Chapter Eight
Chapter 8
SIENNA
DECLAN IS SITTING ACROSS FROM me on the jet—his private jet, no less. And the man is … beyond words. When I had imagined what he might look like without the gala mask, I never thought he’d be this striking.
He’s wearing a brilliant white button up tucked into black slacks. The simplicity of the outfit makes his blue irises pop—irises no longer hidden in shadows. Those blue eyes are framed by angular cheekbones, a sturdy nose, and thick dark eyebrows. I can now see his Italian ancestry.
The cherry on top of this smoldering cake is his hair, somehow darker, longer, and more wavy than I recall from the gala.
But regardless of his sex appeal, there are storm clouds in his gaze.
He’s reclined on a tan leather seat, one ankle crossed over his knee, clicking a pen in one hand.
Click. Click. Click.
He’s been studying me the entire half hour we’ve been on this jet, his mouth shifting from smirking to frowning in a repetitive dance.
I keep glancing over at his two bodyguards in the corner, Jeremy and Sean, because I’m trying to ignore Declan. My eyes always wander back to him. I like watching that strong jaw flex, and my fingers ache to feel the stubble along his tanned cheeks. That night on the phone, I loved hearing how his voice unraveled more each time I moaned; now I’m longing to witness him unravel in front of me.
Here I am running for my life, terrified I’ll never truly escape Anthony, yet Declan’s sex appeal is strong enough to overpower that.
Shifting in my seat because I’m feeling flushed, I adjust the large black sunglasses covering the upper half of my face. I’m also wearing a gigantic sunhat so I can hide under the generous brim.
I lucked out because Sean was the one to greet me outside the private airport. I had shown my ID to security inside, away from prying eyes, then quickly put my sunglasses and hat back on before meeting Declan and Sean near the jet. I was relieved that neither Declan nor Sean had to know my name. The airport officials and flight crew now know, of course, but they said they’d be discreet.
Declan frowned when he saw me but otherwise didn’t say anything about the accessories
Well, he hasn’t said anything at all besides “hi.” Then he gave me a grunt when I said, “Thank you for letting me come.”
I don’t care that Sean saw what I look like, but for Declan, I need this barrier. I know it’s silly—some might say irrational—but hiding my full face keeps him at a distance, reminds me to remain detached when the pull between us is so strong.
These sunglasses and hat are a statement: we don’t need to know each other.
I glance at his bodyguards again. It’s a little strange to have them around, but I guess it’s normal when you’re rich. They’re both doing their own thing—Jeremy is on his phone and Sean is reading, his long angled black bangs falling into his face. I talked to them both a little and Jeremy is very chatty while Sean is … I don’t know. He seems like a guarded, slightly secretive person.
My eyes shift back to Declan as he clicks that damn pen.
Click. Click. Click.
Instead of focusing on that intense gaze of his, I need to start thinking about my next steps. Hawai’i is just a temporary fix. Though I’m excited about seeing the main island for the first time, I’m not planning on sight-seeing. I need to disappear. Maybe I could live on one of the smaller islands. Find a job catering to tourists, save up some money.
I should have enough time to do that. Since I already smashed and then ditched my phone in a random trashcan back in San Francisco, Anthony shouldn’t be able to find me, especially if I pay for things with cash. I don’t know how he tracked me after all these years, but he’s not a wizard. Once I save enough money, I can fly to another country, get as far away from the States as possible. Disappear in some tiny European town that’s off the map. Anthony might have connections in the U.S., but I can’t see how he’d find me in another country.
I run my trembling thumb over the small phoenix tattoo on my inner wrist. It’s the only tattoo I have, and I got it to remind me of everything I’ve survived. That I can survive tough shit. I will get through this.
Still … I feel on the verge of a panic attack from merely thinking of Anthony—thinking of the lonely 17-year-old boy with a rough childhood, the boy I met when I was 16, more than a decade ago. The boy I watched turn into a man filled only with venom.
I close my eyes and try to focus on the hum of the jet engines.
Anthony isn’t here.
I’m thousands of miles away from him in the air.
Just focus on my breath, the hum, the—
Click. Click. Click.
That sound is grating on my nerves, so I open my eyes and frown at Declan. “Can you please stop?”
He stops immediately, twirling the silver metal pen along his fingers. He finally drops it onto the seat next to him.
The night we met at the gala flashes through my mind.
“I’m glad you caught my eye.”
I can’t imagine him saying that to me now. All I’m doing is taking advantage of his sense of justice in protecting women—something made clear at the gala.
Margaret was good at taking advantage of men. Not that I was flirting with Declan because I had an agenda, but Anthony taught Margaret how to do that. Then he sent her to ‘accidentally’ bump into rival dealers and flirt until she was trusted. She’d find secrets, weaknesses, then Anthony would use that to take them down.
Sometimes, all the way down.
Yes, they were criminals involved in a dangerous world. But they still had families.
“Sorry,” I say. I’m speaking to Declan and to all the people that Margaret hurt.
Declan’s gaze tries unsuccessfully to pierce through my sunglasses before dropping. While massaging the back of his neck, he scowls at the floor. Then he undoes his cufflinks and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.
