Corrupted Prince by Autumn Reign

Soon, we land in Russia
Where my husband will be branded
Heir to the Bratva throne.
The charming corruptor, the devil in bed,
He rigs my position, chuckling darkly
As I unravel under his thumb,
Fall apart in his hands,
And come tumbling down in heavenly bliss.
But I cannot love him.
Those three words remain lodged in my throat
At the thought of what his family did.
So, as he defends his place as heir.
I am forced to stay by his side,
Those three words grappling inside my throat fighting for life.