I met my ex’s father in nothing but lace.
One minute I’m walking a massive Great Dane through Brooklyn. The next? My jeans rip during a freak tug-of-war.
Now I’m standing on the sidewalk in nothing but lace. Strangers are laughing. Phones are out. My dignity has left the building. Kill. Me. NOW.
Then HE appears.
Tall. Silver-haired. A suit worth more than my rent.
His massive body shields me from the cruel stares. Russian voice drops deadly. “Eyes. Off. Her.”
My ovaries NEVER stood a chance. That night rough hands worship every curve my ex mocked.
Then the bomb drops: My mystery savior is Viktor Antonov. Bratva kingpin. Billionaire monster. My cheating ex-fiancé’s FATHER.
In a glittering Bratva ballroom, his bitter ex-wife sneers at my curves before the entire syndicate. Viktor’s hand brands my back. Possessive. Final. “Careful. That’s my heir’s mother.”
The ballroom goes silent. Because everyone here knows one thing about Viktor Antonov. What belongs to him… He NEVER lets go.
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