I texted the wrong number.
He texted back.
Now the Bratva owns me.
It was supposed to be a rant to the date who stood me up.
Instead, I got Sergei Volkov.
Cold. Ruthless. Powerful.
The kind of man you don’t say no to.
He took me to dinner.
Then took me apart in bed.
No names. No strings.
Just the best night of my life.
