I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own.

To know Ilya Volkov is to fear him. To defy him, lethal. They call him The Wolf—ruthless heir to the most brutal crime family in the world. A tattooed, green-eyed devil. A seductive psychopath who trades in mind games and leaves a path of destruction in his wake. Except, I didn't get that memo. I spit in the dark prince's face. Now, he wants to break me.

Gabriel Ferrara is tall and handsome, and most days she wants to stab her eyes out with a pencil, anything to stop her seeing his perfection. How any female could work in these conditions and not be completely besotted with him is beyond her. Then he opens his mouth and she remembers why. He's bossy and sarcastic, with a wit so sharp it could cut glass. Every weekend is the same . . . while he's off living his dream life, she's counting down the days until Monday when she sees him again.

I'll show everyone I'm a threat, and they will fear me. For my family. I have to protect them. The second I hear the name Damien Vetrov I know I'm in trouble. He's an arrogant Russian God. I have zero intention of bowing to him. Ever. Attractive and lethal—he's such an intoxicating mixture. Every second we spend together, the pull between us becomes stronger, and my fear grows. While my body wants him, my head knows better. He has the power to kill my family.

It all started with a contract signed by him, then by me, while our families watched. While my father sat silent, a man defeated, giving his daughter to the Benedetti monsters. I obeyed. I played my part. I signed my name and gave away my life. I became their living, breathing trophy, a constant symbol of their power over us. That was five years ago. Then came the time for him to claim me. For Salvatore Benedetti to own me. I had vowed vengeance. I had learned hate. And yet, nothing could have prepared me for the man who now ruled my life.

Liam McLaren: London's most ruthless financial hotshot and the big boss at Ashbury Thornton Equity Group. Just whisper his name and even the city’s toughest traders break out in a cold sweat. And lucky me, Gemma Jones, as the head of HR at his company, I’ve got a front-row seat to the McLaren Show. Brooding intensity, perfectionist demands, and a glare that could stop your heart mid-beat. Every. Damn. Day.

Five Aston has known Rory Shrike for as long as he can remember. He played with her in the sandbox. He went to every damn horse show just to be supportive. He helped her with her French, walked her home from school, and faked his test scores just to stay with her a little longer and not be sent off to college early. But eventually he had to move on. And so did she. Never has a second chance meant so much to a boy who loves a girl.

They say that all men are created equal. Well, that’s a blatant lie! I know, because I met God's gift to women in Vegas; I pretended he was my husband to get rid of another man. He took our fake marriage seriously, and it became his personal goal to consummate. He spoke to me in French, and I lied to him in German. His laughter was addictive. But I thought what happens in Vegas would stay in Vegas. Until it didn't.

Jameson Knight arrives at precisely the same time every day to pick up his young daughter from school, smiling as she runs into his open arms. It’s the only time I see him smile. I don’t ask questions because it’s not my place. I’m just his daughter’s favorite teacher, nothing more. … Until the first bullet flies by us at recess. Suddenly, I’m risking my life to protect her. And then Jameson drags me back to his estate, claiming it’s a matter of life-or-death.

I should have run the other way. Paid my tab and gone back to my room. But he was there. And he was…everything. I figured, what’s the harm in letting passion rule my decisions for one night? So what if he looks like the Devil in a suit? I’d be leaving in the morning, flying home to my pleasant but predictable life. I’d never see him again. Except I do. In the last place I expected. And now everything I’ve worked so hard for is in jeopardy.

They say there are three things you should do at least once in your life: Dance like nobody’s watching. Travel the world. And fall hopelessly in love. I aimed to do all three. I went to Italy to find myself. But he found me.

My mother taught me one valuable lesson that I’ve used to get to where I am today. And where am I? Las Vegas. Who am I? Well, that depends on who you are. To some, I’m the king. The judge, juror, and executioner. To others, I’m just another rich asshole who owns a few casinos. But I own more than that. I own the strip and the streets surrounding it. I own this city, and it’ll have to be wrenched from my cold, dead hands before I hand it over to anyone else.

I met him, the man of my dreams. On the worst day of my life. Catching my boyfriend out was bad. Coming out of the club in a daze, I stumbled upon a situation which was worse. Much worse. And it would have been deadly, too. If he wasn’t there to save me. My unsuspecting hero. He was rugged, wild, and powerful. The way he looked at me set me on fire.

I’ve spent the better part of the last few years successfully avoiding my brother’s best friend, Weston Aldrich. As CEO of Andes Inc, the infuriatingly handsome and incessantly grumpy Weston also happens to be my new boss. It shouldn’t have been hard to continue avoiding him. After all, he’s on the executive floor, and I’m one of many copywriters. Weston has his own ideas about how things should go between us. He’s in my emails, leaving notes on my desk, and as if that’s not enough, he arranges for me to accompany him on a business trip.

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.