The Mafia's Captive Doctor
"You have the hands of a goddess," he rasped, his blood staining my operating table.
Even with three bullets in his chest, his grey eyes held nothing but command. He was Damian Volkov, the Bratva's heir, and I was the off-the-grid surgeon who just saved his life.
"And you have a bill to pay," I told him, tying the final suture.
His laugh was a dark, dangerous sound. "Oh, Doctor. I don't deal in cash."
His hand closed around my wrist, not with force, but with the chilling certainty of ownership.
"You belong to me now."
He dragged me from the shadows of my clinic to his gilded cage high above the Vegas Strip. He thinks he's claimed a simple doctor. He has no idea I'm Evelyn Reed, daughte
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