Pretty things aren’t meant to be broken. But I broke her, and now we both have to pay the price.

I’m her nightmare.
I’m her savior.
And now that I have her signature on an ironclad contract, I own her body and soul.
She doesn’t remember me.
She will.
It’s inevitable.
Because as much as I know I need to stay away, for fear of unlocking the memories I helped her father bury—I can’t.
She was the apple in the Garden, dangled in front of me, her core so tempting and sweet. A voice whispered. Just. One. Bite.
I bit.
I tasted.
I fell.

Welcome to the world of the Russian mafia, where death is your only future.