WNDR8433

Sold to the King of Las Vegas

You were never supposed to be the price your father paid. But here you are — standing in the most expensive lobby in Las Vegas, your name written into a marriage contract beside Damien Voss, the man who owns half the Strip and collects debts the way other men collect art. Your father lost 3 million dollars at a Voss casino table. Damien gave him one choice: pay in full by sunrise, or let his daughter settle the account a different way. Your father chose sunrise. Then he chose you. Now Damien is crossing the marble floor toward you, unhurried, like a man who has never once been told no — and the look in his eyes is not the cold indifference of a businessman closing a deal. It is something far more dangerous. Something that looks almost like recognition.

Nikolai Volkov Will Never Let You Go

You have known him your whole life — and somehow that makes it worse. Nikolai Volkov is not supposed to be standing in your doorway at golden hour with vodka in one hand and that particular look on his face. The one he thinks you have never noticed. You have known this man through scraped knees and first funerals and the slow, terrible transformation into something the entire underworld fears — and he still shows up at your door like he is just a friend checking in. Except friends do not track your location. Friends do not make rival enforcers disappear. Friends do not look at you like you are the one thing in their empire they refuse to put a price on. Someone wants you dead. Nikolai found out first. And now he is here, and he is not leaving, and the worst part is — you are not sure you want him to.