Page 104 of Desperate People

Including what my amazing husband swears on his soul will be the most decadent flan I’ve ever tasted.

“I wish I was gonna be here to see your face when you take that first bite,” he growled against my mouth as he kissed me goodbye this morning.

“I’ll save dessert for you. Husband,” I replied, teasing him with the title.

And the way he looked at me? God. That intense bi-colored look could start fires with no outside help.

It certainly lit something up inside me—hot and slow and dangerously close to spilling over.

I’d asked him why he went through all the trouble. Why he arranged the delivery, picked out every dish by name, and called ahead to make sure everything was perfect.

He’d shrugged, kissed my temple, and said simply, “I wanted to bring a piece of our honeymoon home. Didn’t mind sharing it—with the family.”

That’s what did me in.

Not the food.

Not the kiss.

Not even the memory of him stripping me down poolside in the moonlight.

It was that—the quiet thoughtfulness. The care.

My heart could burst from it.

And maybe, just maybe, it already has.

I look out the window and spot one of our security guards making the rounds, an enormous German shepherd at his side on a short, thick leash.

The dog’s ears are alert, posture rigid, trained to protect. The sight sends a chill down my spine.

Balor insisted on the extra measures.

He told me not to worry. That I’m safe now.

That he’s got me.

I just hope he knows that he does. Got me, I mean.

Lord, does he have me. Body, heart, and soul.

And sure, I’ve had security before. Perks of being a Volkov. I’ve lived my entire life under glass, with cameras, escorts, and bulletproof cars when the media frenzy gets out of control.

But this is different.

Because this isn’t about paparazzi.

This is about someone who chose to invade my space.

To hurt me. Someone watching me close enough to break in, destroy my bedroom, defecate on my bed, and leave a rose wrapped in lies and threats.

And somehow, that moment—the crash of fear, the spiral of panic—led me here.

To this mansion in Verona.

To Balor.

My husband.

---