Page 29 of Desperate Crimes (Mergers & Acquisitions #6)

“ I don’t understand why you couldn’t meet me at the house, Lee-Lee,” Mom says.

Her tone is soft, but I can hear the edge—the familiar thread of disappointment curling beneath it.

Not anger.

It’s worse.

She’s hurt.

I swallow against the guilt tightening my throat.

“I just have a lot going on, Mom. Sorry.”

“Give her a break, Sof,” Aunt Destiny cuts in, her voice warm and sharp like peppermint tea. “She’s got a life to live. She’s only twenty-four.”

“Twenty-five next week,” I remind them with a weak laugh, even though I feel like I’ve aged a hundred years in the last seven days.

My fingers twist the edge of the silk wrap I’m wearing, one of the many pieces Nico had waiting for me in that ridiculous closet.

It clings to my skin like a second secret.

God, he dresses me better than I dress myself.

And even though I’ve packed up most of my apartment and brought it over— boxes labeled with careful handwriting, little bits of the life I built for myself —there’s a strange, almost shameful truth I can’t ignore.

I like what he has for me here better.

The clothes in Nico’s closet—my closet now—are softer, richer.

The fabrics glide over my skin like a whispered promise.

Each dress, each delicate silk and lace lingerie set, feels like it was made not just for my body, but for the version of me he sees.

The one he’s conjuring from shadows and dreams. My dreams. And his.

It’s the version of me I have always wanted to be.

Sexy. Confident. Mature.

I pull a hanger down and run my fingers over the seam of a deep burgundy slip dress.

It’s the kind of thing I would’ve scrolled past online, too extravagant for the cart. But here?

It’s mine. It’s all mine. And more than that.

It’s his. Chosen by him. Paid for by him. Curated to his taste.

I have my own money. My parents set me and Michaela up with trust funds since before our births, and beyond that I’ve worked.

I’ve sold bits of art procured from rich collector’s and I’ve collected some pretty nice fees.

Still, I should be scandalized. I mean, who lets their husband pick out their clothes for them?

But I’m not. Instead, I feel like the heroine in one of those over-the-top historical romances.

The kind where a brooding, powerful Duke commissions an entire trousseau for his bride, dictating down to the shade of her corsets.

A man who conquers kingdoms and then dresses his prize in velvet and pearls.

Or maybe it’s darker than that.

Maybe I am a modern Persephone, led down into the underworld and crowned in obsidian and moonlight.

Maybe the dress is pomegranate red, and I’ve already taken a bite.

Only—I don’t hate it. I kind of like it.

I like that he thought of me.

That he knows my size—and is still crazy about me.

That he imagined what I’d look like in these colors, in these silks.

That he wanted me clothed in beauty because he already sees me that way.

I like that his obsession wraps around me even when he’s not in the room.

And maybe that should terrify me. Maybe it does, just a little.

But what terrifies me more is how much I want to keep slipping into the life he’s built.

Like it’s always been waiting for me.

“Well, then we’ll have to do something for your birthday!” Mom exclaims, clearly trying to rally. “But first things first. What are you wearing tomorrow? That blue dress you liked? The one with the little flowers on the sleeves?”

I blink, caught off guard. “The blue one?” I stall, scanning my memory and then Nico’s closet, where designer gowns in every shade hang like temptation.

“I don’t know, Mom. I’ll have to see.”

Blue sounds like a good idea, though. It’ll match Nico’s eyes.

Those eyes.

That sharp, electric blue that sees too much, wants too much, owns too much.

My heart gives a traitorous flutter.

Mom says something else, but I miss it.

I’m too wrapped up in thoughts of him.

Of tomorrow.

Of how everything’s going to change when I walk into the house with my secret husband at my side.

“Sorry,” I say, snapping back. “Can you repeat that?”

“I asked how the job hunt’s going,” she says. “Any idea what you’d like to do with that shiny new master’s degree?”

“Right. Uh, no, not really.”

Another lie.

Or maybe just avoidance.

The truth is, I haven’t thought about work.

Not really.

Not since Nico pulled me into his world and refused to let go.

Now, I’m orbiting something dark and magnetic— and I can’t tell if I’m the moon or the flame.

“I’m just taking a little time to figure things out,” I say, keeping my voice breezy.

There’s a pause, then Destiny speaks. “That’s okay, sweetie. Just don’t lose yourself in waiting.”

My breath catches.

Too late.

But I don’t say that.

Not yet.

Because tomorrow, I’ll have to say everything.

To my parents. To my family. To the world.

That I’m Nico Fury’s wife.

That I walked willingly into that particular Viper’s den.

And I’m still not sure if I’m walking toward salvation or surrender.