Page 16 of Desperate Actions

Because Sammy Ramirez takes up every available inch of space in my head.

It’s shameful, I know. He’s kinda family.

But he isn’t. Family, I mean—and that’s the important thing.

Jade twirls me around, whistling low. “You do look amazing in red.”

I should say something. Should thank her properly, should soak in the compliment like a normal person.

Instead, I’m trying not to panic.

Because I made a plan for this weekend. A simple, rational plan.

1. I am an adult. Not a child.

2. I am tired of being a virgin.

3. I am no longer going to pine away for a man who doesn’t even see me.

Great plan. Smart plan.

Except for the part where,well, he’s looking right at me.

And not just looking.

He’s seeing me.

Sammy stands across the lobby, whiskey in one hand, the other clenched into a fist at his side.

His jaw is tight, his gaze dark, and if the way his muscles strain against that perfectly tailored button-up means anything, then, I mean, holy shit.

He sees me. And I think he likes what he sees.

I bite my bottom lip and pretend to listen to Jade while seemingly not obsessing over the fact that he is staring right at me.

Me. In this barely there dress that feels like sin and possibility wrapped in silk.

And suddenly, my whole plan feels like a joke.

“Thank you. I love your outfit too,” I belatedly tell Jade, even though I don’t even know what the hell she’s wearing.

The sisters, Jade and Coral, are bubbly and buoyant, closer to my age than their older sister, Clementine.

Michaela, Clementine, and Shelly are over by the bar, married, settled, with kids, but still here to celebrate my MBA.

And I love them for it.

Because the Volkov Clan—as Shelly lovingly calls us—is a beautiful, loyal, and awesome mishmash of Vipers and Wolves.

Or at least, that’s what my dad says.

We’re all close, but not all blood.

Nico Jr. and his sister Annabella (who isn’t here because she’s still in school) are my only actual blood relatives.

The rest?

Honorary family.

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