Page 18 of Desperate Crimes

“No! Nooo,” I exaggerate the word. “He was about as thrilling as unsalted toast,” I add with a smirk, hoping humor will deflect the next question I really don’t want to answer.

She laughs politely, but her eyes narrow. “So is that it? You’re just not interested in anyone right now?”

Not anyone I can have, I want to say.

But I bite my tongue.

Because how do I explain to my mom that the only man who’s ever actually stirred something real in me is Nico Fury Jr. and that he doesn’t even know I exist outside of honorary cousin status?

Worse—what if he does know I exist? And what if his ignoring me is his way of making it perfectly clear that I’m nowhere near his radar.

Not in the way I want to be.

Not that it matters.

He’s off-limits. Untouchable.

And me? I’m just Leanna Volkov.

The second child.

The restless one.

The one who still doesn’t know what the hell she’s supposed to be doing with her life besides look good in pictures and keep the family from guessing anything is wrong—that I’m restless.

“I’m good, Mom. Really,” I say, softer this time. “I’m just taking my time. That's all.”

“Well,” she says, squeezing my hand, “just don’t take too long. You deserve a bit of happiness—and some good sex.”

“Oh my God! Mom, no! Bad Mom! I am not talking about that with you.”

I can’t even pretend not to be horrified by this line of conversation.

“Fine, then let me just say this. You deserve someone who sees you, Lee-Lee. Really sees you. I just want you to be as happy as I am.”

“It wasn’t always sunsets and roses with you two,” I murmur, smiling fondly at the memories of tales I’ve heard about their epic love story.

“No, it wasn’t. But I found true love with your father. And Michaela has found that with Liam. I just want you to do the same, Baby Girl.”

“Thanks, Mom. Someday, yeah?”

I offer her a smile, even as something tightens in my chest.

If only she knew.

If only he did.

Chapter Four-Nico Jr

Present—On the Parkway An Hour After Lucy and Balor’s Party

The road hums beneath us, a low growl in my ears, steady and relentless like the beast inside me finally stretching its limbs after years in chains.

The dashboard lights cast a soft glow over her face—so peaceful.

Too peaceful for what she’s done to me. What she is to me.

Her head tilts slightly as the SUV curves along the coast, and I reach over without thinking, adjusting the pillow I tucked beneath her neck like she’s fragile, breakable, something precious I’ve already defiled just by touching.