Chapter 5
Declan
I lean against the door, the cool wood pressing into my back as I let out a slow breath. She is something else. Viviana Morelli is unlike any woman I’ve ever encountered—fearless, reckless, and entirely too confident for her own good.
As I walk away from the bedroom, I can’t shake the image of her standing there, trying to get under my skin with every look, every word. Damn it, she’s gotten to me. Not enough to lose control, but enough to keep me on edge—enough to make me wonder just how far she’s willing to go.
If she wants a war, she’ll get one. But it will be a war I’ll win.
I make my way to my study—a place where I can think clearly, where I can plot my next move without the distraction of her presence. My brothers are already there, and as soon as I enter, they both turn to me with knowing looks.
Kian leans back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “So, how’s the wedding night going?"
I shot him a look that could cut glass. “She’s testing me.”
Connor, still red around the ears, mutters under his breath, “She’s testing all of us.”
I can’t help but smirk. “She’s just getting started. But don’t worry, she’ll figure out soon enough that she’s in over her head.”
Connor shifts uncomfortably, clearly still rattled by his encounter with her. I’ll have to keep an eye on that. Viviana might see him as an easy target, but I’m not about to let her use my little brother as a pawn in whatever game she thinks she’s playing.
Kian, ever the strategist, chuckles. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I shrug, taking a seat and pouring myself a drink. “She’s entertaining; that’s the main reason she’s here. But she’ll learn soon enough.”
Connor frowns, his concern evident. “And if she doesn’t?”
I sip my whisky, then burn a convincing reminder that I’m in control, that I have the upper hand. “Then she’ll deal with the consequences. But trust me, she’ll come around. They always do.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Connor says, draining his glass in one go.
“She’s a menace. A good-looking one, at least. Right, lad?” Kian jokes, noticing Connor still trying to shake off the encounter.
“Leave him alone, mate,” I warn with a smirk.
“Come on, he knows I’m joking.” Kian claps Connor on the back. “Right, little brother?”
“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 thought the 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?”
She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Off-limits? That’s going to be a problem. I’m not very good with those.”
“Funny,” I reply, leaning closer until our faces are inches apart, “because I’m very good at enforcing them.”
She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she looks me square in the eye and smiles—a slow, deliberate smile that tells me she’s not going to make this easy. “Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”
Behind me, Kian snorts, clearly enjoying the show. Connor leans against the doorframe, trying to hide his amusement.
I’m done with the games.
I grab the glass she set down, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. All the while, I keep my eyes locked on hers, letting her see that I’m not someone to be played. Not by her. Not by anyone.
“You want to make yourself at home?” I set the glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Maybe you should move into my bedroom. After all, you’re my wife, and there’s nothing more ‘at home’ than sleeping with your dear husband.”
I walk around the desk, placing my hands on the chair’s arms, caging her in.
A blush creeps up her chest, but she holds my gaze unblinking. For a moment, the air between us feels thick enough to cut. Then, she shrugs. “You know, studies show the happiest couples have separate rooms.” Her tone is light, but there’s an edge to it that puts me on high alert.
I push off the chair, stepping back. “We’ll see about that. Now, get out of my chair, Viviana.”
She doesn’t move right away. Instead, she uncrosses her legs slowly, her black leggings clinging like a second skin. Every curve is on display as she stands with a casual grace that belies the storm brewing beneath her cool exterior.
As she walks past me, our shoulders brush. She pauses at the door.
“By the way, the whiskey’s not bad,” she says over her shoulder, then leaves without a backward glance.
As the door closes behind her, I exhale a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. She’s dangerous—that much is clear, not in the way of guns or knives but in the way she knows how to twist every situation to her advantage.
“Isn’t that one of your most expensive bottles?” Kian asks, grinning.
I shoot him a glare. “Yeah, it is.”
Connor chuckles softly. “And it wasn’t that bad?”
I shake my head, a grim smile tugging at my lips. “She’ll pay for that. Trust me.”
A couple of hours later, I’m still trying to push the image of her in my office out of my mind when the call comes through. One of the guards is practically hyperventilating on the other end.
“Sir, it’s… it’s Mrs. Callaghan. She’s in the gym.”
I narrow my eyes. “And?”
“She’s… uh, working out, sir. Just thought you should know.”
I can hear her grunts over the phone. Apparently, I’m not the only one on edge.
“And this is an issue because?” My patience is wearing thin.
“Well, Ricky… she kind of kicked his ass.”
I let out a laugh, unable to help myself. Fucking vixen.
Kian and Connor glance at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Viviana kicked Ricky’s ass in the gym,” I explain, shaking my head.
Kian grins. “I like her already.”
“Tell Ricky to move to patrol duty,” I instructed, amused despite myself. “No one touches her.”
The guard hesitates before replying, “Yes, sir.”
Hanging up, I run a hand through my hair. She’s relentless. Fuck!
Taking a deep breath, I focus on the matter at hand. “Any news on the Kozlovs?”
Kian’s tone shifts. “Nothing yet.”
“What?” I ask, catching the hesitation in his voice.
“There was a breach in the security cameras before the warehouse went up in flames. The guards didn’t see anyone who didn’t belong there—just them and one of Morelli’s men.”
I frown. “You think Giovanni would destroy his own property?”
“It’s not his anymore,” Kian reminds me. “It’s yours.”
Giovanni Morelli is controlling and manipulative. We need to keep an eye on him.