Bistas_She

"You know what a good girl would have done? A good girl would have stayed home instead of sneaking out of her father's compound just to get a man to fuck her. A good girl wouldn't have stabbed a man like me with a pen. And most of all, a good girl wouldn't be turned on by holding a gun to a man's chest." I lean closer to her. "You're no good girl, Ivanna."
"You… you're wrong."
"Go on then. Come on. Pull the trigger."

***

My name is Ivanna. I am the daughter of Misha Sidorov, the head of the Krasnoyarsk Bratva. I have just graduated and I’m about to go to college. My life is perfect until Sergio Sakharov comes into the picture. 
He is the darkness itself. He reigns over the entire Sakharov family and by extension, the Dvina River Vory Bratva. His word is law, and his desire is absolute. 
Everything changes in a split second when he steals me away and holds prisoner in Tyva, a bride for his only heir.
But Sergio doesn’t take no for an answer. He always gets whatever he wants and against all reason, he claims me for himself instead. He thinks I’m the perfect match for his desires and he is determined to keep me close, even if I fight him at every turn. 
Except, I’m no helpless pawn. I’m not innocent. I have tasted his dark side, and I want more. The don himself, the man they call the Volkov of Dvina River appeals to me in the most sinful of ways. His wickedness draws me in, and when he decides that he wants me, I’m helpless. I can’t resist him, even if it means giving myself to him.
He may think he has power over me and can control me every step of the way, but I’m about to show him who the real boss is.

Scars He Gave Me

I stare at the card, not terribly surprised. It was a smart play by the police approaching Ivanna . They had left my mistresses alone in the past, probably because none of them had lived with me and I never discussed business in front of them. Ivanna was different. In every regard. "I see."

She drops the card in my lap when I don't take it. "I told her to fuck off."

Maksim's eyes meet mine in the rear view mirror. I know what he is thinking. He doesn't trust her, and he is wondering if this is a tactic, telling me about the police to gain my confidence.

The familiar itch skitters across the nape of my neck, the one that whispers never to let anyone in. Never to give anyone power over me, over the business, especially a woman. These were words my father had repeated many, many times.

She is Mine