Page 51 of Declan

“I’ll wait for you tonight, Dec,” I reply, somehow managing to sound steady as I trace light circles over his chest with my fingertips. His muscles tense beneath the crisp fabric of his suit, and I bite back a smirk.

His thumb presses gently under my chin, tilting my face up. His gaze drops to my lips. “It’ll be hard for you all day,” he murmurs, his voice a wicked groan. My triumphant smile spreads in response.

He laughs softly, and his lips capture mine again, softer this time, teasing. He sucks gently on my bottom lip, releasing it with a faint pop that leaves me breathless.

Then, just like that, he steps away. The absence of his warmth hits me like a cold gust of wind. I watch him retreat, his powerful strides commanding the room. The way his thighs move—those thighs that pinned me down last night, forcing me to open wider to take him...

No! Stop it, Viviana! Bad Viviana! What the hell is wrong with me? Calm down, for fuck’s sake!

I take a shaky breath, glancing around, desperate for a distraction. Anything to keep my spiralling thoughts at bay.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and my father’s name lights up the screen. My stomach twists as a wave of dread crashes over me. Not now. Not him.

I stare at the call, my chest tightening. It feels like the walls are closing in, squeezing the air out of my lungs. My heart pounds like a freight train under a mountain of bricks.

Shaking off the feeling, I focus on the task ahead. After everything that’s happened, I need answers. I need to be sure.

With the mansion empty except for a few guards in the lobby and outside, this is my chance. My pulse races as I climb the stairs to the top floor, each step amplifying my nerves. I stop in front of the door, my stomach churning. What if there are cameras? An alarm?

I take a deep breath, steadying my trembling hands. The lock is new, but I can pick it. My fingers work quickly, the faint click almost deafening in the silence.

The room is just as I remember. I scan the door frame and corners for signs of alarms or cameras—nothing. The faint scent of scented candles lingers, the kind she must have loved. Her ring and scarf sit undisturbed on the desk beneath the small window, frozen in time, just like the last time I was here.

A shiver runs down my spine as I remember that day. It feels wrong like I’m trespassing on sacred ground. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking the stillness. I’m not even sure if I’m apologizing to Declan or her.

I work quickly, taking photos of every document, picture, and list. I need to study all of this. If there’s something here, I’ll find it. When I’m done, I put everything back exactly as I found it. The lock clicks shut behind me as I leave, my heart pounding in my ears.

By the time I reach my room, my hands are clammy, and my breaths come in shallow gasps. A crushing weight settles on my chest, and I feel like I’m standing on the tracks, waiting for the freight train to hit.

I text Declan, asking if I can go to his office to grab a notebook and pen. I know the office is monitored with security cameras, and alarms. A few minutes later, my phone buzzes with a reply.

Declan:

Sure, the new notebooks are in the first drawer to the left, and the pens are on the table.

As I’m about to reply, another text appears:

Don’t touch anything else, firecracker, or I will punish you tonight.

Punish me? Is that supposed to be a bad thing? Don’t Iwantthat? I lick my bottom lip, feeling my bratty side surface teasing me. “You can trust me,” I text back, adding a wink emoji.

His office is immaculate, almost intimidating. The walls are stark white, a sharp contrast to the black furniture that fills the space. A black oak desk sits directly under the window, paired with a sleek leather chair. Papers are neatly arranged around the desk, and the computer is off.

I open the first drawer as instructed and retrieve the notebook. From the corner of my eye, I catch a faint red light flickering in the

ceiling’s corner. Of course, Declan activated the live feed. I make a point not to glance directly at it as I take two pens from the desk.

Just as I’m about to leave, mischief ignites in my chest. Looking straight at the camera, I smirk, deliberately move one file from left to right, and stick my tongue out before walking out and locking the door behind me.

My phone buzzes, and I can’t help but shiver when I see Declan’s name.

I will enjoy punishing you tonight, little firecracker.

I laugh nervously, my heart racing.Oh God, what have I done?

Back in my room, I settle with a cup of hot tea and start going through the photos. Each image reveals fragments of a tragic story. I write down dates, times, and the list of suspects.

Was she killed on October 31st or November 1st?Two dates appear in the files.

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