Leonid Kozlov — the CEO of Kozlov Empire — can't be my boyfriend.

This has to be some sort of sick joke. I lost my memory in the accident, not my mind.

That insanely tall, intimidating, dangerous Greek-God billionaire who breaks hearts over breakfast and ends careers over dinner — he doesn't do feelings. He doesn't date.

More than half of the supermodels are probably dying to have a look at his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders. And I'm sure he doesn't even look at them.

But he holds my wrist, and his steel-grey eyes look straight into mine: "Malyshka, I am not letting you go anywhere."

My pupils dilate. My heart skips a beat. And I know I am doomed.

I have to figure out what this ruthless Russian wants from me.

No cheating. HEA Guaranteed.