With green eyes and an easy smile, Frank McCabe stole me away from the nightmares that awaited me at home. But the son of the Irish Mob would never be mine. I belonged to the Italians. And the moment my mother sold me to the head of the Italian Mafia, I became the one the people of Boston were warned about. The only person more feared than me in our city is the Irish Ghost. When I finally flee my marital prison with my sons and my sister in tow, I unwittingly run straight into the ghost of the Irishman who died in a fiery explosion years ago.

I’m nothing but a payment, bartered to the most powerful cartel in the northern hemisphere and forced to marry a man I do not know. My father sold me to save his own skin. He might as well have ushered me to the gates of hell. The Marino family is sadistic. If rumors are true, they’ll own me, use me, control me, and strip me of every freedom I’ve taken for granted. I’ll be a shiny new toy in a dark and deadly underworld.

We were always told as children that monsters are the things that go bump in the night, but they were wrong. Monsters are often the ones that warm your bed, poison dripping from their teeth and claws, embedding in your skin. I hunt them. I end them. Without hesitation. But…then I hesitated. I stumbled straight into the monster’s den, the biggest and baddest of them all. The king of New York. Roman Antonov. I fell in love with him, and his demons. And I hate him for it.

Nico De Kysa. Cold. Detached. Ruthless. And my new husband. I didn't want to marry the despicable mafia don. But my father made a deal with the devil, and lucky me, I'm the currency. If I leave… He'll destroy my father's fortune. But if I stay… He'll obliterate my heart. In this union, the lines between love and hate are blurred. So blurred. He's a cold-blooded monster with ice in his veins and frost in his heart. But in bed, Nico De Kysa burns like wildfire. And in the heat of the night, I begin to forget why I hate the mobster.

I never wanted a wife. No one is safe with me. No one is good enough for my daughter. But if I want to rule over the wealthiest crime family in New York City, I only have two weeks to find one. When Elsie broke into my home, I saw an opportunity, so I forced her into a marriage she didn't want. No one crosses me, not even someone as beautiful as Elsie. She may fight me with that smart mouth, but she will obey me–or return to the hell she came from.

My life was perfect. I had an amazing fiancé, a business I love, parties and balls every week, everything was wonderful…until that night. The night where everything changed. My world is crashing down around me. Everything I knew is a lie and the men, the men in the masks, tell me that as they steal me away into the night. I wake chained, scared, and alone with four criminals. Criminals who tell me I'm theirs now, theirs to steal, theirs to kill. But there is something they don’t know about me, my past shrouded in darkness.

Ten years ago, The Harlequin Boys broke my heart. I thought my life was complete with them at my side, the five of us against the world, having each other’s backs no matter what the cost. I’d fight for them until my dying breath. It’s just a shame they didn’t feel the same. Once upon a time, my imperfect world shone bright with the light of four boys I would have killed for. This is the story of how they destroyed me. 

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

Eden Murphy came into my club looking to make some extra cash. A girl like her didn't belong in a place like this. She'd get ripped to shreds. Most likely by me. There's nothing but sweetness dripping from her sexy little body, and I'm the monster who's salivating to get a taste.

He won’t tell me his last name, and maybe that should throw up a thousand red flags, but when I’m all alone in a new city and struggling to make ends meet, his texts are the lifeline I’ve been desperate for. I never would have answered that text if I’d known that Lincoln Daniels—superstar hockey player extraordinaire—was the one sending it. He’s trying to sweep me off my feet now. He says he’s obsessed. He wants me to wear his number…permanently. But is he still the wrong number, or can this hockey god prove he’s Mr. Right?