Marry the Russian by Milana Cheers

A man must know where his wife is at all times.
I don’t care if this deal with the South Africans will make me richer. I’m not getting tangled up in a marriage alliance to seal it. Then I lay eyes on the hazel-eyed beauty, and not only do I reconsider, I can’t sign the marriage certificate fast enough.
But when I return for my wife, her signature line on the marriage certificate is stubbornly blank. It seems my bride expects to be wooed.
Men in this lifestyle don’t woo. We don’t ask permission. We get what we want. Before this tender battle is over, one of us is gonna be on their knees.
And the running bet among my men is that it’s gonna be me.