MY BABY DADDY IS A MAFIA

You don’t marry the devil and expect to walk away… Two years ago, I made the most reckless decision of my life. I married a stranger — a dangerously sharp Russian with eyes like winter storms and a voice that curled around your spine. It was supposed to be fake. A quick, quiet wedding on a borrowed yacht. A loophole to stop my billionaire father from selling me off to some corporate puppet in a boardroom marriage. But the stranger-the man I begged for help—wasn’t just some wealthy businessman in an expensive suit. He was Mikhail Volkov. A Bratva king. Cold. Ruthless. Calculating. I left him divorce papers and two million dollars on his bed the next morning… and vanished. But the past doesn’t stay buried. And men like him don’t forget unfinished business. Two years later, under a new name and a quiet life halfway across the world, I thought I was safe. Until my new company gets bought out. By him. Mikhail Volkov. He came for me. And this time, running isn’t an option. “Why the hell are you calling me your wife?” I snap, shoving the contract across his desk. “I paid you off. I left divorce papers. Signed.” He steps closer, all tailored dominance and lethal calm, his voice low enough to scrape against my bones. "You don’t end things with me unless I say so, moya zhena. And I don’t marry… to divorce." I’m not free. I’m his unfinished business. And now? I belong to him… whether I want to or not.