Page 1 of Desperate Crimes
Prologue One-Nico Jr
Christmas Eve
The Volkov estate is dripping in gold.
Crystal snowflakes hang from the chandeliers, the fireplaces roar in every room, and there’s champagne on ice beside thousand-dollar vodka no one touches until Adrik gives the nod.
Laughter echoes off the marble floors, and everywhere I look, people are smiling for photos, pretending they belong here.
Pretending they’re equals.
I’m not smiling.
I don’t need to pretend.
I belong right here with the Wolves and Vipers.
Because I’m one of them.
And because she’s here.
Leanna.
Draped in deep green velvet, her hair curled in glossy waves, a slit running up her leg that might kill me if I look too long.
She’s holding a glass of something fizzy and festive, laughing at something her cousin whispered in her ear.
The room glows around her like it knows she’s the reason it was decorated in the first place.
She doesn’t see me.
Not really.
She never does.
Not here.
Not at these dinners.
Not at the spring garden parties, or the fall wine tastings, or the fucking Volkov Foundation charity auctions where everyone’s on their best behavior.
But I see her.
Every fucking time.
I’ve made sure we’re always at the same events.
Close enough that our worlds stay orbiting, far enough that she never connects the dots.
Her father always invites me, of course.
I was raised beside the Volkovs.
I’ve been to their homes.
Broke bread with them.
Their patriarch, Adrik Volkov, knows me by name. He’s called me son once or twice over brandy and cigars at those legacy dinners our families throw like ancient kings reenacting feasts from a fallen empire.
