Page 28 of Desperate Crimes (Mergers & Acquisitions #6)

T he week blurs.

A dream stitched together by silk sheets, stolen kisses, and the sound of Leanna’s laugh echoing off the walls of our home.

I work from the mansion—our mansion now—not because I can’t go in, but because I can’t stand to be away from her for too long.

Between coordinating her move without raising red flags and spending every waking— and sinfully sleepless —moment proving to her that I’m not just obsessed, but fucking devoted, it’s been a week of pure, uncut heaven.

But I know we can’t live in isolation forever.

Sooner or later, the world will come knocking.

Leanna hasn’t settled on a career yet.

She's newly graduated with a master's in business, though her passions live in the wild places of her mind—French existentialist literature and art history, her two minors.

She reads Camus and Foucault like some people read cookbooks, and she’s the only woman I know who can quote Sartre while stripping out of thousand-dollar lingerie with a smirk.

And now? She’s in the garden I built for her, cataloguing the flowers in a small leather-bound notebook with careful, curious attention.

I watch her on the monitor, entranced.

A soft summer breeze flutters her long dress around her legs, the hem dancing across her thighs like it’s in love with her too.

The fabric clings to her curves, and her long, tousled hair gleams like burnished gold in the dying light of day.

She looks like a storybook fairy, half-wild and half-divine, with ink on her fingers and petals stuck to her skin.

Goddamn.

This woman is everything.

She doesn’t flinch at the presence of the guards. Doesn’t question the extra locks, the perimeter alerts, or the biometric safes.

And why would she? She grew up Volkov, a princess of another empire.

Her father's enemies weren’t petty criminals—they were international threats.

So maybe, just maybe, she understands.

Still, I know her parents are going to lose their fucking minds.

The cousins already know. They’ve kept their mouths shut, though I’ve already fielded one call from her righteous sister, Michaela. And her husband, Liam O'Doyle, Leanna’s brother-in-law. I don’t underestimate either of them.

But here’s the thing—they don’t get a vote.

Leanna isn’t up for negotiation.

She loves me.

She said so.

Therefore, she's more mine than ever.

Not a pawn.

Not a bargaining chip.

Not a goddamn collectible to place behind glass .

My wife.

And nobody— nobody —gets to take her from me.

The buzzer on my desk chirps once.

Short. Sharp. Insistent.

It’s my private line—reserved for Viper business and emergencies.

I hit accept without looking up from the monitor feed where Leanna still walks the garden, sunlight dusting her like fucking gold.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, bro,” Sammy says, his voice lined with that deadly mix of sarcasm and concern that tells me one thing— I’m about to be fucking pissed.

“What,” I bite out, already grinding my molars.

He clears his throat. “Don’t bite my head off, but one of my guys on the Caas deal just checked in. Said that he’s sniffing around, in talks with someone we both know.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“Just my uncle. Your new papa-in-law . Adrik Volkov.”

My spine straightens like someone poured cold steel into it.

“What?” I growl. “Gianni Caas is talking to Volkov Industries?”

“Not just Volkov Industries. He’s on the line with Adrik himself.”

“That two-faced motherfucker,” I snap.

“Yep. That’s one word for him. I told you I didn’t like him, Junior. Anyway, it doesn’t seem like Uncle Ad knows you or Viper Enterprises are involved yet. But he’s making inquiries on Caas’ property—quiet ones. Smart ones.”

I slam my palm flat on the table, rattling a crystal tumbler full of untouched bourbon.

“Fucking hell.”

“I know. But hey—silver lining? If you did close the Caas deal and handed it over as a goodwill offering, that might take the edge off the whole ‘I ran off and married your daughter in secret’ thing.”

I snort. “You think Adrik goddamn Volkov wants a fucking bridal gift from me?”

“I think Uncle Adrik wants leverage in Southeast Asia. Caas’ company would give him that. It’d be poetic— bloody, but poetic . You get the girl, and you hand Daddy a solution to a five-year problem.”

I lean back in my chair, grinding the heel of my hand into my sternum like I can press the fury down deep enough that it won’t boil over.

“That explains Caas’ sudden radio silence. Asshole thinks he can play chess with the fucking Vipers and Wolves.”

“Well,” Sammy says dryly, “you’ll cure him of that. I’ve seen you work.”

I roll my neck, feeling every vertebra crack like thunder.

“Oh, I’ll cure him,” I murmur. “With interest.”

“Not done yet,” Sammy adds, his voice lowering. “Aunt Sofia’s been to Leanna’s apartment. She’s poking around.”

My eyes flash toward the wall of screens again—one of which shows Leanna in her soft dress, bent slightly as she writes something in that little notebook she loves.

“She find anything?”

“Not yet, but the woman is a bloodhound, Junior. And she’s close to sniffing out the truth, bro.”

My pulse kicks.

“Define close.”

Sammy hesitates. “Like inner-circle close. Someone tipped her off that Leanna’s not staying at her place. And it wasn’t the cousins. They’ve kept your secret.”

“Fuck.” The word is a growl.

There’s a sharp silence between us, filled only by the whisper of the security feed and the hum of the server tower in the corner.

I clench my fist.

“Find out who the leak is. I want a name, and I want it by tonight.”

“On it,” Sammy says quickly. “And hey—what are you gonna do about Caas and Uncle Adrik?”

I stare at my wife on the screen.

She’s crouching beside a rose bush now, brushing her fingers along the edge of a black rose in bloom. A special breed I planted just for her.

My chest tightens. My blood boils.

“I’m going to remind Gianni Caas who the fuck I am,” I say coldly. “And then I’m going to sit across from Adrik Volkov and let him understand one thing—he’s not losing a daughter. He’s gaining a man who will burn the world down to keep her safe.”

I end the call.

And then I open the drawer.

Because if this is turning into a war?

Then it’s time I dress for battle.

My muscles tense.

My hands curl into fists as I stare at the screen. Leanna is twirling a black rose in her fingers like she’s spinning fate itself.

Completely unaware. Completely mine.

“Keep an eye on every approach,” I growl into the comm I use to talk to my head of security.

“Boss?”

“I said, double the guards on the west perimeter. No one gets in or out unless I authorize it personally.”

“We expecting trouble sir?”

“I’m expecting her father.”

My guy goes quiet for a beat. Then, in a lower voice, “Should we alert Mrs. Fury? Tell her to return inside?”

I look at the screen again, at the garden.

At her.

The woman who makes even this wicked world feel like it could be beautiful. Who softens the monster in me without trying.

“No,” I say. “You never tell her anything. That’s for me to do.”

And I will.

Just not yet.

Let them come.

Let Adrik rage.

Because when he looks into my eyes, he’ll see it— that I’m not some reckless boy chasing a girl.

I’m a Fury.

And I don’t let go.

Not of her. Not ever.