My name is Anastasia Lincoln.

I'm twenty-three years old and engaged to Rene Rusten, the man I've shared the last five years of my life with.

Five years should mean security. Certainty. A "forever" without doubts or problems.

And yet, lately, there are nights when I lie staring at the ceiling, wondering if I truly know the man I'm about to marry.

I live with my father, my stepmother, and my half-sister.

It's not a home.

It's a place where I learned to make myself small.

My mother died the same day I was born. No one says it outright, but her absence is always present. In the lingering stares.

In the awkward silences.

In that constant feeling of never quite fitting in. As if I were a mistake everyone decided to tolerate.

Today is my bachelorette party.

My friends from work organized everything. I started working at eighteen — not because I needed to, but because being away from home became an urgent necessity. The arguments with my half-sister never end. And my stepmother... she always found a way to remind me that I'm not her daughter.

So I learned to stay quiet.

To endure.

To never put my father in the middle.

"Ania, hi, sweetheart."

I recognized his voice from the doorway while I rummaged through the closet, not knowing what to wear.

"Hi, Dad," I replied, forcing a smile I didn't quite feel.

He stood watching me in silence. He'd been doing that a lot lately. As if he wanted to tell me something and didn't know how.

"I can't believe you'll be leaving this house soon."

I walked over and hugged him tight. Tighter than usual.

"I'll come by often," I promised. "I'm not going to disappear."

He sighed.

"I'm glad you found a good man."

"Rene is... really sweet," I said. "And he loves me very much."

At that moment, my stepmother appeared behind him.

"We're waiting for you," she said, in that cold tone that never changed.

My father tried to keep his composure.

"Ania, I came to tell you we're going to dinner and—"

"I made reservations for three," she interrupted, with a tight smile.

My father frowned.

"I don't care. I'll pay for one more."

She turned around, annoyed. I took a deep breath.

"Dad, don't worry. Go ahead. My coworkers will come get me."

"But the wedding is still a week away..."

"I know. But with all the preparations, they wanted to do it today."

He nodded, resigned.

"Take care," he said. "And call me if anything happens."

I watched them from the window as they pulled away in the car. Part of me felt relief. Another part, guilt.

I bathed slowly, letting the warm water cascade down my back. I put on a fitted pink dress that fell to my knees.

Heels in the same color.

Hair down, barely waved.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked happy.

Nervous. And, deep down, scared.

My phone buzzed. It was Rene.

"How's the most beautiful bride in the world?"

"Good," I replied. "Almost ready for the party."

Silence.

"You know I don't like that."

"Just a couple of hours."

"Ania... that's not proper for a decent young woman. Text me. The whole time."

I smiled. At that moment, I interpreted it as concern.

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

I took a taxi. The venue was a hotel. My friends had rented a private room.

Lights. Music. Laughter. It all enveloped me the moment I walked in.

"To Ania and her future with the most eligible bachelor!" one of them shouted.

We toasted.

My glass was refilled. And again.

"Tonight is for enjoying," they told me. "No thinking."

Then several men walked in, nearly naked. The room erupted in screams and laughter. My phone buzzed, but someone snatched it from my hand.

"Not today," they said. "Today you're free."

I drank more than I should have.

Time began to blur.

The heat hit me all at once. My skin burned.

The air felt heavy.

I stood up looking for the bathroom, but the hallway seemed to shift beneath me.

I entered an open room and went straight to the bathroom. I sat down. I breathed.

I splashed water on my face.

It didn't help.

The voices outside blended with the music. I kicked off my heels. The dizziness worsened.

I came out, but a wave of nausea forced me back. I threw up. I tried to clean myself up. I wanted to call for help... but my tongue wouldn't respond.

Then, a couch.

A strange weight pressing down on my body.

My mind screamed at me to move, to run.

My body didn't respond.

The darkness fell over me.

That was the last thing I remembered before everything went black.

My name is Damian Volkov.

I'm thirty-five years old and belong to one of the most powerful mafias in existence.

To the world, I'm a magnate.

A respectable businessman.

That's just a mask.

I checked into the same hotel as always. I had meetings with important associates and had just arrived from another country.

"Damian, your room is ready," Ernesto, my right hand, informed me.

I took the key without a word. I needed to change.

"Everything's been checked," he added. "Although it seems a staff member was still finishing up in the bathroom."

I didn't respond.

I walked straight to the room.

