Page 33 of Desperate People (Mergers & Acquisitions #5)

T he tent is buzzing with the unmistakable energy of the Volkov clan.

A sea of familiar faces, laughter ringing out, the clink of glasses, and music weaving through the balmy Long Island evening air.

My family is here in full force.

My parents are holding court by the food table, looking every bit the power couple they are.

Mom’s cheeks are flushed with excitement as she chats animatedly with a group of aunts and uncles nearby, her hands gesturing like she’s telling a story she’s told a hundred times but never gets tired of.

Balor stands close beside me, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. His presence is steady, calm. Polite but commanding as he moves through the crowd with quiet confidence.

Still, I can’t shake the tight knot of nerves twisting in my stomach.

Just as I’m trying to settle myself, Mom breaks away from her circle and comes right over, wrapping me in a warm hug. The scent of her perfume— something soft and familiar —makes me feel a little safer.

She catches Balor’s attention too, and her eyes sparkle as she gushes over something I’d completely forgotten.

“Lucy, sweetheart, are you excited for tomorrow?” she asks, voice full of pride and barely contained enthusiasm.

Balor’s sharp gaze flicks between us.

“What’s tomorrow?” he asks smoothly, already sensing there’s something he’s missing.

“Oh, um, I forgot to mention it?—”

“You forgot?” Mom interrupts and gasps, her tone mock-chiding but affectionate.

She beams at Balor, clearly wanting to include him in the excitement.

“Balor, your stunning wife here is going to be photographed by Javier DeSoto! The famous photographer! I am so thrilled for you, honey.”

Her words fill the air, but beneath the surface, I catch the slight tightening of Balor’s jaw.

A flicker of something. Maybe tension? Possessiveness?

It passes through his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

“Photographed? What for?” Balor asks, voice low but direct.

Mom’s smile doesn’t waver.

“It’s for the charity calendar for Drew’s Place. Lucy is always willing to put her fame to good use, aren’t you, honey? And I mean, I’ve been after her to work with this man for years. Javier is a legend.”

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek.

My heart flutters, but so does that old familiar knot. Balor’s quiet for now, but I can feel the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

I want to reassure him that this isn’t about chasing limelight.

That it’s important to me.

That it’s about giving back.

But the words stick, and all I can do is squeeze his hand and hope he understands.

I blush, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“It’s no big deal, Mom. Just a photoshoot for charity.”

“No big deal?” Destiny laughs. “Honey, it’s a big deal when you’re doing something that matters.”

Clementine sidles up, grinning like she just won a jackpot.

“Did I hear you mention the photoshoot tomorrow?” she asks, grinning.

“I’m so excited,” Mom says, agreeing.

“Lucy, you’re awesome for doing this—for the foundation, for charity. Seriously, cuz, the eyes you’ll bring to Drew’s Place mean so much to me and to everyone involved,” Clementine says, starting to tear up.

“I let you out of my sight for a minute and you’re crying? Hey Balor, Lucy, Mrs. Volkov,” Connor says as he joins us, wrapping Clementine in his arms, kissing her cheek.

She smiles and laughs. But I don’t listen to whatever they’re saying.

How can I? I’m too busy watching my husband.

Balor’s expression tightens, his eyes flicking to me before settling on Connor.

“Explain,” he says, his tone flat but not unkind.

Connor starts, but Clementine is nodding enthusiastically.

“She didn’t tell you? Oh, it’s this fundraiser we’re doing. A calendar— a fancy one —with local celebs and influencers. All the money goes straight to Drew’s Place, more importantly to our new West coast location. But you know all about that, Balor. Anyway, Lucy’s a perfect angel for doing it.”

Balor’s jaw clenches, his gaze sharpening. I see the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“And this shoot is tomorrow? Where?”

“One o’clock sharp at the Washington Square Arch,” she says.

“I’m sure it’s going to be fast,” I say quickly, squeezing his hand. “Really, it’s just a few photos.”

He nods slowly but doesn’t say more.

From across the tent, Nico Jr.’s voice cuts through the chatter like a shot.

“Yo, Balor, I thought you were keeping our Diablita out of trouble?”

I flinch, my pulse quickening.

My eyes dart to Balor, searching his face for any sign of what this means.

“What?” he snaps back, sharp and instant.

Nico doesn’t miss a beat. “Look, El Tigre’s team just announced your little wifey here is in talks to do the new video.”

He strides over, waving his cell phone like it’s a trophy.

I catch a glimpse of the screen.

Shit.

There’s an interview with the star’s manager, smiling and sly as he talks about the upcoming collaboration.

What the fuck?

My mind spins. I want to speak, to explain, but the words catch in my throat.

Balor’s lips curl. Just a little.

Not a smile. More like a growl, barely restrained.

“I don’t know anything about that—” I start, voice tight and uneven.

He shakes his head, then turns to me, slipping a kiss onto my hand.

It’s a quiet gesture, but it calms the cyclone inside me instantly.

He takes the phone from Nico, his eyes scanning the screen with sharp focus.

After a long moment, he hands it back.

“Well? Thought you were stopping this shit,” Nico calls out, amusement shimmering in his eyes as he nudges Balor.

My freaking honorary cousin loves nothing more than to stir the shit pot.

Balor’s voice lowers, rough and gritty. “I am trying to keep her out of trouble.”

Behind us, Andrea snorts—loud and unapologetic.

“Don’t make excuses for Lucy. We all know her. She attracts trouble like bees to honey. Hell, we’ve all taken turns trying to keep her out of it.”

It’s not meant to be cruel, not really. Just family ribbing. But it hits me like a slap to the gut, anyway.

Laughter bubbles all around the tent, but inside, my chest tightens, squeezing like it’s about to crack.

Do they all see me this way?

Like some fragile thing who’s constantly in need of watching?

Like the “poor simple Lucy” who can’t stay out of trouble—even when she’s trying?

I feel the sting of their words, even if wrapped in affection.

I steal a glance at Balor, searching his face.

Is he feeling this too?

Or is he steadier than I am?

His jaw is set, eyes scanning the crowd, but when they flick to mine, I catch something— something steady and sure.

Maybe I’m not just the trouble magnet they joke about.

Maybe I’m the woman Balor chooses to fight for.

And that thought wraps around my heart, squeezing it with hope and fear all at once.

Somehow, that steadiness I see in Balor’s gaze gives me the courage to breathe again.

But the knot in my stomach?

It’s still there.

That’s not going anywhere tonight.

Still, I feel the tension in Balor’s body.

The way his fingers tighten around mine just a fraction, the set of his shoulders.

I want to tell him it’s okay to trust me, to just let this moment with my family roll off us like water off a duck’s back.

But the words stick in my throat.

Because the silence between us speaks louder than anything else tonight.

And all I can do is keep whispering the same simple, desperate prayer over and over in my mind.

Please let him love me.

Please let me be enough.

Please don’t let him walk away .

Because if he leaves— if this all falls apart —I don’t know how I’ll survive the pieces.

I’m holding onto hope like a lifeline, clutching it so tight it hurts.

And maybe that’s the scariest part of all.