Chapter 13
Declan
M y mind races. She can’t be the one leakinginformation; she just can’t. But what if she is? What if this is all part of some master plan to infiltrate us, to dig deeper? Fuck!
I’d kill them all. I’ll ki—no. I can’t kill her. Shit. Maybe I could lock her away forever. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“It’s not her.” Connor’s voice yanks me out of my spiralling thoughts; his eyes locked on mine.
My younger brother reads me like a damn book, and I hate it. “She hates all of this. I dug deep into her, Dec. She chose a one-bedroom apartment and a nine-to-five job over living in that mansion and never lifting a finger.” He shakes his head, star ing out at the road as Kian drives us back to the estate.
I know he’s right. There’s nothing about her that screams betrayal. But… there’s alw ays a but . If it is her, I’m already too attached. I’ve let her under my skin more than I want to admit. The thought of putting a bullet through her head makes my whole body shake.
My heart clenches like I’m taking blow after blow to the chest. I don’t know how I’ll handle it if it comes to that.
“But if it is her…” My voice cracks more than I intended. Kian glances at me, and I know they hear the fear in it.
“I’ll do it,” Kian grunts, his jaw tight. He’d do it for me, even though it’s the last thing he’d want. But I could never let him carry that weight—or Connor. This is on me. I let her in, let her get too close. I… I tasted her.
Damn it; she tasted like sunshine and sin; her voice, when she came, sounded like heaven splitting open inside me. The way her body tightened around my fingers, her warmth soaking my hand… I felt something I hadn’t in years.
Fucking hell.
Striding into the house, I try to keep it together, but the second I see her on the couch, it all goes up in flames. Those damn shorts, her pale legs catching the sunlight, making her look almost angelic. My heart skips a beat, a knot rising in my throat that I force back, shoving my feelings into the cave of my heart.
“Viviana,” I say, standing there, waiting for her to look at me. When her head turns, her fierce eyes pierce right into my soul.
“Declan.” She’s pure fire, pure sin, and it drives me insane.
“Why didn’t you run before the wedding?” I cut straight to it; I have no patience for games. It catches her off guard. She slams her book shut, her lips quivering with simmering anger I know too well.
“The contract.” She bites her bottom lip, the fire in her eyes intensifying as if she’s about to explode. “You spelled it out in detail: if I ran, you’d hunt me down and kill my entire family.” Her hands clutch the book so hard it starts to warp under her grip.
“And what if I kill them?” I press, testing her. “From what I hear, they made your life hell.” I cross my arms, trying to mask the tension in my fists. My pulse pounds loud and relentless, like a war drum in my chest.
She stands, chin lifted in defiance. “I would never intentionally hurt anyone, no matter what they’ve done to me, Declan.” Her voice is sharp, slicing straight through me. “I’m not like you.”
I smirk at her dig. Better to be like me than her bastard of a father, but I don’t say it. “Does that include not hurting me, Viviana?” I step in close, close enough to feel her breath hitch at the question. She swallows hard, her eyes flicking to my mouth and back again, her anger burning bright.
If she does that again, my restraint will go straight out the window.
“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have pulled the trigger that day at the warehouses.” Her eyes flick to my mouth again, and that’s it—every shred of control snaps. I grab her waist, pulling her hard against me. She inhales sharply, and I don’t hesitate.
I dive in, my tongue pressing past her parted lips in a fierce, unrestrained kiss. She tastes like strawberries and spices; why does she always taste so good?
My hand slides to the back of her neck, angling her head just right so I can deepen the kiss. My fingers dig into her sides as her hands
tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. A soft hum escapes her lips into my mouth, making a groan rise from deep inside me. Her heart
thunders against my chest, her scent wrapping around me, pulling me into a warmth I haven’t felt since…shit.
My hands slide down to her ass—perfect, round, irresistible—and I grab it hard. She hums again, grinding against my leg, and I claim her lips with even more intensity.
I want to devour her, to taste every inch of her, to feel her melting under me. My cock strains painfully against my zipper, begging for release. I need her; I need this; I need her out of my head.
A throat clears behind me. For fuck’s sake. One more interruption and my blue balls are going to be the death of me. Her face flushes deep red as she pulls away like I’ve suddenly turned radioactive. I reach for her, unwilling to let go, but Kian steps out of the corner, his expression grim.
“There was another attack,” he hisses, his teeth clenched. His eyes dart to Viviana, suspicion and anger swirling in his gaze. “Two men are dead.”
Damn it. So far, we haven’t had fatalities among our men.
“Where?” I demand, my eyes never leaving her. Her face betrays shock and worry, like a deer caught in headlights. There’s no way she knew about this—no way she could hide it that well.
“At Dubh Linn club,” Kian says, his voice low, his gaze locked on Viviana. He scans her face and body language, analysing, searching for even the smallest tell that she knows something.
“They attacked the club?” I straighten my shirt, adjusting my suit pants, waiting for my damn cock to calm down so I can move without feeling like I’ve got a hammer between my legs.
Kian nods, his expression grim.
“Get dressed, Vi. You’re coming with us,” I command. Her eyes shoot daggers at me, glaring from under those dark lashes.
“Now, Viviana. Or I’ll take you with us as you are.” My gaze sweeps over her, making sure she knows I mean it. She cringes, huffs, and, without another word, stalks off to her room.
“What the hell, Declan?” Connor mutters, his voice low as he rakes a hand through his hair.
“I need to see her reaction. She needs to face the reality of what’s happening. And maybe, just maybe, if she’s involved, she’ll show a hint of guilt, and I’ll catch it.” I let out a breath, unsure if this plan was as solid as I had hoped.
