Page 4 of Desperate Games

“Wanna see my room?”

His grin is pure trouble.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that, the story changes.

Not a fairytale.

Not a romance.

But maybe? It’s the beginning of something I can have for the rest of my life.

Prologue Two-Remy

Volkov-Fury Wedding, Private Island Same Night

Creeping on Andy Ramirez isn’t something I planned.

But, fuck me—I can’t not.

The braces? Gone.

Freckles? Faded.

That awkward little girl I remember tagging along behind Sammy and Junior like a pint-sized hurricane?

Nonexistent.

What’s in her place is dangerous.

Gorgeous.

She’s a fucking vision.

Curvy and confident.

Wearing that rose-colored bridesmaid dress like sin was sewn into every stitch.

Swathed in silk, hips swaying, a wicked little smile tugging at her glossy mouth as she tosses back another shot and flirts with the chaos around her.

If Junior knew what I was thinking right now, he’d slit my throat and toss me into the sea.

No hesitation.

Good thing he’s too busy being stupid in love with his new wife to notice me watching his wife’s cousin like a starving man watches a feast.

Because that’s what she is.

A feast.

And I’m fucking ravenous.

I didn’t come to this wedding expecting anything. Just a few days off-grid.

Sunshine. Booze. Crystal clear waters.

Some familiar faces. Maybe some networking.