Page 61 of Declan

Before I can respond, he reaches for my hand. The small cut on my palm still oozes blood, and his fingers wrap around mine gently. Lifting it to his mouth, his eyes lock onto mine as his tongue darts out, licking the blood away.

The heat of his gaze and the slow, deliberate motion of his tongue make my breath hitch. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

He sucks at the wound gently, the sting making me wince. But I can’t look away, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that leaves me reeling.

At home, Declan, Connor, and Kian head straight for the study shutting the door behind them. I’m left standing in the hallway, frozen by the order to go to my room and wait for Declan. But waiting isn’t exactly my strong suit.

Pacing back and forth, the energy buzzing in my veins makes it impossible to stay put. Finally, I lose what little patience I have left, march to the study, and turn the knob without hesitation.

As the door creaks open, three pairs of eyes snap toward me. Connor and Kian stand like sentinels on either side of the desk. At the same time, Declan leans casually against it, sipping his whiskey like nothing happened. His eyes light up with amusement as he stares at me.

“My sister isn’t part of this!” I blurt, my voice sharper than I intended.

Declan’s eyebrow shoots up, his expression shifting to disbelief. “You’re joking, right?” His glass meets the desk with a forceful thud, the sound reverberating through the room. “You can’t seriously be that naive, Viviana.”

I glance at Connor and Kian, their faces mirroring identical looks of incredulity as if I’m some lunatic shouting about the apocalypse in the middle of the street.

Declan steps away from the desk, circling Kian and heading toward me, his movements slow and controlled. “We know it’s your father. He ordered the hit.” His voice cuts through the air like a blade. “The real question is… why?”

Instinctively, I take a step back, but the door clicks shut behind me, and I feel Connor’s solid presence at my back. His hands travel to my waist, holding me in place. Declan smirks as he comes closer, and my breath catches in my throat. My heart pounds as I realize I’ve trapped myself.

Declan’s eyes are locked onto mine, cold and unforgiving, as he stops just short of touching me. “Why,” he repeats, hisvoice dripping with menace, “did your own father order the hit, Viviana?”

Chapter 20

Declan

Waiting for her response, I watch her eyes dart between us, restless and calculating. She’s fucking hiding something; I can feel it, the way her eyes flinch just slightly, the way her hands fidget on the seams of her dress.

According to the maid, she’s been locked up in her old room all day, and every time I’ve seen her, she either closes that damn notebook or hides it. I searched for it and tore the place apart but came up empty. She’s hiding it well, but I’m not stupid.

She should count herself lucky. Connor intercepted more communications between Aleksandr’s men.

One of the perks of keeping Ivan’s situation hidden is that even the Koslovs don’t know where he is, so we’ve been using his burner phone and laptop to monitor their messages.

Most of them are coded, but when an email came through saying, “All set for the gothic princess,” I didn’t need a decoder to know who they were talking about.

The second Connor showed me that email, I was out the door. My men were already stationed, but that didn’t matter. She’s fucking mine. And there was no chance in hell I was going to leave her vulnerable with a target on her back.

My hands twitch even now at the memory of her struggling with that piece of shit that’s currently rotting at the bottom of the river, feeding the fish. She fought hard and made enough noise for my men to hear and act, but they’re still kicking themselves for letting it happen at all. They should. They’re damn lucky I didn’t cut their throats for their failure.

“Viviana,” I snap, pulling her attention to me. Her wide, olive eyes meet mine for a fleeting second, but they’re brimming with shadows, ones even deeper than mine. Whatever she’s hiding is pulling her straight into the abyss, and it’s dragging me right along with her.

Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, the muscles in her neck taut with tension. Her hands fidget with the seams of her dress, twisting the fabric nervously. I’ve never seen her like this, not even earlier today. What the fuck is going on?

“I don’t know,” she finally says, her voice a shaky whisper. Her gaze lifts to mine, but only for a brief moment before it drops again.

She’s lying. Her hands won’t stop moving, twisting and pulling at her dress, and her breathing quickens. Her chest rises and falls in short, uneven bursts and her skin is paler than I’ve ever seen it, almost translucent.

I lean in, lowering my voice to a cold, menacing mutter, my face just inches from hers. “Don’t fucking lie to me, or—”

“Or what?” she interrupts, her voice sharp and trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. “You’ll kill me? Take me to the warehouse like you did with those men.”

Before I can respond, her hands shove at my chest, surprising me. Connor steps in, but she turns on him in an instant, her knee flying up in an attempt to strike him. He backs off just in time, narrowly avoiding the hit.

Her fight-or-flight instincts have clearly kicked in, and of course, my little firecracker chooses to fight. Against three men, each twice her size.

I can’t stop the smirk that creeps across my lips.

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