I went in and headed to the bathroom.

My clothes were wrinkled, stained from the trip.

When I came out with my suit hanging from the hook, I noticed Ernesto wasn't moving.

He was pale.

Staring at the couch.

I followed his gaze.

There was a woman sleeping there.

Barefoot.

Her heels were tossed to one side.

"Who is she?" I asked, without emotion.

Ernesto raised his hands, nervous.

"Get her out," I ordered. "When I come back, I don't want to see her here."

I left, irritated. My patience is limited.

The meeting dragged on.

Money, agreements, tension.

The same as always, though my thoughts were elsewhere.

There was noise in the adjacent room.

"I don't want any disturbances," I told the manager.

He resolved it immediately.

The deal closed.

Ernesto appeared afterward.

"The young woman left. She said she wasn't feeling well."

I nodded without interest.

Past midnight, Lori arrived.

She always showed up when I was in this country. She sat beside me, too confident.

I decided to go upstairs with her.

Already in the room, while she began undressing, I heard a noise above. Instinctively, I reached for my weapon.

I went up cautiously. I opened the door to the main bedroom.

There she was.

The same young woman.

Asleep.

In my bed.

I holstered my weapon. I shook her.

"Wake up."

"Let me sleep..." she murmured.

Fury burned through me and I went back downstairs.

Lori got dressed when she saw my anger and left without a word.

I tried calling Ernesto.

No answer.

I went back upstairs.

I wasn't about to leave a place I was paying for.

I tried to lift her. She pushed me away.

My head was pounding.

I stepped out onto the balcony and lit a cigar.

When I returned, she was sitting up in bed.

"Get out," I told her.

She lay back down and laughed.

I lowered my voice. I moved closer.

"Out."

She raised her hand as if she wanted to touch me. I caught her wrist.

I studied her up close. She was young. Too young. Small. Fragile.

She rubbed her arms as if she were cold.

And then... she threw herself at me.

A messy kiss.

A mistake.

I pushed her away... but something in me responded before reason could.

I stopped to look at her and, in the next instant, she lunged at me again. I wanted to shove her aside, but the clumsy kiss she gave me made me pull her against me to show her what a real kiss was — one that left her breathless, pulling away just to gasp for air.

A grave mistake she'd just made: first mistake, breaking into my room, and the second was tempting me like this.

I pressed her down against the mattress and she only stroked my arms, her eyes still closed.

I kissed her again and she offered her neck, which I bit, making her whimper.

"What are you doing?"

She said it, but there was no turning back now — I couldn't contain myself. I felt her slender body beneath me, her body calling to me.

I caressed her legs without stopping the kiss.

"Take me."

She whispered it, and between kisses, I settled between her thighs. Her lips were so different — I'd never kissed any like hers before.

She radiated sweetness.

I moved my hand to her panties, which I pulled off, then to her core, and my fingers slipped at how wet she was.

I stroked her, making her moan, biting her lip.

From my wallet I pulled out a condom — I never did it without protection.

I pulled down my pants and boxers, freed my cock, rolled on the condom, and positioned myself between her legs again. She was more than ready.

I slid inside her, and at first she winced — expected, given my size wasn't exactly average.

I entered slowly, with great effort, because she was impossibly tight, and the feeling of breaking through something as I pushed all the way in made me press my forehead against her shoulder.

She was a virgin.

"It hurts."

She said it, opening her eyes, and I noticed they were green.

The only thing I could think was that she'd been a virgin, and a stranger had just taken that from her.

Her entrance was so soft and tight I couldn't stop.

"Ahh, slow down, ahh."

She dug her nails into me, and the way she wrapped her legs around my hips, signaling me to keep going, made me quicken my pace.

Her pussy clenched tighter when she came, and I wasn't even halfway there. I could have any woman I wanted beneath me, but I didn't know what I'd been thinking when I pushed inside this girl. It was hard to stop, but I decided to pull away. I removed the condom and noticed the blood left on it.

She pulled her dress back down and swatted at the space beside her with her eyes closed.

"Lie down with me."

"Who does she think I am to do such a thing?"

I fixed my pants and cursed the moment I'd spread her legs. The ache in my head didn't compare to the one in my cock since I hadn't finished — and I wasn't about to, not with someone who had barely opened her eyes. I noticed the missed call from Ernesto.

When I finally separated from her, reality crashed down.

I stepped away.

The silence was heavy.

