Owned By The Bratva King

Quinn
Being alone in life isn’t exactly fun, but I’m keeping it together. Even if I am technically homeless and sleeping above the bakery where I work.
Sure, my life is kinda shambolic. I’m shy, lonely, on the run, and I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid. But I’m fine. Really.
Then one night, he walks in, flips the sign to ‘closed’, and looks at me with those velvet eyes.
And just like that, he decides I belong to him.
Now he’s everywhere, all the time. Watching me.
I’m a nobody—a curvy, innocent wallflower, worlds apart from the gorgeous bratva monster in the blood-soaked shirt. Yet, somehow, he’s obsessed.
Roman Kazanov has me in his sights, and he won’t let me go. Does he scare me? Of course; I may be dazzled by his attention, but I’m no fool.
So why am I powerless to resist? Or is submission the greatest power of all?

Roman
There’s a damn good reason why I never let anyone get close.
My world is steeped in death and betrayal. My throne is built from bones, my hands drenched in the blood of many.
It’s all I knew. Hell, I thought it was all I wanted.
Until her.
One look at her voluptuous body and foxy hazel eyes, and I’m hooked. Imprisoned in a jail of my own making, her every word, glance, and gesture gouging scars deep into my black heart.
No one matters the way she does, and that’s why I should have left well alone.
A man like me always has more enemies than friends, and those enemies are not blind. My reputation precedes me; I worked hard to earn it. I’ll go to war to safeguard my property.
I need no one’s permission to claim her, least of all hers. And there’s no doubt about it.
Quinn belongs to me.