Ivanov Family (Paperback Bundle)

Ruthless Stranger

★★★★★ Maggie Cole is an absolute savage. Her new mafia series is phenomenal and extra spicy! -Sophie Lark, Bestselling Author of Mafia Series Brutal Birthright and Kingmakers 

Recently divorced, hurting, but liberated Aspen gets pulled to Vegas with her girlfriends, where she gets dangerously and intimately involved with a ruthless stranger who knows no limits. Get lost in their world and be left sweating, panting, and craving more.

He’s a Ruthless Stranger. One I can’t see, only feel, thanks to my friends who make a deal with him on my behalf.

No names. No personal details. No face to etch into my mind.

Just him, me, and an expensive silk tie.

What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas.

He warns me he’s full of danger.

I never see that side of him. All I experience is his Russian accent, delicious scent, and touch that lights me on fire.

One incredible night turns into two. Then we go our separate ways.

But fate doesn't keep us apart. When I run into my stranger back in Chicago, I know it’s him, even if I’ve never seen his icy blue eyes before.

Our craving is hotter than Vegas. But he never lied.

He’s a ruthless man…

Broken Fighter

He’s my brother’s best friend, a Russian killer, and boxer with no ties to the O’Malley crime family—my family.

I’ve loved and studied him forever. 

I witnessed him change when I was only thirteen. 

He doesn’t know I’m aware he kills, or how I notice once a year he gets a call and disappears.

For years we fight our attraction. 

One night, we succumb to our desire.

Every touch he gives me is electric. 

Each moment deepens our addiction.

If it were only us, life would be perfect.

Unfortunately, our union creates targets on our backs from multiple crime families. 

It puts our loved ones at greater risk. 

Wars from each of our enemies now plague the O’Malleys and Ivanovs.

Every time the annual call comes to pay off his debt, he crumbles further. 

I’m not sure how much more either of us can take. 

He’s my broken fighter…

Cruel Enforcer

A tormented soul on the verge of breaking…

The night we met, I joked about being his cougar. 

He said it depended on how much I could handle. 

Nothing prepared me for how Sergey Ivanov turned my world upside down.

Borderline scandalous describes the things he introduces me to. 

Every limit I reach, he knows to back off or keep pushing. 

Each sinful touch is a catalyst for greedy desire I never knew existed within me.

Once I step into his world, it’s impossible to get out. 

There’s no retreating from him. It’s a magnetic pull swirling with pain and kindness unable to be defined.

The world views him as strong and intimidating. 

I see love and demons he never should have been exposed to but can’t escape. 

Even when he thinks it’s safe, it never really is.

He’s my cruel enforcer…

Vicious Protector

Demons so deep they destroy us…

Every part of Adrian Ivanov is pure, unable to ignore, male virility. 

He’s arrogant. 

Protective. 

Sweet and intensely attentive. 

On rare occasions, outright vicious.

If only his soul wasn't tortured over who he is and what he has become. 

He hides it all from me, proclaiming the truth will ruin us.

No matter how much I insist anything he confesses won’t deter my heart, his ghosts won’t allow him.

But they aren’t apparitions.

The present collides with the past in a dangerous and twisted game he doesn’t even know he’s a pawn in. 

It causes everything in our future to remain in jeopardy.

There’s a choice, yet nothing hard in life comes without consequences.

He’s my vicious protector…

Savage Tracker

Wanting anything resembling what I had should suffocate me.

Meeting my neighbor, Obrecht Ivanov, confuses me. 

The moment he walks through my door, I desperately want him to command me to kneel. 

I swore I would never return to anything like life with my ex-husband. 

So why do I feel as if I can’t breathe?

Each passing day that I don’t cave into my desires, the tension in my soul exponentially tightens.

I convince myself to go take care of it and stop the itch once and for all. 

Just one time and then I’ll be fine.

It’s bad enough my ex-husband is doing everything in his power to find me.

The choice I make puts me in a dangerous and vulnerable position.

It’s a good thing Obrecht is always watching me.

He’s my savage tracker…

Aspen Albright

"Don't turn around," a deep voice murmurs in my ear, sending chills down my spine. His accent sounds like a mix of old-world Eastern European meets modern-day U.S., but I can't place exactly where it's from. I have to pay close attention to understand what he's saying, but it only makes my intrigue about him intensify.

The scent of scotch flares in my nostrils, mixing with bergamot and cardamom. A large hand wraps around me and slides along my stomach, creating a blaze of hot, nervous flutters zinging to my core. 

I begin to turn my head, but his cheek holds mine in place. His stubble lightly scratches my skin, and I draw in a deep breath. "You don't seem to obey very well." Something about how he speaks tells me I better learn quickly.

Obey him? What does he mean?

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I'm not sure why I'm apologizing, and I shiver against his hard frame as the blinking lights of the city flash outside the window. The music from the surround sound is seductive. A woman sings, but it's in another language. The concoction of my overly due-to-get-laid loins, encouragement from my girlfriends to be "spontaneously reckless," and a slight buzz from the alcohol we've been drinking all day doesn't help me resist Mr. Stranger Danger's advances. 

If his body didn't feel like I was melting into it, maybe it would help.

But why should I resist? I'm a freshly divorced, hasn't-gotten-laid-in-too-long-to-count woman on vacation.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, so I have nothing to worry about.

His pinky finger slips farther down my body, and he glides his other hand up my thigh, as if he owns me, tugging me closer to him. "Let me be clear about my rules. The blindfold will go on and stay there until after I leave. From this point forward, you give your full trust to me. Whatever I say goes." Everything about him is confident, with no room to argue.

