Page 6 of Declan

Giovanni calls his daughters over, his voice trembling just enough to crack the mask of control he usually wears. Viviana doesn’t even bother standing up. She flicks a glance up at him, her eyes full of disdain and challenge, daring him to force her into a situation she’s clearly not interested in. Goddamn, that woman is stubborn as sin.

“Declan has made his choice,” Giovanni announces, his voice wavering, and the moment it does, Viviana’s gaze snaps to mine. Her grip tightens on her glass so hard I think it might shatter; her knuckles turn white, and her jaw clenches. Ah, there it is. The realization. The spark of rage.

Giovanni clears his throat, his face paler than before. I swear this man fears Viviana more than he fears me. “Viviana, my daughter, you are given the… honour to marry Declan Callaghan,” Giovanni tries to smooth things over, his voice sickly sweet. I stifle a chuckle; he is only pouring gasoline on the fire.

We start heading up the grand staircase, the silence heavy around us, but before we can make it halfway, the sound of chaos erupts behind us. Viviana’s voice, sharp and furious, cuts through the room like a crack of thunder.

“What the fuck?!”

The party freezes. All eyes snap to her as she shoots to her feet, her face a mixture of pure shock and fury. Her chest is heaving, her hands clenched into fists as if she’s ready to rip the entire place apart with her bare hands. She looks wild, unrestrained like a storm waiting to be unleashed.

I can’t help the smirk spreading across my face. This is exactly the reaction I’d expected. Hell, I hoped for it.

“Giovanni is ageing before our eyes,” Kian whispers, and I almost laugh at the remark. Bruna and Silvana stand frozen, their mouths open wide, their faces pale with shock. Viviana is blazing with anger, a force of nature in the middle of this controlled environment.

Giovanni grabs her arm in an attempt to quiet her down, hissing, “Not here!” in a desperate attempt to calm her.

But Viviana isn’t having it. She rips her arm free, her glare cutting through the space between us like a dagger. “Oh, hell no, that will never happen!” she spits. “I’d rather choke to death than marry him!” She points directly at me, her voice ringing outbefore she storms past everyone and out into the night, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

Kian lets out a low whistle beside me, clearly enjoying the show. “Well, Dec, looks like you’ve got your hands full. Might want to sleep with one eye open.”

I chuckle, though there is a dark undercurrent in my voice. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Connor leans casually against the bannister, his eyes still on the doorway where Viviana has just vanished. “Think she’ll run?”

I shrug. “Let her. She can run, she can fight, do whatever the hell she wants. It’s not going to change a damn thing.”

Kian raises an eyebrow, half-teasing, half-serious. “You’re playing with fire, brother. Sure you won’t get burnt?”

I pause at the foot of the stairs, casting a glance back at him, the weight of my decision pressing on me. “Fire’s the only thing keeping the darkness at bay, Kian. Besides, I’m not the one who’s getting burnt.”

Chapter 2

Viviana

Oh my God. What the hell is wrong withthoseIrish fuckers?

Choosing me as the future wife—has he lost his mind? He had my sister; why me? My heart slams against my ribs, each beat harder than the last. I can’t catch my breath; the room feels like it’s closing in on me.

Panic grips me tight, my chest heaving with shallow breaths. Am I having a full-on panic attack?

I will kill them in their fucking sleep!

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Silvana approaching. Her face is ghostly pale, and her eyes are wide with disbelief.

“What did you do?” Her voice slices through the chaos, sharp and accusing, like I had any control over this.

“I didn’t do anything!” My voice snaps, barely holding itself together, teetering on the edge of breaking. “You’re the perfect ones! What the hell happened?”

She rolls her eyes, pacing back and forth. “We were perfect, but I guess he’s probably more into…” her hand traces me up and down, “…whatever mess you are.”

I glare at her. “What the hell does that even mean? Are you saying I’m… not enough?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, Viviana. Maybe he saw someone he could just get into bed easily.”

“Silvana!” snaps a sharp voice—our father’s. His fingers scrub his temples as if he’s been through this argument a thousand times. His frustration and helplessness couldn’t be more obvious.

Her gaze flicks between me and our father, searching for answers. But he just stands there, silent, a look of shock plastered on his face. The disbelief in his eyes mirrors my own.

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