She pulled the covers over herself and spoke in a low voice.

"Stay..."

I didn't respond. I got dressed. My head throbbed violently.

I looked at my phone.

Missed call from Ernesto.

I called him back.

"Do you know who the young woman in your room was?" he asked without preamble.

I looked toward the bed.

"No."

"Anastasia Lincoln," he said. "Your half-brother's fiancee."

I smiled slowly.

I hadn't needed to look for her.

She came to me all on her own.

I woke to light filtering through a window.

The headache was so intense I wanted to scream, but I couldn't even manage that. The moment I tried to move... I froze.

Something wasn't right.

The light shouldn't have reached the bed from that angle.

I opened my eyes fully and the pain woke with me. My entire body ached, as if I'd been running for hours, as if I'd been beaten from the inside out. Every muscle protested when I tried to move.

I pulled the sheet over myself when I saw my underwear lying on the floor.

My heart raced.

I looked beneath the sheets.

The bloodstain stole the air from my lungs.

I started breathing wrong. Too fast.

My chest burned, my skin was on fire, and I felt like I was going to pass out again.

I didn't want to imagine what the rest of my body looked like.

Red.

Marked.

"What... what happened to me?" I whispered.

Where am I?

"Rene...?" I said, my voice broken.

I repeated his name like a prayer. I clung to that idea with desperation.

It had to have been him.

He had to have come for me.

He had to have brought me here.

After all... we were getting married.

I got up with difficulty and walked to the bathroom.

I cleaned myself as best I could, trembling. When I finally looked in the mirror, my stomach turned.

My neck.

Bruises.

Marks that couldn't be hidden.

I looked at my thighs.

Clear fingerprint imprints.

Faint bruises, but unmistakable.

My body hurt even to breathe.

I put my underwear back on with clumsy hands and left the room.

No one was there.

It was a hotel room.

I went down the stairs as if nothing had happened, picked up my heels from the floor, put them on, and headed out.

I took the elevator down.

No one looked at me. No one asked questions. It was as if I didn't exist.

I covered my neck with my hands and took the first taxi I saw once I left the hotel.

"Wild night?" the driver said, watching me in the rearview mirror.

I nodded without knowing how to respond.

"Why wasn't Rene there when I woke up?"

"Why did he leave me alone?"

We arrived home.

I asked the driver to wait. I went in quickly, grateful no one was there since I didn't know where my purse had ended up. I went upstairs, grabbed money, came back down to pay him, and returned to my room.

I showered.

The water fell, but it didn't cleanse anything. It didn't calm anything.

When I got out, I put on clothes that covered everything.

A turtleneck.

No mirrors.

The door burst open.

"Dad was really worried last night," Yajaira said.

"My friends rented a room... I stayed at the hotel."

"And you didn't tell anyone? At least your fiance. He came looking for you."

"Yes, I know..." I replied. "I was with him."

I said it because I needed to believe it.

She frowned, annoyed, and left.

I grabbed my bag and left the house.

At work, a coworker hugged me the moment she saw me.

"Ania, we were so worried."

"Why?"

"You disappeared. When we came back you were gone. We looked for you... no one saw you. And then—" She held out my phone. "Here."

My phone and my purse.

"I was with Rene," I repeated.

They exchanged glances but said nothing.

"Good thing you're okay," another coworker said.

I smiled as best I could and went to my cubicle.

I worked on autopilot. Attended to clients. Didn't think. Didn't feel.

During lunch hour, I saw my father arrive.

I went out with him.

"I was so worried," he said. "I looked for you everywhere."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't even understand what had happened.

He said goodbye when he saw Rene arriving.

"We'll talk at home," he told me as he left.

I watched them greet each other.

My father left.

"Hi," I said to Rene.

His face was tense.

Hard.

I wasn't prepared for the slap he gave me.

The blow burned my cheek.

"Where were you? Who were you with?"

I pressed my hand to my face.

"With you," I answered, barely audible.

"You turned off your phone. I couldn't track you. And those friends of yours... is that why you hang out with them?"

"No..." I shook my head, trembling.

"How did you manage to leave the hotel?" I asked. "How did you come for me?"

"What are you talking about?" he shouted. "I heard nothing from you until today. Nobody knew where you were."

The world collapsed around me.

I pressed my hands to my mouth.

No.

It couldn't be.

I wasn't with Rene.

I was with someone else.

I gave my virginity... to a stranger.