LOGINHe wanted a beautiful bride. He got a scarred little liar. Tariq Volkov is the Don of the Bratva. Ruthless. Obsessive. Vicious enough that even the devil would think twice. He doesn’t forgive betrayal. He buries it. For years he has waited to destroy the man who destroyed his family. Then Viktor Sorokin offers him a daughter. Anya Sorokina is twenty-three, scarred, unwanted, and locked away like a dirty secret. Her twin has the face, the love, and the man Anya once believed was hers. Until Yelena vanishes with Anya’s fiancé and leaves her sister to pay the price. Now the daughter no one ever claimed is forced into her twin’s place and into Tariq’s bed. He discovers the truth on their wedding night. Now he doesn’t just want her as a wife. He wants a prisoner. A living reminder of everything Viktor will lose. In his mansion, wedding rings become shackles. Kindness becomes a weapon. And the man who shares her bed is colder and crueler than any monster she grew up fearing. Tariq calls her his little fox. He looks at her trembling hands and lowered eyes and decides she is already broken. He intends to strip her innocence, crush her defiance, and make her regret every drop of Sorokin blood in her veins. But the little fox has spent twenty-three years surviving a family that never wanted her. And the most dangerous thing a monster can do is underestimate the girl he has trapped. He married her to make her father suffer. He kept her to make her submit. Now he is about to learn what happens when the bride he planned to break becomes the one obsession he cannot bury..
View MoreAnya.If anyone told me that the man I’d imagined as my husband would stab me in the heart so treacherously by eloping with my own twin sister, I would never have believed it.My life was a joke. A big one. And somehow, getting married to Tariq Volkov in less than forty-eight hours after meeting him didn’t seem any better.My fingers dug into the sides of my simple white dress as I stared blankly around the room into which I’d been led.I’d been told to wait in the room for my husband, and I’d spent the whole morning and afternoon wondering when exactly he would get there and what I should expect.This room was big and had a bed and a fancy couch, but I could bet a toe that it wasn’t my husband’s room.It looked simple, far too simple, and my brows furrowed as I tried to picture how Tariq’s bedroom might be.Would it have a bed the size of a ship? Or a fireplace tall enough to stand in?Compared to my imagination, this room looked like a place built for a prisoner, not a bride.I rub
Tariq.The black car glided through the gates of the Sorokin estate, past the guards, and out onto the roads of Moscow.I leaned my head against the glass as one name rang clearly in my head.Yelena.There was something strange about that name, but the girl who bore it intrigued me even more.I could see her eyes, green and sharp in my memory as she spoke to me.She dared to tell me what I could do and not do. Yelena asked whether I even knew her. And as if that wasn’t stupid enough, she had lifted her chin and looked at me as though I were a problem she needed to avoid.A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.No one dared to look at me that way. Absolutely no one.Men would beg to come even an inch closer to me and beg for their lives when they offended me. Women would flock around me, desiring to have their names tied to me, or their bodies. Not one woman in fifteen years had stepped back from my touch as though it might burn her.“Boss,” Ruslan, my right-hand man, called quietly.
Anya.My hands trembled as I glanced from Don Tariq to my father and back. Yet my question hung unanswered in the air.Don Tariq was still staring at me, his gaze unflinching, while my father… I hadn’t even seen him move.My throat tightened when his fingers closed tightly around my hand.Pain shot up my arm as his signet ring bit into my knuckles and my fingers ground together until I gasped.I drew back, trying to pull my hand back, but Papa held on even tighter.“Yelena,” he called, pinning me with a tight, hard smile. “my daughter is overwhelmed, Don Tariq. Naturally. Say something to our guest, darling.”Yelena?My name was Anya!I stared at him. In twenty-three years, he had never called me by her name. He leaned toward me, smiling, and spoke through his teeth so softly that only I could hear.“Not one word about being Anya. For now, you are Yelena. Now smile, or I will break this hand.”My lips parted shakily, and I managed a smile. “I… I’m sorry. I’m just surprised.”“Of cours
Anya.“Where do you think you’re going to?”Fingers clamped around my ear and twisted. I gasped, and the mug I was hiding behind my back nearly slipped from my grasp.“Mama, please, I only wanted to—”“Quiet.” My mother dragged me backward from Yelena, my twin sister’s door, and tears formed in my eyes from how terribly my ear ached with her pinching.She pulled me along like an animal down the hallway, her strong perfume choked me hard. “Do you know what day this is? Your father has spent months preparing for today. A man who can make or break this family is going to walk through our front door any moment from now, and here you are! Creeping through the halls like a rat looking for crumbs!”“I was only going to show Yelena—” I tried to speak, to explain, but Mama hissed, cutting me off instantly.“Yelena is resting. She has locked herself in to prepare, and she is not to be disturbed by you!”“This is a gift! I made a gift.” My ear burned as I struggled to push the words out. “For D


















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