Chapter 11
Viviana
I sit at the massive table, my fingers tapping lightly on the polished wood as I wait. The sharp click of heels on marble echoes down the hall, growing louder with each step. I draw in a deep breath, steeling myself. This lunch wasn’t my idea. Silvana decided to come on her own, and the thought of disappointing my father by being the so-called bad sister wasn’t worth the trouble.
She enters with her usual poise, wearing a yellow sundress and shorter heels than I’d expect. Her hair is swept into a braid, an unusual touch for her. She looks perfect, of course—she always does—but there’s something different about her today. The smile on her face seems almost… genuine. It’s unsettling.
“Viviana,” she says, arms outstretched as if this is some family reunion. I stand, returning her hug reluctantly, still trying to process the sudden warmth. What the hell is going on?
“Declan isn’t joining us?” she asks, her eyes flicking to the two plates on the table.
“No, he had work to do,” I reply evenly, though the heat creeping into my cheeks betrays me. The memory of this morning rushes back unbidden, and I press my legs together under the table, trying to shake it off.
Her gaze lingers on me, sharp yet oddly soft. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—concern? “How have you been, Viv? I can’t imagine… you, of all people, in this situation.”
I study her face, searching for signs of the sister I know—the one who always kept me at arm’s length, who never missed a chance to remind me of my place. But there’s no hint of malice today. She actually looks worried.
“I’ve been fine,” I say curtly, though every instinct screams at me to keep my guard up. There’s no way I’m telling her about last night, about the escape attempt or Declan’s relentless presence.
“I’m sorry about all of this,” she murmurs, her tone unexpectedly sincere. “I did everything to make Declan choose me. I never thought he’d pull you into it. Dad even told him not to choose you. But…” She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “But he just couldn’t resist, could he?”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was pity or guilt in her voice. Both possibilities unnerve me.
“Dad told him not to choose me?” I keep my gaze locked on her, searching for a lie, but she meets my eyes without flinching.
“Yes,” she says simply, cutting into her food with mechanical precision. “But Declan didn’t care.”
She’s calm, too calm as if she isn’t dropping a bombshell into the middle of the table.
“You need to be careful, Vi,” she continues, her voice lowering. “You can’t trust the Callaghans. They only look out for themselves, and to them, you’re just…” She pauses, her eyes narrowing. “Collateral.”
I sit back, keeping my expression neutral. “I’m well aware,” I say flatly. “But I’m not some helpless pawn, Silvana.”
Her grip tightens on my hand, startling me. “Then make them trust you, Viviana. You’re the smartest woman I know. Use that. Use whatever you can.”
Her sudden fierceness is almost jarring, her usual aloof demeanour replaced by something raw and urgent.
I laugh, though it carries a bitter edge. “I doubt Declan wants an obedient wife,” I say, my voice laced with sarcasm.
Silvana leans back, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Obedient? No. But I saw how he looked at you at the wedding. He wants you, Viv.” Her eyes gleam with something I can’t quite place—envy, perhaps? “Think about it.”
Silvana’s suggestion, laced with innuendo, makes me recoil slightly. Is this what she would have done if Declan had chosen her?
I may flirt, may use my body to unnerve and manipulate, but actually sleeping with him? The thought sends a jolt through me. This morning was different—raw, unguarded. A moment born from the chaos of the night before.
The bitterness of it sits heavy on my tongue.
An hour slips by in polite conversation, Silvana prying for details about my time here, about the Callaghan brothers and their habits. Her curiosity feels invasive, and I realize with growing frustration how little I know about the inner workings of this house. I give her half-truths, but each answer leaves me feeling hollow.
Then they arrive.
Declan strides into the room, flanked by Connor and Kian, their collective presence like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. The tailored black suits cling to them, emphasizing strength that barely seems contained. For the first time, I let myself really look at them. Each one exudes power and menace, their confidence electrifying the air like static.
Silvana’s gaze flicks to them, her lips curving into a practised, honeyed smile. Declan’s eyes lock on her, studying her face with a searing intensity that ignites a low simmer in my chest. A pang of jealousy claws its way to the surface.
