Page 7 of Bound

Declan pulls various ingredients from the cabinets and plugs in the waffle maker. Awkwardly inching toward the counter, I ask, “Do you need any help?”

“Someone,” he teasingly eyes Fiona, “has requested waffles every day this month. At this point, I could make them with my eyes closed.”

Who is this man?

The Declan Evans I grew up with is egocentric and irritable. That didn’t change as he got older. He actually became grumpier and more standoffish. Yet, inside the confines of this apartment—or at least when it comes to Fiona—he’s the polar opposite.

Turning my attention from his to Fiona, I feign a gasp. “Every day? You reallyaregoing to turn into a waffle.”

She erupts in a fit of giggles before saying, “You’re silly. I can’t turn into a waffle.”

“What do you say, tomorrow, we give your dad a break from making waffles, and we surprise him with some muffins?” I ask, kneeling down to her level.

“Uh-huh!” She vigorously nods with wide, excited eyes. “Boo-berry ones.”

“Blueberry it is, kiddo.” I outstretch my hand to officially shake on our agreement. She slides her little hand into mine and enthusiastically shakes it. As I stand, Declan mouths the wordsthank youwith an expression that would make anyone think I just saved his life.

The three of us spend breakfast making small talk. Fiona, who tells me in graphic detail about all the toys she plans to show me today, leads most of the conversation. After finishing the last bite of her breakfast, with her lips and chin sticky with syrup droplets, she shares her plans for our tea party and how much she wants to go to the park this afternoon.

“That’s a big day you have planned for us.” I smile at her over my cup of coffee, wondering how I will ever have the energy to keep up with her. “What are we doing at the park? Swings or slides?”

Declan glares at me for a second before gently informing Fiona, “You’ll probably be too tired for the park with the big day you have planned.” He wipes a little syrup from her face. “You’re all sticky. Why don’t you go wash your face and get dressed? I’ve put your clothes out on your bed. I’ll come and give you some help if you need it.”

Fiona stands from the table and carefully carries her dishes to the counter by the sink as Declan’s displeased gaze falls on me. He stays silent until Fiona disappears down the hallway. “We need to discuss some rules.” His voice is gruff, trying to hide his anger.

“Rules?”

“Yes, Quinn. Rules. Under no circumstances will you leave this apartment with my daughter without my permission,” he grits. “And I would appreciate itif you didn’t get her hopes up about things like going to the park.”

There’s the Declan I know.

“You can’t be serious?” I feel my brows involuntarily pinch together in disbelief. “You want me to keep a three-year-old holed up in this apartment day in, day out?” While his place is massive, and there is plenty of room for her to run and expel her energy, that’s no way for a kid to grow up.

“You have no idea how fucking serious I am,” he huffs. “She is my fucking world, and it’s the only way I can ensure no one will ever hurt her.”

“Decla—”

“This isn’t the time for your stubbornness, Quinn.” He interrupts me. “This is not up for debate. If you can’t do as I say, this will not work out. I will find some?—”

“Slides!” Fiona shouts, returning from her room. Her face is unwashed, but she is dressed. Even if her shirt is on backward. “We can race on the slides.”

Feeling Declan’s eyes on me, I force a huge smile and reply, “That sounds fun, kiddo,” I pause briefly to shoot an annoyed glance at Declan. “Hopefully, we both won’t be too tired from all the other fun you have planned for us today.”

Declan pushes back his chair and stands from the table. “Daidineeds to get ready and head to work.” He gives Fiona akiss on the forehead. “Be a good girl for Quinn today.”

“Yes,daidi.”

“I love you,a stóirín.” Declan stares at me for a moment after saying goodbye to her, and leaves without another word to me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

DECLAN

The entire drive to the club is spent thinking about Quinn and how fucking stubborn she is. With every block that passes, I find myself growing more concerned that she isn’t going to adhere to the single rule I left her with. After pushing the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel, I transcribe a text message to her.

I was, and am, very serious about not leaving the house, Quinn.

Her response flashes across the screen almost instantly.

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