Chapter 28
Viviana
Ding.
Alek : Now the question is, how can I be sure I can trust you .
Right. I knew this was coming. He knows what he did. He knows how hard it was for me after that night. Selma told me to go to the cops, said it was rape. But in my mind, I was to blame—part of me still thinks that.
But the question now is, what can I do to make him believe me? I already gave him intel about the shipments and the warehouse, and there’s no way I’m killing anyone.
I glance at Declan, who’s glued to his phone, completely ignoring me.
“Now what?” I cross my arms, irritation bubbling over.
“You’re asking me?” he smirks without looking up. “I thought you said you’d deal with him.”
I swear to God, one day, I’ll beat that smirk off his face with a broom.
“You psychos think like him, I might add!” I snap, pacing the room. Damn it, Viviana, think. There has to be a way.
Declan doesn’t even look up.
“I got it,” I mutter, a smirk tugging at my lips as an idea forms.
I grab my phone and start typing, ignoring Flynn, who stands behind me, watching with far too much interest.
“Declan,” Flynn calls out, amusement lacing his voice.
Before I can react, a shadow looms over me, and my phone is snatched from my hand.
“I’ll let my body show you,” Declan reads aloud through gritted teeth, his eyes darting to mine.
I burst out laughing.
“What the fuck, Viviana?” He towers over me, his face so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile. “Now I have your attention.”
I grab his hand, which is still clutching my phone like it’s the only thing tethering him to control and point to the screen.
“Look who I’m sending it to,” I say with a grin.
His eyes flick to the screen before narrowing into a glare.
“Selma,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Having fun, are we firecracker?”
I chuckle, unable to help myself. “I love seeing you all possessive and jealous.”
His hand darts to my neck, fingers curling in a teasing grip.
“Brat,” he rasps, his lips brushing mine.
The storm of fire shooting from my neck to my core makes me clench my thighs, desperate to ignore the heat pooling between them.
And then it hits me.
“Wait,” I say suddenly, turning to Flynn. “How good of an actor are you?”
Flynn’s grin widens. “Pretty good. What do you have in mind, sweetheart?”
Declan releases my neck, his eyes narrowing. “Talk, firecracker,” he says, leaning into the wall, arms crossed. My traitorous body reacts again.
Shaking my head, I try to focus.
“Alek killed Nolan,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maybe I can pretend to hurt Flynn—somewhere his informants might see it.”
“You want to kill me? Already?” Flynn grins, lounging in his chair like a devil king, swirling amber liquid in his glass. “I can make that happen.”
Declan is too quiet. That’s never good.
“But we need to make it so you aren’t caught,” Declan finally says, his voice measured. “But in a way that makes Alek believe it was you.”
Flynn nods, and I can practically see their minds working. Connor pulls out maps of the docks, pointing and murmuring something to Flynn.
I step back into the hallway and quickly text Alek:
I may have an idea. Just give me some time. I’m not as connected as you are.
Am I really doing this? Pretend to kill Flynn? What if the Irish Consortium finds out and believes I did it? Flynn is their second in command.
“Vi.”
Declan’s voice pulls me back to reality. I don’t even notice him standing next to me until he says my name, his tone laced with concern.
“I think we’ve got it.”
I follow him back into the office, where the guys look entirely too calm—sitting, drinking, and far too amused. I want to shake them or hit them with a keyboard. How can they be this relaxed?
“There’s no way you’re shooting anyone or blowing anything up, so we’ll do this with more…” Declan pauses, searching for the right word. He grins. “Finesse.”
It’s smart. If Alek’s done any digging, he knows I wouldn’t kill someone unless necessary—like those men in the Callaghan penthouse. Shooting an unarmed man like Flynn would be nearly impossible for me. Alek likely knows I’m alone, with no one to rely on to do the killing for me.
“Poison,” Connor says, his calm voice cutting through the room.
My eyebrows shoot up.
“Enough to make Flynn have a reaction and look dead without actually killing him,” Connor explains.
“His men will see everything happen,” Declan says. “We’ll take him to our clinic, where we can control the narrative. He’ll be in a fake coma until Alek feels safe enough to come out of hiding. We’ll make sure the news spreads.”
