Chapter 29
Declan
T he club is packed, with hundreds of bodies moving to the rhythm of the pounding beat. This is one of Flynn’s first clubs, his so-called baby. Stone walls surround us, dark wood covering the floors and stairs. Two bars sit on either side, framing the dance floor in the centre.
We head to the VIP balcony, a booth with a dark oak table and black velvet chairs. The dim lighting makes it perfect for the kind of business deals this place thrives on. I nod to a few businessmen nearby, their gazes lingering on Viviana.
My firecracker wears a short black dress with a corset that highlights her every curve. Her long hair cascades down her back, and all I can think about is gripping it in my fists, bending her over this table, and fucking her until her screams drown out the music.
My jaw clenches as I catch men staring, their eyes undressing her. Not tonight. Tonight is too important for me to lose my shit.
Flynn sits first, and Viviana slides in between us. Drinks are ordered, and conversation flows. I watch her from the corner of my eye. Her gaze is fixed on the dance floor, her hands fidgeting beneath the table.
But her face?
It’s a perfect mask of confidence—fiery and untouchable. Her look says she doesn’t want to be here. If Alek’s men are watching—and I know they are—they’ll think she’s pissed, maybe even forced to come. Exactly the image we need.
Connor arrives with Kian, and as they take their seats, the show begins. I nurse glass after glass of what looks like whiskey but isn’t. Pretending to be drunk, I drape an arm around Viviana’s shoulders, pulling her close for a kiss.
She scowls, shoving me away. “Don’t!” she snaps, her voice sharp with disdain.
I laugh loud enough to draw attention. “Always the same cold bitch,” I taunt as she stands, glaring at Flynn.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she snaps, grabbing her purse.
“You better get your ass back here,” I warn, leaning back in my seat, bitch,” I mutter, finishing the rest of my fake whiskey in one gulp.
Even though it’s all an act, the words weigh heavy. Talking to her like this—especially in front of these VIPs—makes me feel like shit. The women glare at me like I just kicked a puppy while some men look at Viviana with pity.
“Women, can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em, eh mate?” Flynn laughs, raising his glass. I join him.
We should be up for an Oscar.
Connor and Kian invite a couple of women to the table—the usual attention-seekers hoping to overhear something worth selling. Tonight, we’re betting the highest bidder will be Koslov. Viviana returns with the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.
Good girl.
“Drinks,” she announces as the waiter delivers fresh glasses. Flynn sticks to bourbon while Connor, Kian, and I sip whiskey. Flynn’s glass is spiked, just as planned. We agreed on small sips, but Flynn, being Flynn, downs half his drink. Moments later, he starts coughing—hard. His hands clutch his chest as foam spills from his mouth.
“Oh my God!” one of the women screams as Flynn’s men rush to him. I shove Viviana aside, nearly knocking her over in the chaos.
We haul Flynn up, dragging him toward the VIP back door as shouts of “Poison!” ripple through the crowd. Drinks spill, people scramble—it’s the perfect cover.
“What the fuck happened?” Flynn’s right-hand man demands.
“Someone poisoned him,” Connor yells, jumping into the driver’s seat.
“We’re taking him to the estate,” I bark, daring anyone to object. Flynn’s men follow without question. Everyone knows the estate clinic is the best—no cops, no questions, no mercy for whoever did this.
As I climb into the car, I glance back and see Kian on the club’s stairs. He shrugs, and my stomach drops, Viviana.
Connor speeds off, and I realize I’ve lost sight of Viviana in the chaos. She is supposed to follow us. Goddamnit!
I look back; Flynn is down, looking dead, drooling foam out of his mouth. This shit is good! I turn back now that we are alone in the car and give him the antidote, not an antidote, just something to bring him back. I wait, holding my fucking breath until he begins to cough, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Did it work?” he rasps, his face gaining some colour.
“Maybe too well,” I grunt, my mind racing.
Where the fuck is Viviana? Every part of me wants to turn around and find her. But if Alek’s men have her, she’s only safe if they think she did this.
