Nikolas Bellucci Aleksandr Mikhailov is dangerous. I didn't just see it-I felt it. Every nerve in my body screamed to run the moment his sharp green eyes locked onto mine. His stare wasn't casual; it was predatory, deliberate. Like he wanted to consume every part of me and leave nothing behind. What had I done to deserve his attention? I'm a nobody. I prefer shadows over spotlights. I don't want to be anyone's Donna, their treasure, or their little prince or princess. But Aleksandr? He doesn't care what I want. Even when his hands skim over my skin, making it impossible to fight back, impossible to breathe. Even when my traitorous heart races whenever he calls me his printsessa. I'm a man. The last mafia prince of the Bellucci family. Arranged marriages, political games-it's all supposed to be beneath me. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. But Aleksandr Mikhailov doesn't ask. He takes. And some part of me, despite everything, might just want to be taken. Aleksandr Mikhailov Nikolas Bellucci is a work of art-beautiful, dangerous, and far too proud for his own good. I knew I wanted him the moment I saw him. My uncle Ivan always said, What a Mikhailov wants, he takes. Rules? Irrelevant. Boundaries? Meant to be shattered. Nikolas fights me, yes-but he'll break eventually. They always do. And when he does, I'll be there to catch him, to hold him, to ruin him until he's mine entirely. My printsessa.

AN MXM ROMANCE NOVEL HIS LISCIHKA "I've been married to a woman for 18 years, I-I wouldn't know the first thing about being with a man," I admitted while feeling Ivan's hands making their way under my chin. "I'll teach you, just don't leave me, Oliver," Ivan consoled his voice sounding so gentle yet longing that it drew me in. "This isn't right, Ivan," I muttered positioning my hands on his bare chest. "Why?" Ivan rasped resting his right hand on my waist. "Because... I'm a man, I'm older than you and I have a daughter-" "Why are you making excuses, Doctor?" he growled. "I've never done something like this before Ivan," "As I've said lemme teach you," and with that Ivan gently pressed his lips against mine. His soft lips against mine drew me into an emotion, a feeling I've tried so hard to ignore. His right hand glided down to my ass gripping it hard causing me to groan at such a sensation. "I want to taste your dick, Doctor," he whispered, his baritone singing in my ear. "Ivan," I mumbled breathlessly. "You will let me? Right?" he questioned sinking onto his knees. Oh, God. I gulped as I stared down at the dominating man who kneeled before me. His gorgeous green eyes stared at me while his hands made their way to my zipper. "Ivan," I warned again. "Dah, Lisichka?"

❃ The Rich Man and His Fire Dancer ❃ "Dance for me like the bad girl you are, Nyra." Angelo circled me, stopping in front of me and looking up and down the belly dancing outfit I had on. No man has ever been this up close to me. They were forbidden. I wanted to push him away but I enjoyed the sinful sensation of his presence near mine. It made my core drip with desire. "I dance with fire, Mr Santis, you wouldn't want to get burned." Angelo chuckled darkly, the back of his fingers stroking up the curve of my side before wrapping his hand around my back, pulling me close to his face. His minty breath fanned my face and goosebumps pricked at my skin. "Aww, bambola, you have no idea how much I am burning to have you withering under me," He whispered against my neck, lightly brushing his cushioned lips against my pulse. ❃ Angelo De Santis, the most handsome young and rich bachelor with women that surround and fall to their knees to plead like angels,begging to spend a night with him. Flirt, charmer, hypnotist. These are his traits yet one woman doesn't fall for them and he wants her. Nyra Marianacci, a beautiful woman hidden in the darkest club of Manhattan. Not a stripper. Not a ballerina yet she has obtained both qualities. Innocent yet sinful. She picks at her victims, injecting her venomous poison of temptation and feeds off of the men's desire to have her, but there's a catch. They can't. They can only see her from afar. Touching her is forbidden. When these two collide at a celebration of Angelo De Santis's victory at the club, will he indulge in her temptation or will she bend the rules to dance to his tunes?