I made a mistake. At sixteen years old I fell for the wrong man. Callum Torrio. Ruthless billionaire. Dangerous villain. My best friend's father. At twenty one, I gave up hope that he would ever notice me. He’s twenty years older than me and an arms dealer for the mob. The smart choice would be to forget he ever existed. But that’s not possible. His icy blue gaze, sculpted physique, and huge rough hands play a vivid part in my dreams.

Maximo Giovanni Santaro is a king. A real king, like in the old days. The kind I didn’t know still existed. The kind who commands obedience and punishes any hint of defiance from his subjects. His Majesty doesn’t take no for an answer, and refusing his royal command has earned me not just a spanking that will leave me sobbing, but a lesson so utterly shameful, that it will serve as an example for anyone else who might dare to disobey him.

Kieran Murphy is an Irish mob boss and one of the most powerful men in Boston. When he walks me home, people step aside out of respect for him. He could have any woman he wants. So why does he have eyes only for me? Is it how he has to lift my chin with his fingers to keep my eyes level with his when he scolds me and how I cover my bottom instinctively when he tells me that I've earned a spanking? Or is it how I quiver at the thought of everything I'm too ashamed to beg him to do to me? Maybe it's all of those, but I'm pretty sure there's something else too.

Working as Ruslan Oryolov’s personal assistant is the job from hell. After a long day spent tending to the billionaire’s every whim, I need some stress relief. So when I get home that night, that’s exactly what I do. Problem is, my thoughts are still stuck on the bosshole, who’s ruining my life. That’s fine—because of all Ruslan’s many sins, being gorgeous might be the most dangerous.

Like currency, I’ve become part of a transaction. Blade took me to pay off a debt. I try to tell myself, Eve, you should hate him. He’s a bad guy. But then again, I’m not a good girl. Blade’s the president of the Disciples, the notorious motorcycle club. I should be frightened, yet somehow, he doesn’t scare me. If anything, I think I scare him.