Fuck.
Arriving at the estate, Flynn’s men, that follow behind us, rush to the car while Flynn plays dead like a fucking dog. We rush him to the clinic where our trusted doctor is waiting, ordering his men not to follow. They nod, and I tell them to wait in the living room.
My phone dings.
I’m safe.
It’s from Viviana’s burner phone; the one Connor got her this morning in case she needed to contact any of us. Though she says she’s safe, it doesn’t ease my worries. I need to find her.
Kian texts, I have her.
My entire body slumps against the wall. Connor stares at me, and I barely catch my breath. “Kian has her,” I say.
I won’t do something like this again putting her at risk is fucking stupid. I swear I’ll burn the Irish Consortium and the Russians to the ground if anything happens to her.
The doctor enters, and I signal him to give his speech in the living room so Flynn’s men can hear. In case one of them is working with Alek, Flynn will pretend to be in a coma until Alek makes his move, which we hope is soon. I’m done with this shit.
I head upstairs, and halfway up, I see Viviana on the landing, tears streaking down her face, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. I clench my hands at my sides, tension seizing my body as I know exactly why she looks like that.
“Did he touch you?” I grunt when I reach her. She shakes her head, but I don’t believe her. I resist the urge to touch her, afraid of triggering something, but she grabs my hand and pulls me closer, her scent hitting me like a stone.
“I’m fine; nothing happened, Declan,” she murmurs into my shirt. I hold her, feeling her relax, melting into my embrace. I kiss her head and inhale deeply.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I whisper. “I would burn the fucking world to find you, Viviana.”
She looks up at me, her frown deepening. “Promise me you’ll never do what you did after,” she pauses, and I know what’s coming. “After… just promise me.”
I take her chin with my fingers, forcing her to meet my gaze. My muscles tighten as I tower over her, my lips nearly brushing hers. Our breaths dance together.
“You didn’t marry the hero; you married the fucking villain. I would torture and kill every living soul on this earth for you,” my voice drops an octave, feral, filled with rage at the thought of losing her.
She inhales, and before she can react, I kiss her. I pull her closer, our heartbeats syncing. Her cheeks flush as my tongue slips past her soft lips, coaxing a quiet hum from her that shoots straight through me. My body screams to take her right here on these fucking stairs.
Still holding her, I grip her shoulders and stare into her eyes. “What happened?” My voice is low and rough, fighting for control, not wanting to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my room.
She tries to push me away, but I stand firm, not budging. She exhales deeply. “A guy grabbed my arm,” she begins, voice steady but soft. “He dragged me to the corner of the bar, handed me a phone. It was Alek.” She swallows hard.
“And?” I urge, my eyes locked on hers.
“He asked if I planned to kill him,” she says, shaking her head. “I knew he wouldn’t believe me. He knows I wouldn’t kill a man in cold blood, so I told him I’d done enough for him to see how deep I could go in the Irish Consortium, but if he wanted any of you dead, I’d give him the info—but he’d have to kill you himself.” She looks down, avoiding my gaze. Her hands twist together. “That’s when he said we need to meet.”
Finally, Fucking hell.
Relief and rage burn through me, at war in my chest. I nod slowly, trying to mask the storm inside. “Don’t worry,” I murmur, leaning close to her ear. “When he sets the time and place, this will all be over. I promise.”
I scoop her into my arms, her fingers tangling in my hair as she presses a kiss to my temple.
Yeah, I need to fuck her. Now. The tension in my chest, the fire in my veins, I need her to burn it out of me. I look down at her beautiful face, her eyes glazed with lust. Her hand travels around my chest, and I feel goosebumps rise, my cock growing harder. I slam the door open, making the windows shake.
I put her down, and she smiles. Turning, she walks slowly to the desk, her body swaying. She’s a fucking sight. Her hands move to the zipper at her side, and as she pulls it down, the dress falls to the floor, revealing her curves, a tiny string the only thing covering her beautiful round ass.
