I knew Noah Abramovich was trouble the first time our eyes locked. I was sixteen that summer. Sitting by the pool eating an ice-cream I can still remember how it melted over my fingers and dripped onto my thighs as I stared back at him. It wasn't just his Greek god looks, the animalistic Alpha attitude, or his tall, powerful muscled body - it was the aura around him that screamed, Don't fuck with me.
At sixteen I wanted him with the passion of a woman, but mine was a world of unwritten rules. Rules that are worth more than a man's life. I didn't need anyone to tell me that he was everything I could not have.
He never looked at me again, but I watched him from afar. I could tell there were deep secrets that kept his smile hidden. Dark and mysterious he seemed to fear no one, not even my father. A man he should have. One I feared greatly. As the years passed, the afternoon when time stilled became as unreal as a dream.
I am twenty-two now and in six months I will be married to a man my father chose. I will do my duty and bring respectability to my father's dynasty, but before I give myself to that man, I must have a taste of the forbidden. Just one night with the man of my darkest fantasies, so I don't lie on my deathbed, and regret that I never reached out and took the one thing I wanted most in life.
But will it heal or destroy me?
In the Mafia world, your past is never far behind. If you are careless, it seeps into your future and gets you killed. Just when I had fooled myself into believing I'd stepped away from it all, it suddenly appeared in my office.
Tasha Evanoff: She is what original sin must have looked like. Blonde, beautiful, voluptuous, and with secretive sapphire eyes that see right into my tainted soul.
She comes offering one bite of the red apple.
If I had any sense I'd shut the door on her, and send her back to her father, a psychopath of the highest degree. But that's not who I am. If the pretty princess has the courage to walk into the lion's den, I'm sure as fuck not going to pass on a challenge. I'll take one bite of her apple. Why the fuck wouldn't I? I've been lusting after it for years. Right here, right now, she is in my world, and she'll damn well play by my rules.
She thinks everything will go back to what it was before, but I know what she doesn't. You can never have just one night of raw passion. The body will always crave more.
Will she submit to her body's desires or to her father's?
Noah Abramovich is a former mobster. Tasha Evanoff is a mafia princess. While they basically exist in the same crime riddled world, they come from very different sides of it. And because Tasha’s father wants her to advance to royalty in that world, he has her betrothed to a creep much like himself, rather than Noah who Tasha secretly desires.
“The Princess wants to be a slut for one night. And the person she has chosen is me. I lean back in my chair and let my eyes roll all over her. Well, well, well. All that untouchable beauty just laid out for me to soil and dishonor.”
This is a tale of forbidden love in the mafia world after one night isn’t enough, and the pair must decide if their attraction to each other is worth taking the deadly risks. The opening scene was intriguing and perked my interest in the characters as we’re introduced to the pristine, sheltered girl propositioning the bad boy for a risky exchange. Unfortunately, I never quite felt they developed far enough from those stereotypes. Tasha really was naïve it seemed when it came to the dangerous, chauvinistic world around her, although she does get a rude awakening that empowers her to finally revolt. And Noah, well while we’re told Noah is a bad ass, it still felt like more tell than show. Noah certainly had potential, but I just craved a little more. Then again, I have not read the previous books that Noah appeared in so perhaps that makes a difference.
Told via Tasha and Noah’s alternating first person point of view, the pair engages in some dirty stolen moments.
“I commit to memory the dirty image of Tasha, no longer a Princess, but horny, slutty, her leg cocked over my dick, and out-of-control sexy.”
Most romance readers will enjoy the steam factor in this one. I have to admit though, I was totally spoiled by Georgia LeCarre’s novel, Masquerade—one of the best, dirty talking alpha hero I’ve possibly encountered so the, ah, pillow talk in this one didn’t come off nearly as smooth or fitting.
All in all, it’s an okay story. No major issues but nothing original either. It’s fairly similar to some other mafia romance-adventure reads. This is pretty light on the suspense and minimally dark. I will warn though, if you are a reader that has issues with animal abuse, you might want to sit this one out as it could be a trigger for some readers. Otherwise, the story is safe and thankfully the OM drama is minimal which keeps the romance plot on track.
She reaches out a hand and unbuttons my shirt, exposing my chest. Her pale finger, the nail painted pearly pink, traces the tattoo of a roaring tiger on my chest.
‘Oskal (bared teeth) You were a thief,’ she breathes.
I don’t say anything. My tattoos tell their own tale of bloodshed, violence, and the unspoken moral code of my past. My time of treading a fine line between life and death. The punishment for getting a tattoo you have not earned is severe so they work as my CV, and being the daughter of a mafia king she can read each letter and design like a language.
She undoes the rest of the buttons on my shirt, pulls the shirttails out, and slips it off me. I watch her eyes hungrily take in the width of me, before her eyes alight on the tattoo of an epaulette inked onto my right shoulder.
‘High ranking,’ she whispers.
She rises to her tiptoes and kisses me right on the skull in the middle of the epaulette. It is a gesture of approval. She knows it signifies that I am not, or will ever be a slave to anyone.
I stand as still as a statue when she touches the rose. So many memories come crowding back. No other woman has touched it quite the same way. It is Delilah holding Samson’s hair.
‘You spent your eighteenth birthday in prison,’ she notes. Her voice grave.
Then her finger delicately trails the blade of a dagger. ‘You have taken life.’ She touches the drops of blood as she counts aloud the lives I have taken. ‘One, two, three, four …’ There are more drops, but she doesn’t go on. She looks up at me, our gazes touch, and she exhales a long breath. It sounds like regret or pain.
She walks around the back and looks at the massive tattoo of the Madonna and Child surrounded by saints and angels. In the background a cathedral. It is a thieves’ talisman. I know I am a sinner but protect me, guide me, bring me luck.
‘So … you were a thief from an early age,’ she deciphers. I feel her breath warm on my back.
‘Fifteen,’ I say quietly.
‘Mmmm.’ She lays her palm on my back and I close my eyes at the incredible softness of her skin.
She reads aloud the Russian words. Oh Lord, forgive me for the tears of my mother.
I twist around and grab her wrist. ‘That’s enough.’
Something flashes in her eyes, but it’s not fear.
‘So now you know all about me,’ I say. ‘What is there to know about Tasha Evanoff?’
‘There is only one thing you need to know about me. Tonight I am yours.’
~About the Author~
I love to write about strong, possessive, dominant hero's and sassy, smart heroines. My characters range from hot, dominant billionaires, to strong, powerful gangsters, and all kinds of bad boy's in between.
I am the bestselling author of the Amazon #1 bestsellers, You Don't Own Me 1 & 2 (The Russian Don series), the Billionaire Banker series and the Crystal Jake complete Eden series. You'll find my books packed with thrills, suspense and of course lots, and lots of steam.
I live in a little old 19th century romantic cottage, surrounded by the most magical garden, filled with fruit and walnut trees and teeming with wildlife.
Sadly for me I love all things chocolate and food and have a voracious appetite for Romance reads, particularly new authors with a fresh voice.
When I am not feeding words into Amy, my precious laptop, I can be found lost in a long walk in the woods, particularly on moonlit nights; and often with the man of my dreams.
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