Page 4 of Declan

“I think Giovanni gave them a fuckin’ script,” Kian chuckles.

“He probably did,” I mutter, though I don’t need to ask any more questions. I already know the answers will be perfect. Too perfect. The kind of perfect that makes you wonder what’s really going on behind those polished smiles. But I’ve got bigger things to worry about than their rehearsed responses.

Connor taps my shoulder, his eyes glinting with something between mischief and challenge as Viviana walks in, looking like she’s the one in charge. No fawning over anyone, no pretending.She moves through the room with the kind of grace that makes everyone else seem like amateurs.

She smiles, but it’s not the kind of smile the other girls give. Hers is more of a mocking grin, one that says she knows exactly what everyone’s thinking, and she’s already a step ahead of them. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, whisky still in hand like she’s daring someone to cross her.

“I’m guessing’ she didn’t get the same script as the others,” Kian whispers beside me, clearly amused.

“Doesn’t look like it,” I reply, my voice low but sharp. Viviana has that wild energy that looks and says she’s not here to play by the rules. And that’s exactly what catches my attention. Not her beauty, not her dress, but the fact that she stands apart from everyone else.

“Declan, Connor, Kian,” she greets us with a nod as she sits down. Viviana’s the first to use our first names, the first to acknowledge all of us like we’re not just some distant figures in her world. I can’t help but take her in, eyeing her from head to toe.

She’s a right vixen. That sharp, knowing look in her eye, the way she carries herself, it’s different from her sisters. She’s not pretending to be anyone’s angel. No, Viviana Morelli doesn’t wear a mask. She is who she is, and I respect that in a twisted way.

“How’s the night, Viviana?” I lean in a little closer, crossing my legs and catching her gaze. The way she looks back at me, there’s no hint of fear, no sign that she’s impressed or intimidated. She’s here to make sure the game is hers to win—or destroy.

“Could be better,” she smirks, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs with slow, deliberate movements. Her eyes size us up, not in the way someone would if they were nervous or calculating, but more like she’s inspecting a broken toy, waitingto see if it’s worth her time. She takes a slow sip of her drink, never breaking eye contact.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. She’s got the kind of confidence that could bring down a kingdom if she felt like it. And it’s not arrogance; it’s pure defiance. Viviana doesn’t care about playing the game. She’s here to burn it down, and for the first time tonight, I find myself hoping she’ll make things interesting.

“Viviana, how do you see your role in this marriage?” I repeat the same question, my voice is a little sharper than I meant it to be.

She pauses, narrowing her eyes at me like she’s studying me for the first time. “My role?” Her tone is sharp and challenging. “I don’t have a role in anything, Declan. But if I did,” she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper as she almost smirks, “it would be to make your life…” She drags the words out, her gaze flicking over me from head to toe with an unmistakable edge. “Less enjoyable.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and I can’t help but let out a low chuckle. She’s got fire, that’s for sure. No woman’s ever spoken to me like that. No women ever dared to.

Viviana leans back again, clearly satisfied with the reaction she’s gotten from me. “Let’s be honest, Declan. I’m the last person you would want as a wife, so let’s stop playing games and just choose Silvana. That way I can go home, watch some Netflix, and spare us all the drama.” She rolls her eyes dramatically as she finishes the last of her whisky like she’s done with this entire farce.

I can’t help but laugh, even though I know it’s not a situation for humour. “You don’t see yourself getting married?” I ask, curious now, knowing this is going to be even more entertaining than I’d first thought.

Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and she crosses her legs to the other side, shifting her focus toward Connor. The move is subtle, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. Connor shifts just an inch, and Viviana notices.

Her smile widens, and she locks eyes with him, her gaze calculating. “To you? Nope.” She doesn’t even glance at me when she answers, and the indifference in her tone only stirs something in me.

“But, to him?” She points directly at Connor. “Maybe.” She blinks slowly, and I see the red creeping up Connor’s neck. He’s blushing, trying his best to seem in control, but with Viviana? She’d bloody well destroy him. He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like her, and it’s almost too easy to see it.

“Interesting,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest as I study her. I’m not even sure what I’m thinking anymore. I’ve got a thousand thoughts running through my head. She’s dangerous and unpredictable, and I think she knows it.

“You can go,” I say, my voice suddenly cold and sharp. I don’t want her hanging around anymore. Not because I’m scared but because I don’t want her messing with Connor any longer. He’s close to crumbling under her gaze.

“See you later,” Viviana says, but she’s not speaking to me. It’s directed at Connor, her tone playful, mocking. Smart ass. If I pick her, Connor’s going to need to toughen up—quick.

Kian’s grin is already stretched across his face, that smug look telling me he noticed everything I just did. “Enjoying yourself, Connor?” he asks, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Fuck off, Kian,” Connor mutters, glancing over his shoulder one last time at Viviana as she heads back to the bar, that same damn smirk plastered on her face. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, and I don’t even think she realizes it.

“She’s interesting,” I add, more to myself than to anyone else, but I know they’re both listening.

Connor chuckles beside me, more composed now that she’s gone, crossing his arms. “Interesting? More like a fuckin’ headache. You sure you know what you’re at?”

I shoot him a look, one that’s half amusement and half annoyance. “I always know what I’m at. And if I don’t, I’ve got you two eejits to remind me, right?” I rumble with amusement, though I’m not entirely sure I want them involved in this decision.

“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the middle of the room, where Giovanni Morelli sits like a king in his domain, eager to hear which daughter will be sacrificed tonight. “Time to make this official.”

We move together, a united front, cutting through the crowd like a blade. People part for us without a word, their heads lowering as if they can feel the weight of the decision I am about to make. We are used to this, commanding attention and taking control. It’s what we do.

Giovanni looks up as we approach, trying to hide the nervous flicker in his eyes. He greets us with a tight smile, his voice steady but forced. “Boy,” he grins out like he’s trying to prove some kind of authority. Who the fuck is he calling “boy”? “I trust the evening has been… enjoyable?”

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