I never asked for a ring forged in blood money.

Or a husband who looks at me like I'm both his salvation and his next kill.
They dragged me into this villa of whispers and firelight, a virgin pawn in their endless vendettas, my body the price for peace. Detached. Untouched. Armored against the world that broke my family long ago. But him? This hardened shadow with sarcasm sharp as a blade and eyes that strip me bare. He circles me like prey he won't devour. Not yet.

His restraint is a lie we both hate. Every brush of his hand against mine in these echoing halls ignites something feral in my veins, a hunger I deny even as it claws free. Sweat slicks our skin in the dim glow of unsigned contracts, my gasps echoing on silk sheets by flickering candles. I tremble under villa eaves, exposed, his mouth claiming what's never been mine to give. Defloration isn't surrender. It's war. My cool walls crack under his ruthless possession, duty twisting into obsession. I fought it. Damn me, his touch owns me now.

But shadows creep closer, enemies hungry for our throats, my fragile innocence the weakest link. One wrong breath, and this arranged hell unravels us both. Lose him, and I'm shattered glass in the snow. What devours us first: the passion blooming in denial's ruins, or the knives at our door?

A full-length virgin arranged-marriage defloration erotic romance featuring a detached virgin bride and a ruthless operative. Includes themes of forbidden possession and consuming surrender.