Irina Volkov has three most important rules: no emotions, no real names, and never meet in person. For two years she has survived on those rules alone — running romance scams on wealthy men, funneling every stolen dollar toward the crushing debt her abusive stepfather signed in her name before she escaped. She is not greedy. She is desperate. And she is very, very good. Until she targets Nikolai Dragunov. What Irina doesn't know is that Nikolai has known about her from the beginning. He created the perfect bait — a lonely businessman with money to burn — and waited for her to find him. Because in a world Nikolai controls down to the last detail, Irina Volkov is the only unpredictable thing left. He wanted to see how far she would go. Now the game is over. The con is exposed. And Nikolai isn't asking for his money back. He's keeping her. Trapped in his penthouse with nowhere to run and a Bratva boss who looks at her like she's both a puzzle and a prize, Irina has to survive the most dangerous mark she's ever made — and somehow stop herself from falling for him in the process. She's a liar. He's a monster. And neither of them expected to fall. "You took my money, Malyshka. Now you belong to me."

I, Aelira Vaelith Draveth, came to Eirenmoor's palace to kill a king. Our Feral King. I had a plan. I had a blade. I had years of grief sharpened into something precise and lethal. All I needed was to get close enough. So I became his bride. What I didn't expect — what nothing in my years of training prepared me for — was him catching my wrist in the dark, blade laced with silver-ashveil already on its way to his heart, and saying: "I've been waiting for you to finally show yourself. You've stalked me long enough to know how to come closer." Anger and revenge run through my veins. He was meant to die. For killing my sister. The only family I had left. He is the Feral Beast who rules Eirenmoor. The one every Eirakh in the kingdom fears. The one they bow to without meaning to. The one even the darkness seems to make way for. But nothing — not his aura, not his beast, not the cold gold of his eyes in the dark — is going to stop me from killing the High King of Eirenmoor. Emrys Kraelvyn Vorkan will fall by my hand. Nothing will stop me. Nothing....Right?