Page 45 of Declan

“Don’t be like that, Viviana,” Connor says, narrowing his eyes.

“Like what?” I try to brush it off, but my heart clenches, retreating into itself.

“He cares for you. I’d even say he likes you, in his own twisted, cold way.” He gestures theatrically. “Declan has a special way of showing affection. You just have to read between the lines.”

“Right,” I mutter. “Read between the lines. Must be like those lines in contracts, way down at the bottom, too damn tiny for anyone to notice.”

“Trust me,” he says, winking as he pushes himself off the wall, heading down the dark hallway toward the study.

I blink, trying to make sense of this whole conversation. Is he drunk? He doesn’t look drunk or high. Maybe he’s just... being chatty and nice?

I sit back on the couch, and before I know it, I drift off, only to wake up hours later to the feeling of a hand gently stroking my hair. Blinking slowly, I look up to see Declan, his eyes shadowed, pain simmering in them.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“Another attack. This time... our man...” He stumbles over the words for a moment, and it’s enough to show me the hurt. So, there is something beneath those cold walls in his eyes.

I sit up quickly, covering my mouth to suck in a breath. “Oh my God!” My eyes search his, half-expecting to see some trace of mistrust directed at me, but all I see is pain and exhaustion. Declan looks so tired; I know he hasn’t slept or eaten in days. I reach for his hand, and though he flinches, I hold firm, guiding him to the kitchen. It’s after midnight, and the house is empty and quiet.

I hear footsteps on the floor above; I’m guessing Kian has arrived with Declan.

“Sit,” I command, a little more forceful than I intended. He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement curling his lips as he sits at the table. I rummage for eggs, bread, and some cheese.

“You don’t need to,” he murmurs.

“Shhh,” I reply, trying to quiet him.

“Did you just shush me?” His tone is clipped, almost incredulous.

“You need to eat,” I say, softening my voice.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, but goes to the fridge for a beer, chugging nearly half in one go as he sits back down.

“Drinking on an empty stomach is never a good idea,” I say, shaking my head.

“Oh, come on, Mom,” he mocks, raising his hands when I give him a death stare. “Sorry.”

I smirk. “Just give me a minute,” I say, setting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him and returning to cut the rest of the cheese.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” he says, his voice quieter. I can feel his gaze burning on my back. I don’t turn; I don’t respond. “Though, I know you’d probably rather not see me at all,” he adds, sounding weary. Dark circles under his eyes give him a haunted look.

“You’re the one avoiding me like the plague,” I chuckle nervously, the silence stretching.

I hear the chair scrape against the hardwood, and my breath catches. His presence fills the space behind me, close but not touching, hovering like a shadow.

“Is that what you think, firecracker?” His voice loses its weariness, taking on a low, dominant tone that sends a shiver through me.

“I haven’t seen you since the fire.” I swallow, focusing on cutting the cheese. “You still think I had something to do with it? And with what happened today?” I try my best to hide the hurt in my voice; I don’t know why the fact that he thinks I had something to do with any of this bothers me so much.

I hear him take a deep breath, a faint grunt in his chest. “Turn around,” he orders, his voice thick with authority, barely a whisper in my ear. I freeze, my hands like ice, my stomach churning. “Viviana, I want to see your eyes. Turn the fuck around.”

Setting down the knife, I turn, careful not to brush against him. His tired eyes burn with something darker now.

Declan stares at me like a predator eyeing his prey. My breathing quickens, my chest rising and falling, skin hypersensitive under his gaze.

“I don’t think...” He stops, shaking his head slowly like he’s trying to find the right words. “I know you have nothing to do with this, Viviana.” The words hit me, and something shifts inside, something deep and raw. His eyes soften, though shadows linger there, and I ache to wipe them away.

Biting my lip, I try to keep my mind and body in check, but my body’s betraying me. I need to control myself; I need to hold back...

---