“Silvana is just leaving.” I rise, voice clipped, trying to force normalcy into my tone. His gaze flicks to me, brief but sharp, before returning to her. My pulse pounds louder with each second that stretches between themDeclan follows us to the door, his presence looming. The moment Silvana’s black Mercedes pulls away, I can’t contain the words that burst from me.
“You should’ve chosen her,” I snap, the accusation sharper than I intended.
I don’t wait for his reaction, turning on my heel and striding briskly back into the foyer. I don’t make it far. His hand catches my waist, spinning me around and pinning me to the wall.
The warmth of his chest presses into me, solid and overwhelming. His scent—a heady mix of woodsy cologne and whisky—floods my senses, pulling me into the memory of this morning.
“Jealous, firecracker?” His voice is low, teasing, laced with danger. His breath brushes my neck, and I shiver, the tingling sensation travelling down my spine. “How was your bath this morning?” His lips hover near my ear, his hips pressing forward.
I feel him—hard—and my breath falters.
A wicked smirk curls on his lips. “Use your words, Viviana.” His teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath my ear, and a low groan rumbles in his chest as I can’t stop the shudder that overtakes me.
“It was…” I start, my voice barely a whisper, but he doesn’t let me finish.
His lips crash into mine, fierce and consuming. I taste whisky, taste him , as his tongue presses inside, demanding and relentless. A soft hum escapes me, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His heat surrounds me, his grip tight on my thigh as he lifts it to his hip.
“Fuck, Vi,” he breathes against my mouth. His voice is rough and strained, and it sends a fresh wave of heat through me. His thigh presses between mine, and I can’t help the way my body reacts, grinding softly against him. The friction is torturous, deliciously teasing.
“Declan…” His name leaves my lips in a breathless plea.
His smirk grows wicked, his hands digging into my back as he leans in, his movements calculated, predatory.
“Ahm, Dec…” A voice interrupts, shattering the moment as a glass dropped on the tile. “The Keeffes are here.”
Declan growls, the sound low and primal, vibrating against me. “Fucking hell,” he mutters. Straightening, he adjusts his jacket, sparing a glance at the faint mark of my arousal on his pants. His smirk sharpens, predatory.
“A little souvenir, firecracker?” His hand slides to my throat, thumb tilting my chin up. His lips graze my ear, his whisper dripping with menace. “I’m fucking you tonight.”
With a final nip at my earlobe, he steps back, smoothing his hair.
In the quiet of my room, I can still feel his touch. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm, my mind caught between disbelief and anticipation.
Could he be serious? The look in his eyes, the way his hands claimed me—it felt anything but playful.
Down the hall, raised voices echo from Declan’s office. I freeze, straining to listen.
“How the hell is this even possible?” Declan’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and unforgiving.
“We… we don’t know, Dec. They’re showing up out of nowhere.” The other voice trembles, tinged with fear.
“Two attacks in a week?” Declan’s fury rises, his tone colder, deadlier than I’ve ever heard.
“It has to be—”
“Not here,” Declan snaps, cutting him off. His voice drops, low and dangerous.
It has to be who? A chill creeps through me, and questions swirl in my mind.
The scrape of chairs signals the meeting’s end. Panic lances through me as I slip away, hurrying back to my room. I lock the door behind me, twisting the key and jamming it in place.
I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Another attack. Declan is furious. Does he think my family is behind this? No—if he did, Giovanni wouldn’t still be breathing.
I take a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts, as exhaustion pulls me under.
But the peace doesn’t last. A sudden jolt pulls me from sleep as someone tries the door handle, twisting it repeatedly. “Viviana, open the door.” Declan’s voice is firm and calm, but beneath it, there’s a primal edge that sends a shiver down my spine.
“No,” I call back, forcing confidence into my voice, even as my hands tremble. “Go to your room. I’m staying here tonight.”
The doorknob stops moving. Silence stretches on the other side of the door, so thick I can almost hear my heartbeat echoing in it. Then he speaks again, softer yet more menacing. “Firecracker, you do know a locked door isn’t going to keep me out of your room, right?”