In the mirror, I make sure I look presentable—no more bulge, just a slight swelling in my lips from the way I kissed her. Licking my lips, I catch a faint trace of her sweetness lingering there, and my cock twitches in response. Steady, fella. There’s work to be done.
A few minutes later, Viviana comes down the stairs in jeans and a hoodie, her hair in a messy bun.
“I’m here.” Her voice falters for just a second, but I catch it. She’s nervous. Is it because of where we’re going, or is she afraid she’s been caught? Anger starts to simmer, but I push it down. I don’t need that right now.
As Kian drives us to the club, she keeps her gaze locked on the window.
“Two men died?” Her voice is laced with worry, her fingers fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves.
“Yes,” I reply curtly, not looking up from my phone as I scan the latest intel. The cops and firefighters are already on site.
When we arrive, chaos greets us. Flames are still licking at the remains, and two body bags lie near the ambulance. I glance at Viviana. She’s paler than usual, her eyes glistening with tears as she stares at the body bags. She takes a couple of shaky steps back, her breathing quickening. Is she having a panic attack?
Giovanni Morelli’s daughter must’ve seen worse than this, right? This is the girl with fiery eyes who nearly got us all killed by diving into a freezing river to escape me.
I stalk toward her and position myself in front of her, lifting her chin so her eyes lock on mine.
“Breathe, Viviana,” I say, keeping my voice calm and steady.
“Who would do something like this?” Tears pool at the corners of her eyes. “Didn’t they know there were men inside?”
“Whoever did this didn’t care. It’s a fucking war.” I try to keep the edge out of my voice.
“Do you know who might’ve done this?” I ask, searching her face, watching for even a flicker of guilt. But all I see is anger, fear, and sadness. Her nails dig into her sleeves, her breathing still erratic.
“Why the hell would I know that?!” she snaps, and there she is—the firecracker I love... or like.
“Maybe you heard something at your father’s place.” My voice is sharp but controlled, trying to keep her from exploding.
She stares at me for a beat too long. “Oh my God!” she yells, her hand cracking against my face. The slap is hard enough to turn my head. The sting burns hot. “You think I had something to do with this, don’t you?!”
I taste iron as I lick the corner of my mouth, smirking as I meet her fiery gaze. Firecracker’s got a strong right hand. “Did you?” I ask bluntly, stepping closer. “Did you have something to do with this? Or maybe your dear old dad?”
She swings again, but this time, I catch her wrist, using it to pull her close against my chest. “Now, now, that’s no way to treat your husband, especially here, firecracker.” I lift my other hand to her cheek, and she flinches, squeezing her eyes shut, bracing as if expecting a hit. Her body stiffens against me.
“I’m not going to hit you,” I whisper in her ear, my thumb brushing along her cheek. I search her face for guilt, for something, and then there it is—not guilt, but something else. She won’t meet my eyes, and it’s not embarrassment. Fear, maybe.
“I... I don’t have anything to do with this, I swear, Declan. I would never hurt anyone. Not like this.” She sounds sincere, but there’s a hint of something unsaid.
“Viviana,” I murmur, my mouth close to her ear. “If you’re lying, I swear I’ll make you scream for days, and it won’t be from pleasure.” I let go of her hand and step back.
She swallows hard, pulling her sleeves down to hide her hands as if that’ll make her secrets vanish. She looks nervous. Scared. But why? If she’s innocent, why does she look like a lost child? What the fuck is going on?
“Declan!” Connor shouts, standing with two men in black suits. I nod, glancing back at Viviana.
“Don’t do something stupid,” I warn, my voice harsher. She needs to understand this isn’t the place for wild ideas. She nods silently, her eyes locked on the flames.
“They say two men were here, not even twenty minutes before the place went up in flames, and guess what?” Connor’s smirk is mischievous, his chest puffing like a damn peacock’s.
I hold his gaze, my patience wearing thin.
“They spoke Italian.”
That gets my full attention. Italian—not Russian. My heart stops, feeling like a knife just sliced through it. The only Italians with any interest here are tied to the Morellis. Which means… damn it!
I glance at Viviana. She hasn’t moved, her face shadowed in the glow of the fire. She looks lost like someone else entirely—not the woman I married.
The two men with Connor work for the Bradys. They were outside, getting into their cars, when they saw two men walking past, talking casually.
Moments later, as they were driving away, they heard the explosion. There was nothing anyone could do; the two bouncers inside didn’t stand a chance.
Connor stays behind, talking to the cops, ensuring the report matches the story we want out there.
Kian stands with the Keffees, who arrived a few minutes ago.
Their eyes shift to Viviana, and Nolan Keffee breaks away, heading straight for her. He plants himself in front of her, his stance confrontational. Still, my fucking firecracker stands her ground, defiant as Lilith herself.
I can’t hear his words, but I know Nolan too well. Viviana’s chin tilts up, her hands closing into fists. She’s about to punch him.
I stride over, grabbing Nolan by his shirt and yanking him back before she breaks his face with that deadly right hand of hers. I threw him to the ground. “Careful, Nolan. If you ever come near my wife like that again, I’ll cut your damn head off.”
I step in front of Viviana, my own hands now clenched into fists. Control is slipping, the urge to snap his neck clawing at me.
Nolan scrambles to his feet, glaring as he takes a step closer, but his cousin grabs his arm. “Not here. Not now,” the man says, calm as if we’re discussing the fucking weather. Nearby, a few cops start to take notice.
“If any of you ever come close to my wife again, it will be the last thing you do,” I growl, my voice low and venomous. “I’ll make sure your next generations feel the pain I unleash on you.”
Both men stare at me, stunned. They should know better. I’m the leader of the Irish Consortium, and Viviana is my wife. No one speaks to her like that and lives another day.