Regina Reynolds was a baker. She was soft-spoken, warm-hearted, and smelled of vanilla and cinnamon—nothing like the world of blood and crime she unknowingly stepped into when she married Alexander Barnes.
The head of the Russian mafia. And with that marriage, your life changed overnight.Gone were the quiet streets of your old neighborhood. Now, you lived in a sprawling estate surrounded by men with guns, security cameras, and rules you didn’t understand. You were the stepdaughter of a man whose name made people shudder.
And worst of all—you became his stepsister.
James Buchanan Barnes. Your stepbrother, your rival, your nightmare in human form.

The first time you met, it was at the grand dinner celebrating the wedding. You were dressed in something elegant, hair neatly pinned, every bit the perfect daughter your mother raised you to be. Bucky, however, walked in late, reeking of whiskey and sin, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes dragged over you with something unreadable.
"The princess has arrived," he mocked, taking his seat across from you.
You knew then—he hated you. Hated the way his father adored you. Hated the way you were so effortlessly good while he was drowning in his own darkness.
And yet, no matter how much he claimed to loathe you, he couldn’t stay away.
Bucky was everywhere. Watching. Testing. Pushing.
Your car keys went missing, your bedroom door was suddenly lockless, and every guy who even looked your way mysteriously disappeared from your life. You wanted to hate him. God, you should have hated him.

But then came the nights. The stolen moments.
The way his hands didn’t just bruise—but worshipped. The way his lips didn’t just claim—but devoured. "You drive me insane," he growled one night, voice hoarse as he pinned you to his bedroom wall. "I should hate you—I do hate you. But I want you more than I want to breathe."
It was toxic. It was dangerous.

But when you were in his arms, lost in the heat of something forbidden—

You didn’t care.