Page 88 of Desperate Games

I grit my teeth, but I nod anyway. I’m here to do a job. This is part of it. Smile for the prince. Charm him. Earn the Volkovs another contract and prove to Sigma that Connor was right to bring me in.

But the whole time I’m nodding, I’m thinking about one thing.

Andy.

My wife. My girl. My reason. My everything.

And the faster I get through this bullshit, the faster I get home to her.

That’s the only thing keeping me in this fucking courtyard instead of snapping back with what I really want to say.

Chapter Twenty-Seven-Andrea

It’s Friday, and I am leaving work early today.

I stop to get Callie on my way to my parents’ home out on the Long Island Sound, and she’s chatting happily next to me about all her amazing school adventures.

Well, that lasts about fifteen minutes before she nods off, then I’m sitting back and scrolling through my digital camera memory, looking at all the pictures I’ve been taking since Remy’s been gone.

He was supposed to come back tonight, but he messaged me he’d be another day max.

Apparently, the prince he’s setting up training for has taken a liking to my man.

Can’t say as I blame him.

It’s been only a week, but I feel like I’ve gained twenty pounds since I’ve seen him. In reality, it’s three.

But still.

The babies are growing so fast, and my stomach is just super stretched.

I’m changing. Everything is.

And it’s all happening so damn fast.

But there’s another change coming, one I chose.

I told the head of my department I needed to start finding a replacement for my position.

Not because of maternity leave—though that’s part of it—but because I want to leave. For good.

I haven’t told my parents. Or my cousins. Or even Remy yet. But I have this gut feeling he’ll approve. Maybe he’ll even smile that rare, devastating smile that says he’s proud of me.

God, I hope so.

The rest of them? They’ll probably chalk it up to another “crisis of creativity.” That’s what Uncle Marat used to call it when one of us cousins got swept up in a hobby.

He never said it meanly, just matter-of-fact. Like it was inevitable for Volkov kids to fling themselves at shiny distractions.

Micky with her rollerblades.

Cora’s skydiving phase.

Clementine’s horses.

Me? I’ve tried everything from painting to pottery to yoga retreats in Costa Rica. None of it stuck.

But this? This isn’t a phase.