Logan Whitmere, the handsome owner of Cirque des Miroirs, is full of red flags: secretive, commanding, dangerous. I know better than to trust him, but I'm desperate for a way out of my small town, and he offers me a job as the fortune teller. What does Logan know that he isn't telling me? He seems to want to protect me—from the performers, from himself. I fall for his possession. I'm afraid of his obsession. There are secrets even the crystal ball won't reveal. When the truth is unveiled, I'm forced to confront my dark past.

New Orleans belongs to me. You don't know my name, but I control everything you see - and all the things you don't. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met. I didn't need to loan money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt. She doesn't know she caught my attention. She should've been more careful. I'm going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her. It's time to collect what I'm owed.

You know the story where the hero comes in and saves the day, rescuing the heroine right in the nick of time? This isn't that story. Instead of a knight in shining armor, he's a sexy, tatted-up Bratva boss with a reputation for being brutal and fierce. Vasily finds me after I've already been brought to my lowest—broken by cruel men until I barely recognize myself. He doesn't offer me salvation. He offers me protection and revenge. And I gladly take it. Because I don't need a knight in shining armor. I need a villain who doesn't mind getting his hands dirty.

Roman Melnikov is a deadly man in an expensive suit. I know what lies beneath the façade—the scars and tattoos that hint at the man he really is. He came here to find his sister, and his search led him to my dad and his friends. We both want to take them down, and the only way to do that is together. I had no idea how dangerous it would be, or that by the end of it, we'd all be covered in blood. Loving Roman is dangerous, but I can't let him go. His path is leading him straight to hell, and it looks like I'm coming along for the ride.

It's not every day your dean is a 6'4" dark god with ocean-blue eyes and a dimple. Just looking at him makes my heart pound and my stomach flutter. He's intense, filthy, and forbidden. Not to mention, he's my sister's ex-boyfriend. If I were smart, I'd walk away. Lines are getting blurred. Boundaries are being tested. And rules are about to be broken.