My Forbidden Brother
Standing by the glass railing, looking out over the sprawling, glittering expanse of the city he commanded, was Adrian.
He was dressed in a simple, high-thread-count black cashmere sweater and tailored trousers, his dark hair brushed back, his powerful, scarred silhouette looking like a permanent monument against the skyline. In his hand, he held a crystal tumbler of single-malt whiskey, the ice clinking softly as he turned around to face me.
The moment his dark eyes locked onto my frame, the cold, calculating aura of the Volkov empire vanished completely, replaced by that fierce, unyielding devotion that had kept me safe through every storm.
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