MasukWarning: This book contains mature themes, BDSM content and is not suitable for younger readers. Five years ago, Summer Rodriguez was framed for a murder she did not commit. Her mother betrayed her. Her twin sister walked away from her. The world chose to believe the worst. Summer lost her freedom, her future, and the life she had worked for. Now she is out of prison, and she wants everything stolen from her. That includes the man her sister is about to marry. Kirill Volkov is a Russian trillionaire CEO who is brilliant, cold, and haunted. He lives with obsessive compulsions and a mind that sometimes forgets recent events and sometimes forgets faces. Yet for reasons he cannot explain, he never forgets Summer. Love is dangerous for him. Whenever he starts to feel anything close to it, his body responds with frightening physical collapse. But the moment Summer appears at his wedding disguised as her sister, something inside him wakes up. He does not expose her. He takes her hand and tells the world, She is my wife. What starts as revenge turns into a consuming game of desire, control, and secrets. Summer came to take her life back. She never planned to become the one thing Kirill refuses to let go of. -- There's also the story of Cassia, Kirill's married sister, who's having a secret affair with his best friend, and Wren, who accidentally sent her sex tape to the school's bad boy.
Lihat lebih banyakEPILOGUE: FIVE YEARS LATER…….SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEWThe sun was setting over the Amalfi Coast, painting the sky in strokes of blood orange and gold, the exact palette I used to describe in my novels, and paint my murals back when I thought they were just pretty colors. Now, they were the colors of my life.I sat on the terrace of our villa, the scent of lemon trees and salt air filling my lungs, the sound of the sea waves crashing repeatedly left a calming sensation all over my body.Behind me, the sound of small, frantic footsteps echoed against the cobblestone, followed by a tiny voice that was both a blend of mine and his father’s."Papa! Papa, look! I found a lizard!"I turned to see a miniature version of the man I loved. Little Alek, now four years old, was holding out a tiny green creature with a grin that was pure Kirill. He had his father's striking golden eyes, eyes that were no longer filled with the trauma of the Siberian snow, but with the curiosity of a child who had ne
SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW.The fireplace fire crackles softly in the silence of the penthouse. Kirill rests his head on my shoulder, his breathing warm against my skin.“What do you think life would have been like…….if we never met?If your mother weren’t the way she is, and my parents were a regular Russian couple, probably living here in England… no, Papa always races about America and their burgers.He’d have moved to America, definitely.” He chuckles, the sound low. “What do you think it would have been like?No trauma……no pain. Just…..”“An utterly boring life?” It was my turn to chuckle.“You think it would have been boring?”“Yeah…. don't get me wrong. It would have been great not to live the lives we lived in the last.Who knows?Maybe you’d be a simple engineer living in your parents' basement, or moving freshly into your apartment after a successful nine-to-five job, working and saving in the world's current economy for about a couple of months or years until you could afford t
ANTOV’S POINT OF VIEW.I gripped the steering wheel of my car tightly; my heart's fierce pounding reminded me of cultural drums being beaten on in readiness for a sacrifice. Everything in me screamed, roared, and yelled at the same time. I wanted to crash my car with me in it; I wanted to join Misha, one way or another.She’s gone… the girl who’d sat right beside me barely a couple of hours ago no longer exists in this world.Misha….no, Wren, my Wren is gone for good, all because my selfish brute of a brother chose to pick a side other than my own.My car climbed the top bridge, spewing even more, so the trees were a blur. I didn’t know where I was headed; all that came to mind was my anger at Kirill and the fact that I would never see Wren again.Why did she have to be a spy? Why did Kirill have to even be an assassin? Were there no other damn options?Yeah, he’s said our parents are horrible people, but even that could be a darn lie. Kirill has given me a life I know many would k
THE ASSASIN’S CREED.SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEWThe kitchen, with its gleaming marble and soft golden accents, suddenly felt like a stage set in a matter of seconds. Filled with nothing but everything flimsy and fake, it felt ready to collapse. I stared at Kirill, my mind struggling to bridge the gap between the man who had just tenderly held a straw to my lips and the man I’d just learned who had traveled the world ending lives for millions of dollars.Assassin.The word echoed in my head just like his tone when he said it; cold and sharp yet still with emotion. It explained the gun from before, it explained the blood, and it explained why Mikhail was so eerily calm while I was falling apart. But the last three rules he mentioned, the ones he had broken, those were the ones that made the air vanish from the room. I felt something magnetic pulling us to each other; it was the same familiar pull I’d grown addicted to."You fell in love," I whispered, my voice trembling as I looked into tho
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