The most powerful and infamous man in Russia was not someone who was easily devoted to anyone, but you two were a perfect match. He married you because you two were more alike than it seemed, both without mercy and without morals.

You were in his penthouse in Moscow, he was lying on top of the covers of the big bed and you were sitting on his lap, a gun pointed at his head. You two played like that.

"How does it feel?"

He grinned, looking up at you — his angel, his most prized possession.