Page 131 of Desperate Actions

Every morning, we go to work together. Every afternoon, he stops by my office at least once—sometimes twice—just to check on me.

Sometimes, he brings me a treat. One of those decadent coffees I’m definitely becoming addicted to, or a melt-in-your-mouth cookie from the bakery on the ground floor of Volkov Towers.

But the truth? I’m more addicted to him than anything else.

He doesn’t even try to be romantic. It’s just who he is. And somehow, that makes it even worse for my already fragile heart.

The app is coming along beautifully. The team Sammy built for me is incredible—driven, smart, and dedicated.

It hasn’t escaped my notice that most of them are women.

And the two men? Well, they’re both old enough to be my dad and happily married for decades.

I get what he did. It makes me grin just thinking about it.

I hope he knows I’d never even look at another man.

Why would I?

Sammy is everything. The only thing I have ever wanted.

But something’s been weighing on him.

I see it in the way his jaw tightens when he thinks I’m not looking. In the way his fingers flex and curl, like he’s trying to hold something in.

He tries to hide it from me, but I know something is going on. Something that has him distracted.

I just wish he’d come to me with it.

Maybe it’s old-fashioned, but I want to be there for him. The way he’s always there for me. I want to ease his burdens the way he eases mine.

But tonight? Tonight, I have to go home alone.

A soft pat-pat-pat of rain hits my office window, the muted sound usually soothing. Not today.

Because Sammy just told me this morning—no discussion, no warning—that he wouldn’t be home until late.

He has something to do at the Vipers’ Den.

And my gut tells me that whatever is keeping him distracted is tied to that.

I replay our conversation in my mind, my fingers tightening around the edge of my desk.

It wasn’t much of a conversation at all.

“I need to do something tonight. I won’t be home until late.”

My stomach had dipped. Do something? That was vague. Too vague.

“Do? What do you mean?”

His gaze had flickered, but only for a second.

“It’s nothing. For work. I’ll be at the Den.”

Like that was supposed to comfort me. Like that wasn’t the worst answer he could have given.

“Sammy, are you okay?”

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