Sophie Lark

Dante leaves for Paris tomorrow morning. He’s taking his wife, his son, and his brand-new baby girl across the Atlantic for what he’s calling an extended honeymoon. But I’ve got a feeling that he’s not coming back

The funny thing is, I don’t hate Callum. He’s been good to my sister. They’re wildly in love, and they have a little boy together—the heir to both our families, Miles Griffin. The Griffins have upheld their end of the marriage pact. They’ve been loyal partners

The blonde girl has pulled herself out of the trunk. Seeing her assailant out cold on the pavement, she runs

up and kicks him in the gut.
“Chtob u tebya hui vo Ibu vyros!” she shouts, pulling back her high-heeled foot and kicking him again.
To be honest, I kinda forgot about the girl for a minute while I was beating the shit out of this guy. Now I turn around and really look at her for the first time.
She’s tall, and that’s saying something from my perspective. She’s got to be over six feet in those heels. With her face aflame with fury, she looks like a vengeful Valkyrie. She’s white-blonde, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail on top of her head. Her features are sharp and exotic—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, full lips, fierce white teeth. And her body . . .
I feel bad thinking about that, when some dude just tried to abduct her. But it’s pretty impossible to miss the Amazonian figure stuffed into that skin-tight dress. Full breasts, tiny waist, mile-long legs . . . it’s hard to snap my eyes back up to her face.

Alexei Yenin,” she says, not expecting me to recognize the name.
I do, though. He’s the head of the Bratva in Chicago. Or, I should say, he’s the new boss—after the Griffins killed the old one.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Yelena Yenina,” she says with a proud upward tilt of her chin.
“Sebastian Gallo,” I tell her. I don’t see any flicker of recognition in her eyes. She doesn’t seem familiar with my family.
Instead, she looks me up and down again with a mistrustful expression on her face.
“Why are you so huge?” she demands, as if it’s suspicious to be this tall.
“Genetics,” I say blandly.
“No.” She shakes her head. “You know how to fight. What do you do?”
“As a job?”

He throws an arm around my shoulder and kisses me hard on the cheek.
“There she is,” he says in Russian. “My little Elsa.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap in English.
“I thought you said your name was Yelena?” Sebastian asks.
“He means Elsa from Frozen,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“You gonna turn me to ice?” Sebastian says lightly.
“She might,” Grisha says. “She doesn’t like men. Just like Elsa.”
“I like you,” I say sweetly to Grisha. “But then, you’re not much of a man.”
Grisha laughs and takes another swig of his drink. He’s drinking directly out of a bottle of Stolichnaya Elit.

“Chess makes men wiser and clear-sighted,” he says. “Do you know who said that?”
I shake my head. “Some grand master?” I guess.
“No,” Papa chuckles. “Vladimir Putin

The black-haired girl is up next.
“Good luck,” I say to her.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she laughs. “My boyfriend will pay whatever it takes. He’s sitting right in the front row

The next girl up is an absolutely stunning brunette with hair down to her bottom. Cross announces that she owns the Tremont Fitness Center, which I could have guessed from the triceps popping on the back of her arms, and her ass that looks sculpted out of marble. This obviously appeals to the men in the crowd, because she goes for the highest bid yet: $17,000

Suddenly, impulsively, Sebastian snatches up his paddle. He calls out, “Twenty thousand!”
Even the woman and the man sitting at his own table look startled. The dark-haired girl mouths something that looks like, “What the fuck?” and then she peers up at me, grinning