I don’t move, rolling my sleeves up. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms, enjoying the show. She unhooks her bra, one strap at a time, and I clench my hands to keep myself from stalking to her and pull one of those beautiful hard peaks into my mouth. I shift slightly to accommodate the painful bulge in my zipper.
Viviana’s body was made for me, every inch of her setting me on fire, making me crave her more than I should. Every time I remember how she clenches around me; I want to devour her completely.
Pre-cum drips onto my slacks as she turns her back to me, leaning down, bending to the floor while sliding off that little piece of fabric she calls panties. I see every inch of her glistening with arousal. Fuck me.
Leaning on the desk, she spreads her legs and turns her head just enough to meet my gaze through her lashes. “What are you waiting for?” Her voice is laced with honey. I can’t stop the smirk curling my lips.
I stalk toward her, unbuckling my belt and biting my lip as the urge to strike her with it rises in my chest. She’s not ready for that—yet I remind myself. But as if she can read my thoughts, she tilts her head, eyes locked on the belt and licks her lips. My head tilts in response, gauging her expression.
“Tell me what you want, Viviana,” I demand, my voice dominant as my hand caresses the belt.
Her devilish smile meets my stare, eyes still glued to the belt. “I want to be punished,” she purrs.
My eyebrow arches. “Punished? For what?” I stop in my tracks.
“For what I did today,” she says, her voice cracking just enough for me to catch it. Flynn, that’s why she thinks she needs to be punished—she’s still struggling, even though this was all planned.
I shake my head. “Firecracker,” I grunt, unbuttoning my shirt. My body tenses with each step toward her. “I will not punish you for that.” That’s not how these punishments work.
Her little sigh sends a shiver through me. I know she needs this. “But” I pause, positioning myself behind her, rubbing my hard cock against her ass, “I will punish you for thinking that.” I caress her ass cheek, and before she can respond, I bring the belt down—not too hard, just enough to sting. I’m not an asshole.
She wants a physical release. I’ll give her that, but I won’t break her. I won’t push her past what she can handle. Her whimper makes my cock strain against the fabric, and I unzip my fly, freeing it. It greets her beautiful ass as I rub the crown against her skin, leaving a trail of pre-cum.
I raise the belt and strike again, leaving a beautiful oval mark on her cheek. She cries out, a tear sliding down her flushed face, but at the same time, she grinds against me. My cock glides through her wetness as I position myself at her entrance. She steadies herself, hands gripping the oak desk.
“Declan, I…” she whispers.
“I know, Vi. I fucking know,” I grunt, thrusting into her hard. Her back arches beautifully over the desk, breasts trembling with each motion. My rhythm is slow but powerful, forcing the desk to slide toward the wall. Her moans grow louder as she pushes back against me, pulling me deeper into her.
Reaching her clit with my thumb, I circle it gently, pressing harder as I pinch her swollen flesh. Her arousal drips to the floor as her hips move, making my cock hit every inch of her. Losing control, I lift her ass, going deeper. She screams my name, music to my ears.
“Fuck, Viviana, your cunt is holding me so tight. I need you to come, baby,” I groan. My abs tense, and a shiver courses down my spine. My balls tighten, and I’m so close.
Circling my hips, I thrust harder into her sweet spot. She lets go, her body trembling with pleasure. Her head snaps back as I pull her hair, riding her harder, her walls gripping me, her orgasm dragging out longer than ever before.
She cries out, knuckles white against the desk. “Oh God, Declan, that was…” she breathes, little sparks still tingling in her body.
I pull her hair to bring her closer, thrusting into her as my hand cups her breast. My teeth graze her neck as my orgasm barrels through me like a truck on the highway. A guttural groan escapes as pleasure consumes me.
I pick her up and lay her on the bed, grabbing lotion from the nightstand. Gently, I rub it into her reddened skin. “You okay?” I ask softly.
She nods, her body melting into the mattress. Little moans and whimpers escape her lips as I massage her tender flesh. Brushing the hair from her face, I see her satisfied smile. I press a kiss to her temple.
This woman has become my entire life.