Page 27 of Desperate Games

Dinner time.

Show time.

Time to pretend I’m not wildly spiraling inside.

The girls rise one by one, offering little squeezes and kisses on the cheek and gentle reassurances. But Lucy lingers.

She leans in close and whispers, “Behave yourself, Andrea, or don’t. But if you don’t take advantage of a man who looks at you like Remy Falco does? That’s basically a crime against humanity. And excellent abs.”

I laugh, but it comes out shaky.

And then I’m alone in the nursery.

Just me and the plush bears and the scent of baby lotion and possibility.

By the time I walk out and see him again, standing by the grill in a crisp button-down with his sleeves rolled up and his eyes tracking me like I’m the only person at this damn party?

I know there’s no hiding.

Not from him.

Not from this dream I haven’t quite let go of.

So, I make a decision.

If fate gave me one night and it wasn’t enough?

Maybe it’s time to take matters into my own hands.

Chapter Seven-Remy

It’s been a week since I saw her.

Seven days since the Callahan family dinner party in Verona.

And still, it circles my brain like a hawk over a carcass—unrelenting, waiting to strike.

Ono, Liam, Sammy—hell, even Connor himself—they all spent the night wrapped around their wives’ fingers like it was instinct.

Like that kind of loyalty was woven into the very fabric of who they are.

Old guard, new generation—it didn’t matter.

The Volkovs and Furys treat their women like they’re sacred.

Like they’d burn down the world just to make them smile.

And then there’s me.

Standing in a corner like some outsider with a predator’s stare and a dick that wouldn’t quit.

Because every time Andrea Ramirez so much as laughed, I forgot how to fucking breathe.

Junior clocked it.

So did Balor.

They both cornered me separately that night—one subtle, the other not.