My heart races faster, and anxiety fills my chest.

What am I doing?

This is so unlike me.

What if he's a crazy psychopath, and I end up sliced to pieces and left in the hotel room?

His hard erection presses against my spine. "Do you have any questions or objections?" The heat from his breath hits my ear and doesn't help me form any coherent thoughts.

I swallow hard. "Ummm..."

He flicks his tongue behind my lobe, and my lower body throbs.

I softly gasp and close my eyes, not able to construct any question, never mind speak it.

"You can still get out of this if you want," he murmurs and drops his hand lower, grazing my slit through my dress while nibbling on the curve of my neck.

I freeze. Do I want to get out of this?

His lips hit my ear again. "I require consent. Your friends said you want this. Is this true? Hmm?"

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His thumb strums against me, as if I'm a guitar and he's a professional rock star who sells out arenas every night.

He could be. I know nothing about this man.

"Give me a yes," he demands in his sexy accent.

Somewhere inside me, the scaredy-cat, rule-following, usually prim and proper woman hides. The Vegas, carefree me takes a deep breath. "Yes."

"Good. Close your eyes and keep them shut. If you open them before I blindfold you, this ends. Understand?"

I nod, still not sure what I'm getting myself into.

"If you don't submit to me fully, there will be no warning. I will stop and leave. Have I made myself clear?" He drags his hand up my torso, slicing through my cleavage, then grasps my chin and pushes my head back on his shoulder, scraping his stubble against my cheek again.

A whimper escapes me. It's so tiny, I'm not positive it wasn't in my head.

"Answer me."

"Mmhmm." I can't get anything else out. His body is a torture chamber I want to volunteer for. It's warm. Every move he makes, his muscles contract, pulsing into my flesh. 

His hand on my thigh inches to the inside. It's lightning straight to every nerve ending I have. He quietly grunts when I shudder then asks, "You've not done this before?"

I pull as much oxygen into my lungs as possible and hold it in. "What? Obey?"

He strokes my lips with a lonesome finger. "That and spend the night with a stranger."

My insides shake harder. "Correct." I hook my hands on his muscular thighs, trying to steady myself.

"You're nervous." He doesn't ask but states.

"I..."

He places his finger over my lips, and I hold my breath.

"Blindfold first." A cool satin goes over my eyes, and he secures it tightly around my head.

My eyes were already shut, but something about the finality of the blindfold makes my pulse spike more.

He repositions his body in front of mine. His frame towers over me, and I sharply inhale as his finger slides through my cleavage. "Do you know what I've wanted to do since I saw you from across the casino?"

"No," I whisper.

He doesn't answer me. His hand possessively holds the back of my head. The warmth of his breath hits my mouth as his lips buzz against mine. "Spend every second of the rest of the night making you unravel in ways you never have before."

My insides quiver as he unleashes the first bout of chaos through every atom of my being. His lips and tongue ignite a fire in me I didn't know existed, traveling across my jaw and neck, before he releases the strap of my dress and sucks on my breasts.

When he moves back up, I search for his lips, wanting to taste them. He never lets me. The entire night, I spend doing things I've never done before, but he never kisses me on the lips.

The next morning, I wake up. Sunshine bursts through the window. I turn to the other side of the bed, expecting to see him. 

But he's gone. A cut silk tie, which must have been my blindfold, lies on the pillow next to me. Every other trace he was ever with me is gone, except for the delicious scent of his skin still clinging on mine.

It was supposed to be this way. I knew and agreed to the terms. He kept his word and stuck to his end of the deal. But I still notice the ache of disappointment he's gone. Part of me is giddy from everything we did and all the ways he made me feel. The other half wonders if it was better to have never known anything so excruciatingly pleasurable existed.

There isn't a bone in my body that isn't aware I'll never experience anyone like him ever again. 

I let myself get lost in my trip down memory lane for a brief moment. Then I get up, shower, and go to put on my clothes from the night before. I figure I'll do the walk of shame out of the high-end suite and onto the sixth floor to the room I'm sharing with my girlfriends. Panic fills me when I can't find my panties, bra, or dress.

I open the closet, and a new, white, very expensive sundress is hanging there. It has a built-in bra, but there are no undergarments anywhere. A note is attached. It reads:

My Krasotka,

Your dress and bra will be delivered to your room after they are cleaned. I'm keeping your panties.

A scribbled letter resembling an M is at the bottom of the paper.

I gape at the note and dress for a minute then bite on my smile.

Pervert.

M. His name starts with an M. Or is it for his last name?

That's all I know of Mr. Stranger Danger. He could stand in front of me, and I wouldn't know it's him. I have zero clue what he looks like, his real name, or anything else about him. The only thing I'm positive about is his voice, bergamot and cardamom scent, and the way his body formed perfectly against mine. Most of the things he said, I didn't even understand since he often spoke in another language. I'm not sure how he knows what room number is mine, but for the first time in my life, I'm not going to overanalyze it.

Krasotka. He kept saying it all night, as if it were his pet name for me. What does it mean?

I grab my phone and type it into the search bar. It's Russian.

Krasotka: Gorgeous, Beauty.

Besides all the mind-blowing O's he gave me, it hits me that I genuinely feel happy and alive again. I haven't felt anything but unwanted, sad, and ugly in a long time.

For some crazy reason, I'm glad he kept my panties.

Find out what. happens next in Ruthless Stranger!

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