Auctioned to the Russian Bratva

I bought her at auction. She became the pregnant obsession I’d kill for.

I am the Enforcer of the Kashkin Bratva—the most feared man in San Francisco. Violence is my currency. Mercy is a word I’ve never learned.

Then I saw her on that stage.

Dark hair like spilled wine. Plus-size curves that made my hands ache. Eyes full of terror and defiance that cut straight through me.

She was being sold by her own father to clear his debts—auctioned off to the highest bidder. I told myself I was paying five million dollars for leverage. To destroy the Benedetti empire.

But that was a lie.

I’d been obsessed with her since the night we met two years ago—a charity gala, a few hours of conversation, and a woman who talked about the human heart like it was holy. I walked away because wanting a Benedetti was suicide.

But watching another man bid on her? Hearing him describe what he’d do to break her?

My control shattered.

Now she’s my wife. My prisoner. My little sun who hides her gorgeous body in oversized clothes. Monster—that’s what she calls me. She fights me at every turn, and looks at me like I’m both her captor and her salvation.

When I discover she’s carrying my child, I finally accept what I’ve been denying:

I don’t just want to own her.

I need to worship her. Burn down everyone who threatens her and our baby.

She believes I bought her as a possession.

What she hasn’t realized yet:

She’s my redemption.