He finishes, locking eyes with me.
“But if we poison him here, won’t the other families think I did it?” I ask, still trying to process this insane plan.
“That’s why we’ll do it at one of Flynn’s clubs tomorrow night,” Connor replies, typing furiously on his laptop.
“Wait, we’re not actually going to poison him, right?” I glance at Flynn, who looks so relaxed he could be on vacation.
“Of course you are,” Flynn says, grinning. “Don’t worry—we’ll use one with an antidote.”
“No,” I say, my voice shaking. My hands feel icy like I’ve been clutching snow. “We can’t. It’s too risky.” I shake my head, panic bubbling inside me. This is madness. What if the antidote fails? What if he dies?
“He’ll be fine,” Declan reassures me, but my mind spins with worst-case scenarios.
“I’ll be fine,” Flynn says, walking over to me. His hand lands on my shoulder, steady and warm. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” He grimaces.
“You’ve been poisoned before?” I gape at his nonchalant tone.
“We had some wild nights about a decade ago,” he says, sharing a knowing look with Declan.
“It’s not poison,” Connor explains, his calm voice like ice. “It’s a mixture of plants that makes you pass out and slows your heart rate until it’s nearly undetectable. You’ll look dead.”
“You’ll put it in Flynn’s drink,” Declan continues, his voice steady. “Just in case someone’s watching. We must be careful. We’ve got one shot to make Alek believe this.”
I nod, my breathing hitching. One shot. If I mess this up, if any of us do, Alek will come for me—for all of us.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper, my phone buzzing in my pocket.
I’ll wait, little dove.
“Dove?” Declan frowns as I let out a nervous laugh, my stomach turning and I feel the bile rising.
He grabs my arm. “About that one-night stand…” He pulls me into the hallway, and I hear Flynn’s amused whisper behind us.
“Close the fucking door!” Connor yells. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Declan shoves the bedroom door open, pushing me inside and pinning me against the wall. His intoxicating scent surrounds me.
“How did it happen?” His body tenses, his hand sliding along my back, leaving shivers in its wake. He kisses the curve of my neck, his lips brushing my collarbone, and my knees threaten to buckle.
“It’s—” I stammer. “Not important.”
“Oh, but it is, firecracker,” he murmurs, his tone husky. “Did he make you come?” His grip tightens on my hips, his fingers tracing torturous circles.
“Declan—”
“Did you scream his fucking name?” His voice roughens, demanding.
“No,” I whimper as his teeth sink into my shoulder.
“Did you suck him?” His lips graze mine, his tongue flicking over my bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.
“I didn’t,” I whisper, trembling. His presence overwhelms me—hard, masculine, and unrelenting.
“Did he lick your cunt?” His hand works at my jeans with precision, the other tugging my hair, forcing me to meet his intense gaze.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, shrinking under his stare.
He grunts, displeased. “Did he fuck you until you came?”
“Declan,” I press my palms to his chest, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. “I don’t want to talk about that nig—”
Before I can finish, he grabs my wrists with one hand, pinning them above my head against the cold wall. His other hand grips my jaw, angling my face upward, leaving me no escape from his burning eyes.
“So, he made you come. What else did he make you do?” His voice is low, rough, vibrating against my skin. “Did he make you feel like I do?”
I writhe in his grip, my breath hitching as his body presses into mine, firm and unyielding.
“Declan,” I whisper, but his hold tightens, silencing me.
“Tell me,” He orders, his lips brushing against mine, refusing to give me what I crave.
“He’s nothing like you, Declan,” I say, my voice breaking. “No man ever is, or ever will be.”
He stops, glaring at me. “What?”
I shake my head, confused by his question. “What do you mean?”
His demeanour shifts, and he takes a step back, releasing my arms. “That look—I know that look, Viviana. What the fuck happened with Alek?” His voice isn’t accusing; it’s filled with pain, his hands clenched into fists.
“Nothing.” I look down, unable to face this now.
“That motherfucker,” Declan snarls, punching the mirror on the wall. Shards of glass scatter everywhere.
“Declan, please don’t do this. I can’t handle it—not now, not again.” My breathing quickens, a tornado of emotions swirling inside me. If I let it out, I’ll break.
