She thought she could steal from me. Now she belongs to me. I saw her the moment she walked into my club. She tried to blend in, slipping through the room with a stolen uniform and a tray of champagne. But I don't miss a damn thing in my empire-especially not a little thief with ice-blue eyes and a body made for sin. When I catch her in my office, fingers on the secrets that keep my empire from burning, I give her a choice- confess who sent her, or learn exactly what it means to cross a Volkov. She runs. I hunt. And when I take her, it's not just my secrets I'm keeping. Now she's in my bed, my world, bound by my rules. She should be terrified. She should hate me for breaking her down, for making her crave the punishment as much as the pleasure. Because I'll burn kingdoms to the ground before I let her go.