ask permission. He decides. Now the man who's been writing my name on cards wants me silenced... The boy in his enemy's chair needs a family... >Has decided I'm never walking out again. Because Maxim Sokolov doesn't just take back what was always his. He buries anyone who reaches for it. Reader's Note: A full-length standalone second chance Bratva romance. Tropes: secret baby, age gap, woman on the run, scorching forced proximity inside a Bratva compound, morally grey alpha consigliere, found family, fake breakup reveal. Scorching heat. Heart-pounding danger. No cheating. No cliffhangers. Guaranteed HEA.
AmazonPagina's: 356, Paperback, Independently published
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