He turns to face me, and a shiver runs through me, heat pooling low in my stomach. His thumb traces my jawline, slow and deliberate, before sliding down my neck. My skin burns under his touch.
“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs, whispering against my ear.
I pull him closer, my voice low and steady. “Make me come, Declan.” He’s the only man I want, the only one who can make me forget everything else.
His warm breath brushes my neck, sending goosebumps down my spine. “Fuck, are you sure?” His voice is sweet, laced with desire, as he kisses me and pins my wrists against the wall with one hand.
I tug against his grip, but he holds me firmly in place. His free hand glides down my body, tracing the curve of my waist before stopping at the waistband of my jeans.
“Declan,” I breathe out, my voice trembling with need and frustration.
He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “I’m here, firecracker. Let go.”
His fingers slip just beneath the fabric, teasing, igniting sparks of anticipation through my entire body—then he stops.
“You want me to fuck you?” he mocks, his tone sharp. His thumb brushes the edge of my underwear, making me arch into him involuntarily.
“Please,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He pulls back just enough for me to feel the absence of his touch. His smirk deepens as he watches me squirm. I groan in frustration, uncaring if I look desperate. I grind against his leg, but he steps away, his smirk unrelenting.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice firm and unyielding. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”
His hand drifts away entirely, leaving me panting, my body screaming for more. Leaning in one last time, his lips graze my ear.
“You’ll wait, firecracker,” he murmurs, his tone commanding.
He releases my wrists, stepping back just enough to leave me trembling.
“Asshole,” I snap, my voice sharp with defiance.
Declan laughs darkly, his voice rough like distant thunder before a storm. “Beg me,” he demands, the dominance in his tone making me crawl up the walls.
He stands there, watching me, his muscles taut and his veins pulsing. Rolling his shoulders, he cracks his neck, fighting to maintain control. He wants this as much as I do, but he revels in making me beg.
I’m not the type to beg for a man, especially not one with an ego as massive as Declan’s. But right now? I’d roll over and let him pet me like a kitten.
Dropping to my knees, I crawl toward him, my breaths shallow. His eyes darken with desire, the heat in them intensifying with every second.
When I reach him, his hand wraps around my arm, pulling me up effortlessly and turning me toward the desk.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his words sending a rush of heat through me.
His hands move quickly, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding them down. He wastes no time; his grip on my hips is firm, his actions controlled but anything but gentle.
“Fuck, Viviana,” he groans, his voice guttural, thick with restraint.
I feel his thick tip at my entrance, my body aching for him. He grabs my hips, pulling me back hard, forcing me to grip the edge of the desk to stay upright. My back arches under his weight as he takes me completely.
Each stroke sends shockwaves through my body, a mix of raw pleasure and overwhelming intensity.
“Declan, harder,” I beg, my voice breaking.
He grunts, his movements animalistic, driving into me with such force that my eyes roll back. The way his cock stretches me is mind-numbing, every thrust unravelling me.
“Come on my cock, Viviana. I want to feel you squeeze the fuck out of me,” he growls, his voice thick with need.
My legs quake at his filthy words, and my fingers dig into the desk as heat burns through my core. When he pinches my clit, control slips away entirely. Wave after wave crashes over me, dragging me under as my body screams in pleasure. He doesn’t relent, thrusting nonstop, rolling his hips and drawing out my release. His grip tightens, his moans and pants matching mine.
“Now it’s my turn,” Declan growls, his voice rough and commanding.
He doesn’t slow. His rhythm grows deeper, harder, leaving me clutching the desk for support. “I want to feel you come inside me, Declan,” I whisper, my voice shaky and raw. That’s all it takes to snap the last thread of his control.
His hand flies to my throat and he grips it tightly, almost cutting my air, his other hand grabs my hips, fingers pressing into my skin as his movements become frantic and desperate. A guttural groan escapes him, raw and animalistic, as he lets go. I feel him release, his body tensing and trembling against mine.
“Fucking hell, Viviana,” he rasps, his breath hot against my ear as he leans into me, pressing me against the desk.
His lips brush my neck, his voice dropping lower. “No man will ever touch you—not as long as I’m alive.”