Page 3 of Desperate Crimes
Connor just grunts, but his eyes are across the room on his redheaded wife and the babies she’s carrying in her arms.
“Pardon me, I better go help.”
But he’s grinning, and that makes me think he doesn’t mind one bit.
I’m surprised to see a man like him settling down with his wife, who’s fifteen years his junior. But he’s taken to it like a fish takes to the sea.
“Married life suits your cousin,” I tell Balor who just nods at me.
His mismatched eyes are scanning the room, and I know who for, but I don’t mention it.
We all have our weaknesses.
His is Lucy Volkov.
Mine is her cousin.
So, who am I to judge?
“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and I know he’s found her.
Meanwhile, I move to another corner, finding my target easily.
Goddamn it, Leanna, do you know what you do to me?
But she doesn’t.
Of course, she doesn’t.
I’ve kept my distance.
For years.
Because she wasn’t ready.
Because I wasn’t.
But tonight? Tonight it’s unbearable.
It’s Christmas Eve, and the Volkov estate is dressed like a goddamn postcard.
Snow on the hedges, lights blinking softly in the windows.
Firelight flickering across crystal and bone china.
A family orchestra warming up in the parlor.
I stand near the bar nursing a glass of something expensive, pretending I give a shit about the conversation unfolding around me.
But I can’t take my eyes off her.
Leanna.
She’s in green.
A soft velvet thing, dark as the edge of a fairytale forest.
Her hair is pinned up with little white pearls like stars scattered in a dark sky.
