Page 5 of Desperate Measures

But of course, it wasn’t Michelle at the door.

It washim.

The man I had been dreaming about for months.

Liam O’Doyle.

Imagine for a second that your father ran a multi-billion dollar company where you were working as an intern on weekends and after school.

Now imagine you ran into a dark, sinful version of Prince Eric fromThe Little Mermaidevery time you went to the office.

He was simply stunning.

A tall, muscular, dark-haired, stormy-eyed genius. I knew from my uncles Liam was a wizard with technology.

More important than all that, the man made my poor tortured teenaged heart ache with longing.

Of course, he never noticed me.

Not only was I years younger than the man, but I was the daughter of the Dark Wolf.

Oh, Dad never shared those stories about himself with me, but I wasn’t some stupid twit.

I heard the stories, knew the rumors, and I was smart enough to believe them.

“Hello, Michaela, isn’t it?” he said, his expression unreadable.

He doesn’t even know my name.

My stomach plummeted, but I still stood there, drinking him in. Like some idiot who’d just gone mute.

“I thought prom was last month,” Liam said.

His dark brows furrowed as he looked at the dress I’d been so proud of just a moment ago. I felt foolish now.

Too young.

Naïve.

Silly, Micky.

You’re just a silly girl.

“It was,” I whispered my reply.

“Oh. Uh, is your father here?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah. Through there,” I pointed down the hall, feeling more miserable now than ever.

Even Liam was going tonight.

Liam O’Doyle with his midnight locks and emerald eyes. God, he was so cute.

Ugh. Why couldn’t I be older?

The sound of laughter and high heels clacking told me my mother and aunts were coming downstairs, and just like I predicted they were there a moment later.

“Good evening, ladies. You all look divine this evening,” Liam said smoothly, offering a respectful bow.