Page 108 of Desperate People

Neither of her two adorable red-headed babies are with her, which means one of her sisters or Connor must be minding the children.

Typical Volkov parenting.

We don’t generally trust outsiders when it comes to our babies.

Andrea and Aella are right behind her.

Aella is glowing, cheeks pink and round belly hidden beneath a breezy blouse.

She’s newly married to Sammy, and they just announced their pregnancy in the most adorable family newsletter.

Normally, I’d be squealing with them. But not today.

Right now, my fingers are clenched around that note like it’s a ticking bomb.

“What does ‘Ella es de él, pero yo la quiero’ mean?” I ask Clementine, barely hearing my own voice.

I can already guess, but I need confirmation.

Clementine frowns. “She belongs to him, but I want her. Why?”

Her gaze sharpens. Aella’s brows furrow. And Andrea leans in, sniffing the bouquet.

“Pretty flowers, cuz.”

I hold them out, and she takes them from me, distracted.

My stomach drops.

Shit.

I hand Clementine the note.

She reads it. Her mouth opens. Gasps.

Aella grabs the note next. Her eyes widen in alarm, and she lets out a gasp loud enough to make the hair on my arms rise.

“Uh oh. Lucy, who the heck is R? And does he have a death wish?” she asks, voice laced with disbelief.

I’m left wondering the same as we hustle inside just as another guard delivers our lunch.

The kitchen is large and there is an island with chairs where we gather to eat.

I leave the flowers on the dining room table. For now.

For a few minutes we chatter about nothing and make our plates. The food is delicious, but I knew it would be and I can’t help but wish Balor was here to enjoy it with me.

“Okay, so sexy but boundary allergic rock star guy is seriously stepping over the line with these flowers to entice you to do another video.”

“Yeah, because the first one didn’t bring her enough attention from psychos,” Aella snorts.

I shrug. It’s not like it’s a lie.

“And you’re married to an over-the-top husband with possessive issues—don’t argue,” she says and narrows her eyes.

Again, I shrug because, yeah I am and yes he is.

“I knew it! I could tell he’s just like the rest of them, you lucky bitch,” she says that part with affection and now I smirk my response.

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