Page 93 of Desperate Games

“Party animal? Ha. Just like everyone from any royal family we ever met. Entourages. Jets. Bodyguards. Sounds like an action movie.”

Dad doesn’t scoff. His stare lingers, heavy, unreadable, like he’s weighing my every blink.

And me? I sit there, stomach tight and twisting, heart aching like it might split me open.

Callie’s laughter rings out—bright, pure, echoing across the manicured lawn.

She’s serving pretend cookies and cupcakes to a row of stuffed animals in her play cottage, Mom watching her serenely, her curls bouncing with every movement.

The sound should comfort me. But instead, it sharpens everything.

Because here’s the truth I can’t shake.

I don’t know Remy. Not really. Not enough.

I know the feel of his hands.

The heat of his kiss.

The way he makes my body burn like I’ve never burned before.

But his world? His secrets? His truth?

Those still sit in the shadows.

And sitting in my parents’ house, with Callie’s innocent giggles in the background, I realize something that makes my chest hurt.

I’m falling too hard, too fast, for a man who may never love me the way I want him to.

And worse?

I don’t know how to stop.

Chapter Twenty-Nine-Remy

Fucking Stavros.

The Greek prince is a goddamn troublemaker.

From the moment we left Athens, it’s been one detour after another—parties in Paris, rooftops in Rome, private islands crawling with paparazzi, hangers-on, and half-naked chicks throwing themselves around like it’s the only language they know.

I was supposed to be on my way back to Jersey.

Back to Andy.

Back to Callie.

Back to my family.

Instead, I’m babysitting a spoiled royal who thinks the world spins on his gold-plated cock.

The jet smells like cigars and spilled champagne when I walk into the lounge.

When we land, it’s worse. Every fucking place seems to have a hot tub built right in the middle of wherever the fuck we are—indoors, outdoors, doesn’t matter.

It’s all bubbles, liquor, steam, and skin—stuffed full of women in little more than glitter and a smile.

Their laughter is high-pitched, hungry.