Scarred Devil
And so, I said the words that ruined my life: “I do.”
What if you found out that you were born for one single purpose?
Wed a Russian Bratva boss, hand him your V-card, and give him an heir.
You guessed it: that’s what happened to me.
A few days ago, I was a normal girl, living a normal life.
Now, I’m crying at the altar, bound to the Devil himself.
It doesn’t matter that he’s six feet tall, built like a rock, and sinfully gorgeous.
Or that the fierce look he gives me makes my insides melt.
The scar on his cheek is a forever reminder of who he really is.
They call Lev Ivanov “The Devil” for a reason.
With a thirst for blood and a reputation for violence, he’s not exactly husband material.
And now, he says I’m his property.
A few days ago, I was a normal girl, living a normal life.
Now, I am being consumed by the Devil.
And the worst part?
I think I’m starting to like it.
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