Page 74 of Desperate Crimes
Better than normal.
It feels right.
Like we’ve done this a million times.
Like we were made for this.
For each other.
Like fate—dark, twisted, obsessive fate—had a plan all along.
This plan.
And that’s exactly when reality crashes back in.
Because I’m not in my apartment.
I didn’t wake up in my bed.
I’m not safe in the way I used to think safety meant.
I’m in the home of a man who stole me.
Who watched me.
Planned this.
Built this place like a shiny trap just for me.
But God help me, I don’t want to run.
I want to stay right here. With him.
Chapter Nineteen-Nico Jr
Breakfast is done.
The dishes are stacked neatly in the sink, the scent of syrup and cinnamon still lingering in the air like a memory.
She laughs at something I say—soft and unguarded—and I swear it echoes through me louder than any gunshot I’ve ever heard.
She’s light. Untouched. Beautiful.
And mine.
Finally.
I move before she can shift away, crowding her where she stands beside the counter.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s time for dessert,” I growl.
She looks up at me, and those dark eyes catch the light like fire-kissed obsidian.
“You don’t eat dessert with breakfast,” she says, teasing me, trying to stay light.
I shake my head once, deliberate. I lift her—effortlessly.
