Bianca rolls her eyes, jabbing a thumb at Kratos. “Dude, you should see his brother Ares’ and his wife Neve’s kid. You'd swear they freakingclonedAres.”
Kratos beams. “Yeah, Achilles is going to be a little heartbreaker when he gets older. And if the Drakos genes extend past looks, that one…” He points at Bella. “She's going to be fuckingtrouble, just like her dad.”
Bianca laughs. “That’s where it stops. Deimos and Dahlia’s little girl Noor is pure Dahlia—oh my God, thathair. Freakinggorgeous. And Calliope’s boys Lachlan and Ronan are total miniatures of her husband, Castle.”
I don’t know Kratos’ family that well. I’ve only met some of them a few times. But it always amuses me that he and his siblings—and now at least one of the next generation too—were named after ancient Greek gods, titans, and muses.
Bianca glances at Milena. “Hey, do you and Nero know what you’re having yet? I have perma-baby brain and can’t remember if you’ve found out.”
Milena’s husband is Nero De Luca, head of the De Luca Mafia, certified psychopath and a good friend of my brother’s.
Milena glances down at her still completely flat stomach and lays a hand over it with a shy smile. “We don’t know. We've decided we want it to be a surprise.”
Bianca hoots a laugh. “Since when do you like being in the samearea codeas surprises?”
Our blonde friend grins. “Nero’s…altered my opinion on them,” she says with a flush to her cheeks.
I smile. “Aww, that’s sweet.”
Bianca cracks up, and Kratos flashes a shit-eating grin.
My brow furrows. “Wait, why is that funny?”
Bianca cackles. “She means Nero’s changed her opinion on surprises with the little games they play involving him jumping out and chasing her down before fucking her.”
“Girl!” Milena shrieks, turning beet red as Bianca howls with laughter.
Meanwhile, my face becomes the surface of the sun.
“Oh,” I mumble awkwardly. “I…get it now.”
“Sorry, Evie,” Milena giggles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she, Bianca, and Kratos laugh. “Your poor innocent ears.”
Innocent.
Naive.
Ignorant of all things sex.
I know they’re just teasing, and it really doesn’t bother me.
But they’re notentirelyright.
Maybe I don’t know as much about it as they do, given that they’re both married and, you know, obviously have sex lives. But I know more than they think.
I know what I’ve found online late at night.
I know the spicy Booktok recommendations I’ve read.
And I remember the one time I almost took the biggest leap of all.
It was months ago. I was feeling adventurous, and I don’t know…
Horny,maybe?
Whatever the reason, I found myself reading online about an app that Club Venom—the same Club Venom where I crashed Vaughn’s party—had released: a Tinder-esque experience that could match like-minded kinky people for “meets” outside the club.
You didn’t have to be a Club Venom member to use the app, but there was still a vetting process. They promised absolute discretion, and I understand why: I mean, they cater to some of the most powerful underworld people in New York.