I hesitate, weighing my options and fighting the urge to unlock the door. “Just leave me alone, Declan,” I say, trying to steady my voice.
A dark, amused chuckle rumbles from the other side of the door. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. I release a breath, thinking maybe he’s gone.
Then, a thunderous crack splinters through the air as the door bursts open, wood shards flying. Declan strides in, unflinching, his eyes locked on me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless.
He crosses the room in seconds, his powerful frame looming over me as I sit frozen on the bed. He grips my throat, pushing my back into the mattress, his thumb pressing against my pulse. I feel some pressure, not enough to cut off my air but enough to make my insides twist and turn.
“There’s no fucking door that will keep me away from my wife,” he bites out, his voice rough with a hint of amusement.
“How much money have you spent on doors?” My voice is filled with amusement as I attempt to mask the arousal already forming in my pussy. Still, a shiver betrays me as his presence presses over me.
He only smiles, but it’s not a friendly one; it’s something far darker, something that promises I’m at his mercy.
He releases my throat, and his hand trails slowly down my sides, his fingertips skimming my skin with a possessive deliberation that makes my breath hitch. His fingers drift along the curve of my waist, grazing the side of my breast, then pressing firmly into my hip, claiming it as he leans close, his mouth hovering by my neck.
He inhales deeply, and a low, rough whisper slips out. “You smell so fucking good, firecracker.”
My pulse races as his hand glides lower, tracing circles on my thigh, his touch achingly slow. I bite my lip, trying to stifle any reaction, trying not to show just how much I want this, but my body betrays me.
“You… you need to stop,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, but he ignores me entirely. His lips brush my neck as he kisses it, then bites down gently, sending a thrill down my spine.
His fingers find the edge of my panties, and with deliberate slowness, he slides the fabric aside, his eyes meeting mine as a wicked smirk tugs at his lips. His finger brushes against my lower lips, sliding easily to my clit as he feels my wetness, and his gaze darkens.
“So, I need to stop, hmm?” His tone is thick with satisfaction as he commands softly, “Don’t move.”
A sharp wave of anticipation coils in my stomach as he lowers himself, his mouth leaving a heated trail along my skin, his breaths hot against me. My control slips: I need him, but there’s no way I’ll beg.
Settling between my legs, he looks up at me, his eyes gleaming with excitement as his hands press my thighs apart. His warm breath hovers, teasing, and just before I can catch my breath, he dips his head, his tongue grazing over my sensitive flesh, sending a jolt through me.
“Fuck, Vi,” he breathes against me, his voice reverent, almost hungry, as he licks me from my clit to the entrance, each touch of his tongue driving me further to the edge, leaving me aching, desperate, and utterly consumed by him.
My hands dart to his messy, dark hair. He tilts his face up, still licking me, a smirk appearing in his eyes. I press his head down; the hell with his eyes—I want his tongue to fuck me!
He devours me, his tongue sliding inside me, and my back arches instinctively. He digs his fingers into my thighs, keeping me in place.
“You taste so fucking good, Viviana.”
I’m already fighting for my life here, and this fucker moves his tongue to my clit as he slides one of his thick fingers inside me.
I feel my walls stretching; he pumps his finger in and out. I can feel my warm arousal dripping into him. He curls his finger, hitting something inside me I didn’t even know existed, curling my toes. I cry out.
He moves his finger faster.
“Do you want more?” His voice is hoarse, but before I can answer, he adds another finger, pumping them in and out while his tongue sucks and licks my clit. I can’t hold it. My entire body feels out of control, trembling, every muscle drawn tight as the pressure mounts—an unbearable sweetness teetering on the edge of release.
“Fuck, Declan.” My body tenses, caught in a wave that crests higher, tighter, each pulse bringing me closer to a breaking point I can’t resist. My breath catches, then shatters in a soft hum, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs. Every nerve feels alight, as if the skin itself is too sensitive, too raw to contain it. I cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders as a white-hot sensation coils low in my belly, tightening until it explodes through me, leaving me trembling and breathless, senses dulled and heightened all at once.
He is the fucking devil.