Page 91 of Desperate People

There's a private infinity pool, a back terrace lined with lanterns, and solar panels that hum quietly under the sun.

I radio the perimeter team. The system beeps back.

Clear. Locked down.

Inside, I’ll show her everything—where I spend my time when I need to get away, the photos of my mother, the hidden cabinet where I stash the best local rum. If she wants, I’ll even make her a drink.

But first?

First I’m going to feed her. Then I’m going to undress her.

And then I’m going to spend all goddamn night worshiping the woman I married.

Not because I had to.

Because I wanted to.

She’s mine now.

She is safe and so fucking precious.

And if danger wants her, it’s going to have to come through me.

Chapter Twenty-Lucy

“Are you sure you’re done eating?” he asks, his voice that deep, rumbly whisper that always seems to slip beneath my skin.

I nod, dabbing at my mouth with a paper napkin.

“Can’t eat another bite,” I say, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to breathless.

He nods, that quiet kind of nod only Balor seems to do, like everything inside him is measured, carefully meted out.

Then he stands to clean up, moving with that same slow, deliberate grace that drives me absolutely insane.

I stay where I am for a moment, letting my gaze linger on the lines of his back, the muscles shifting beneath his shirt, the strong hands that just minutes ago fed me fried plantains and now rinse plates with quiet competence.

It should be such a normal thing—cleaning up after dinner in a kitchen—but it isn’t.

Not with him.

Because everything Balor does is intentional.

Quiet. Protective. Controlled.

And something about that—about him—sets every nerve in my body on fire.

He glances over his shoulder and catches me staring.

Instead of teasing, he just shrugs.

“I don’t keep on a lot of staff when I’m here,” he explains.

“I don’t mind that at all.”

“No? I thought maybe you’re used to something fancier. But, uh, this place is my sanctuary.”

I get it. I really do.

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