Page 5 of Desperate Desires

I didn’t blame her. And when Liam asked me to help, of course, I did.

There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Michaela, or any of them, really.

I was damn proud of her. Micky was the first of our generation to start a family, and now Clementine was on her way, too.

I couldn’t help but be happy for them. But with that happiness came a sort of sadness.

A realization that I might never be so lucky.

The fact was, I’d likely never have kids of my own. But I wasn’t jealous. That wasn’t the right word. It was more like determined. See, their kids were like mine.

So, it only made sense to consider pediatrics as my area of expertise. Maybe even pediatric medical engineering someday, too.

Lately, I found myself pouring over every article I could find about new methods and tools, like the advancements in helmet therapy, that might be useful.

Yes, their kids were likely as close as I’d get to having children of my own. And I wanted to be able to help any way I could.

The aunt who raised me hated kids. Deep down, I supposed I was scared to wind up like that.

Of course, my rational brain knew that wasn’t logical. But it was a fear I’d kept, a secret buried deep down inside of me.

“Ugh. Go to bed, Shelly,” I scolded myself.

Must have been the meds I took, making me think about such craziness.

I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose, which was probably why I missed the sound of someone breaking in through the back door.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned my head and swallowed.

There was simply no missing the massive stranger slumped against the wall, or the fact he was leaking blood all over my floor.

He looked scary, dangerous, and not because of the blood. He wore a long, dark coat over an expensive suit. His hair was tousled, but I could tell it had been combed back.

No jewelry that I could see. But he was tattooed. And big. Like really big. Well over six feet.

“What—Who are you?” I gasped, getting a good look at what was a handsome, though pale face.

He seemed familiar. But I couldn’t place him. Maybe it was because he so resembled the men of the Volkov Clan in that he was large, handsome as sin, and dressed expensively.

I shuffled off the couch and faced him, uncaring of the fact my robe had opened, and that I was wearing a pair of granny panties and a tank top beneath the thing.

My breath caught in my throat, threatening to choke me. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Like cobalt.

Simply stunning.

“Ono,” he gasped.

“Oh, no?”

He smirked, then winced. That tiny expression had hurt him, and I felt my instincts go into overdrive.

“No. My name is Ono. Can you keep a secret, Doc?” he asked, his gaze traveling down my body before flicking back to my face.

I nodded, mesmerized by his brilliant blue eyes and the unmistakable heat I saw simmering behind the obvious pain.

“Good,” he groaned softly, then he slid to the floor and passed out.

“Shit.”

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