Welcome to the Den...
Seven years ago, Niklaus "Red" Volkov was offered an opportunity, one that would give him the ability to even the score with the Albanian mobsters that had tortured him for days and took the life of the only girl he'd loved.
But that gift came with strings...
Molded into the perfect soldier, Niklaus joined an elite group of mercenaries, loyal to a mysterious man known only as The Kingmaker. He willingly paid the price for means to fulfill the vendetta that plagued him each day.
Vengeance was all he knew...
And death was all he lived for...
Until it wasn't...
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About the Author:
With a degree in Creative Writing, London Miller has turned pen to paper, creating riveting fictional worlds where the bad guys are sometimes the good guys. Her debut novel, In the Beginning, is the first in the Volkov Bratva Series. She currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and two puppies, where she drinks far too much Sprite, and spends her nights writing.
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“Good to see you again, Niklaus,” she said, keeping her voice low as she poured his cup. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re purposely seeking me out.”
That corner of his mouth drew up again, but she wouldn’t consider that a smile, not with the way he was looking at her. “I am, unless you mind.”
She hadn’t thought he would come right out and admit it. “No,” she said after catching her breath, her face flushed. “Not at all.”
Reagan was readying to walk away when he gestured to the seat opposite him. “You have a minute?”
“I—sure.” She didn’t think she could have walked away if she tried. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing after work?”
She swallowed, the sound loud even to her own ears. “I’m…uh…well, nothing. Just home, I guess.”
When had she turned into this stuttering mess? Like she had never talked to a guy before?
“Come home with me then.” He said that without blinking or stuttering, and making sure she understood just how serious he was.
Since they weren’t busy, she didn’t mind sitting with him, actually found that she enjoyed being in his presence, even if he didn’t reveal much. As the statement and the implications of it hung between them, she had no idea how to respond. She wasn’t even sure therewas a correct way to respond to that.
But after a second, she found her voice. “What are you asking for?”
The question was whispered, almost as though she was afraid that their conversation might be overheard. Before he could answer, as she was finally accepting what he had asked moments before, she knew, as any woman would, exactly what he wanted.
“One night,” he said, his gaze like a physical caress as it swept over her from head to toe and back again. “Or two.”
A flush of heat swept through her at the dark promise she saw in those blue eyes of his. No one had ever looked at her that way before, like she was utterly, and completely, desirable.
Like she was the only thing he wanted to taste…
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