Page 17 of Declan

“She knows how to push buttons. Be ready, Connor,” I add with a wink.

Viviana is exactly what I expected. Well, not entirely. I thought that once she had the ring on her finger and was here at the mansion, alone, she’d settle into a submissive role. I thoughtthe firecracker attitude was for show. But I’m starting to realize it isn’t.

Standing on the balcony, nursing my coffee, I watch her. The morning air is still cool, but it does nothing to temper the heat building in my chest as I observe Viviana.

She’s stretching—deliberately slow—showing off every curve, every muscle, while my men gawk like idiots. A recruit, who clearly hasn’t learned his place yet, licks his lips as his eyes rake over her body.

She smirks, fully aware of the effect she’s having. And why wouldn’t she be? She knows exactly what she’s doing—stunning and so unlike the women usually around here. Damn it, I’m gawking at her too.

Fucking firecracker.

I can already see her plan unfolding. She thinks she’s found a weak spot, something to exploit: my possessiveness. She’s not wrong. But she doesn’t realize I’m fully aware of it. And I’m not about to let her use it against me without consequence.

I drain the last of my coffee, setting the cup down with a deliberate thud. I can feel the simmering anger, the dark possessiveness she’s so eager to provoke, rising beneath the surface. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of an immediate reaction.

I turn away from the balcony, heading downstairs. By the time I reach the front door, Viviana is already mid-run, her figure cutting through the morning mist like a siren calling to sailors. The guards are still watching her, oblivious to my approach.

“Enjoying the view?” I ask, my voice low and deceptively calm.

The men flinch, snapping to attention. The one who licked his lips earlier turns pale, realizing his mistake too late.

“Apologies, sir—”

“Save it,” I cut him off, my gaze hardening. “You’re here to protect, not ogle. If you can’t do your job without getting distracted, you’re useless to me.”

They nod, their eyes fixed straight ahead, none daring to look at her again. I step closer to the idiot, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “If I catch you looking at her like that again, you won’t like the outcome. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he stammers, but there’s something in his eyes I don’t like.

I dismiss them with a wave, and they scatter, all too eager to put distance between themselves and my wrath.

I head to the gym before going to my office. I need to take the edge off. This past week has been stressful as hell, and I’m still not sure if I made the right decision. This marriage, this connection to the Morellis—it makes the hairs on my neck stand up.

At the gym, the punching bag takes the brunt of my anger and frustration. It’s not just about Viviana; it’s the Koslovs, too. I need to find those bastards and fast.

Over an hour pass, and I end up sparring with Kian. I’ve always liked a good fight, and it’s been too long since I’ve had a real one. Maybe I’ll test the new guard from this morning next time.

After a shower, I head to the office. The second I open the door; I know she’s there. Her scent—subtle, floral, with a hint of spice—mixes with the aroma of the whiskey in her hand. My eyes flick to the bottle. The fucking vixen opened one of my most expensive bottles.

I’m not surprised, but I’m definitely not pleased. Viviana has a knack for inserting herself where she doesn’t belong, and this is no exception.

There she is, lounging in my chair like she owns the place. Her legs are kicked up on my desk, a glass of whiskey in her hand.The picture of defiance. She doesn’t even flinch when we walk in—just raises an eyebrow, takes a slow sip, and looks me dead in the eye.

Kian lets out a low chuckle behind me, but I shoot him a look that silences him instantly. Connor, ever the reserved one, stays quiet, though I catch the unease in his eyes. Viviana is like a storm that’s settled in our midst, and we all feel it.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed. My voice is calm, but there’s steel in it.

She smirks and sets the glass down on the desk with a soft clink. “Making myself at home. Isn’t that what a wife is supposed to do?

This place needs some decor; it’s all so dull.” She waves her hand dismissively.

Her tone is mocking, but there’s a glint in her eye—amusement, maybe even satisfaction.

“It’s an office,” I say, stepping into the room. Dark wood furniture, books, two big windows. It’s more than enough. Why am I even thinking about this? “Why are you in here Viviana?”

“Last time I checked,” she counters, not moving from her seat, “marriage is about sharing.”

I lean against the edge of the desk. “Let’s get one thing straight, Firecracker. You can roam freely around this house, but my office is off-limits. Understand?”

---