Page 8 of Taken By the Fake Fiancé

“I always love it when you wear your hair down. You didn't do so yesterday, that made me sad.”

My heart hammers in my chest.

"Yesterday?"

"Yes. I saw you yesterday, Felicity. I saw you the day before that as well. I see you every day; I always make sure I do," he says, moving back slightly to catch my eyes, his eyes twinkling as if he’s sharing an affectionate joke. “My day always gets better when I do.”

I shake my head at the young man.

"Allard, you cannot keep doing this. You cannot continue to stalk me like this. I do not like it."

"I will..." he counters. "And you know why?" he continues, thankfully dropping his hands from my hair, allowing me to breathe slightly better. "…because you're mine."

I shake my head, my heart sinks.

"I am not yours, Allard. We are not together anymore. We broke up a long time ago, you have to learn to accept that and move on, or else I am going to have to file a restraining order."

Allard's light blue eyes darken as he narrows them to slits.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Allard doesn't look normal and playful anymore. He looks every bit like he did the day I decided to leave him. The evening that he had attempted to get physical.

I do not realize that I’d continued to take several steps back until I feel the back of my legs hit the wall. Allard, who had continued to advance toward me, has now painfully grabbed my hands.

"You wouldn't fucking dare do that!" he growls, his face completely distorted by the rage that boils within him.

"I am going to do whatever I want! And you're going to learn to leave me alone."

Allard grips my bicep tighter so that I drop my handbag from the sudden pain that shoots up my arm from his nails digging into my flesh.

"I told you--" Allard begins to say as he leans forward against my lips.

"Leave her alone!" someone interrupts.

Allard and I turn toward the sound of the voice, I nearly slide down the floor from relief when the athletic form of Declan Gray comes into view.

"I was just having a discussion with my girlfriend," Allard says conversationally as the older man continues to walk toward us, jacket slung over his shoulder, briefcase in hand.

"That didn't look like any discussion to me."

"It was," Allard says with a chuckle as if he understands why Declan did not believe him. "Tell him, Honey," he says to me.

"I saw you grip her arm. Didn't your mother ever teach you to respect personal space and consent?"

"Felicity and I were in the middle of something, you'd better stay the hell out of this."

Declan is close enough for me to witness him grinding his teeth, his smooth jaw visibly works as he does. Declan has always, since he began to work side by side with his father, stayed in his lane. He didn't do much interacting with anyone and avoided getting drinks with the others. I had never witnessed him show any emotion until now.

He looks like he's holding himself back from grabbing Allard and hurling him out of the building. I blink at the sight of him in this mood, which I find in the deepest recesses of my brain to be hot.

"The only one who will be staying the hell out of this building is you. If you don't get the fuck out of here, I am going to throw you out the nearest window and blame it on the full bottle of whisky I have downed."

Allard, who now looks alarmed at the barely suppressed fury in the depths of Declan's eyes, begins to turn around, hands held up in the universal signal of surrender.

"Chill man," he says as he begins to move toward the elevator.

"Hey!" Declan barks, not more than a second later. Allard stops abruptly and whirls around, even though he tries to look tough, I can tell that he's about to shit his pants. "If I ever find you anywhere near this building, you're not going to leave with your bones intact. It's not a threat," Declan mutters, his voice low and smooth, carrying a certain power and authority that causes a strange shiver to chase up and down my spine. "It's a promise.”

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