My reaction is involuntary—a slight intake of air once his veiny forearms are exposed. A thin layer of dark hair blankets his skin.
He catches my reaction and studies me some more, his face a hard mask. With a swallow, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and turn to look out the window at the night sky. I wish he would stop looking at me so damn intensely. It’s … unnerving. And also doing things to my body I’d rather not acknowledge.
To my relief, he stands and crosses the jet, putting more space between us. At the small bar tucked along one wall, he begins making a drink. Ice clinks into a frosted glass. The top of a decanter makes a sharp pop . Amber liquid is poured.
“Would you like something?” he asks, his back to me.
“Oh, um, no thanks. I don’t like drinking.”
He corks the decanter. “There’s tea or soda.”
“Tea, I guess. Thank you.”
“Iced or hot?”
“Hot?” I don’t know why I phrased it as a question, but I’m a little surprised at how accommodating he’s being. I’m using him for a free trip to Hawai’i and he knows that, so he could’ve just left me to fend for myself, escaping to the room in the back.
Instead, he’s lingering.
He disappears around a corner, where I think there’s a small kitchenette. Five minutes later, he reappears, carrying a mug in one hand and his glass in the other.
He hands me the mug and I get a generous inhale of his scent—the same delicious scent I wrapped myself in when I had his jacket.
My mind slips to that night again, to images of him stroking himself while commanding me to rub the silky jacket between my thighs.
Dammit, do not think about that.
I sip the tea, hoping it will burn my mouth and distract my brain; unfortunately, it’s the perfect temperature.
“There was only green,” he says before returning to his seat across from me.
“That’s fine. Thank you.” I take another sip, letting the warmth soothe my stomach.
Ice clinks in his glass as he sips his whiskey, or whatever it is. “So … classes have been stressful?” he asks.
My stomach knots. I was afraid he might initiate small talk. I only nod, trying to return to our awkward silence.
“What are you studying?”
“Art,” I say.
“What kind of art?”
I stare into my tea, watching the pale green liquid swirl. “Doesn’t matter.”
He sighs and fixes his gaze into the blackness of night.
God, I feel like the shittiest person ever. I steal this man’s expensive jacket, agree to phone sex but then hang up, reject his offer for more fun even though I would really like him to ‘fuck me out of his system,’ tell him to stop messaging, then call out of nowhere and beg to go to Hawai’i under his expense. Plus, I do all of this when we’re not dating, he barely knows me, and I have no intentions of hooking up.
I can’t imagine why he’s still being so patient and accommodating, or trying to talk to me.
I’m clearly a mess and a really awful person.
I set my tea on a tray and then take off my boots. I’m wearing my go-to outfit of black leggings, clunky boots, and an oversized sweater. It’s comfortable for the jet trip, but Hawai’i is a lot warmer than San Francisco. Stupidly, I packed a lot of sweaters and only two T-shirts. I can’t spare the cash to buy new tops, so maybe I’ll just cut off the sleeves.
But I change positions so my feet are tucked under my hip, then I lift my chin. Yes, I’m a mess and being awful, but I need to focus on today’s mantra: What matters is getting back up.
I can fix this.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and his eyes focus on me again. He doesn’t respond, just waits, so I add, “I’m sorry for everything. And for being crazy. I’ll pay you back.”
The first whisper of a smirk lifts his full lips. He sips his drink. “Will you?”
I hold myself firm as I nod. “Yes. My funds are lacking at the moment, but I want to pay you back. I’m not trying to get a free ride, I just needed an escape. I appreciate you being so accommodating.”
His face is emotionless as he turns to his bodyguards.
Sean seems to immediately sense that Declan needs something. He glances up and asks, “Yeah?”
“Can you give us some privacy, please? Hang out in the bedroom.”
Jeremy lowers his phone. “Together?”
Declan’s eye twitches. “Yes. Watch a movie.”
“A movie? There’s only the bed to sit on and it’s barely a full.”
Sean pulls him to his feet before he can protest more. Then he says evenly, “Come on. You don’t wanna cuddle with me? I’m good at it.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. I’m picking the movie.”
Silence descends as they disappear down a short hallway. Now I’m alone with Declan. I cast him a wary glance.
He reclines further into his seat, letting his legs stretch out into a wide V, and my gaze traces the outline of his muscular thighs through his dress pants. “I wasn’t expecting you to pay me back,” he replies, “but if you insist.” He sips his drink, drawing out the suspense. “The hotel room is about seven hundred per night, and we’ll be there for ten nights. This jet is about thirty thousand one-way.”
I swallow hard as I do the math in my head. That’s … too much. But when he gave me the address to a private airport, I expected as much.
“Okay,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady and forcing myself not to flinch. “My half for the jet is fifteen. I can make that work. Eventually. I once paid off a car that cost that much. So … it’s doable.” Most expensive fucking flight of my life. It will take me years to pay off that debt, but it’ll prove that I’m not just being selfish and repeating things Margaret did. I meant what I said—I’ll figure out a way to find the money. I always have.
“It’s a two-way trip,” he comments.
“I only need it one-way.” His brow furrows and I know he’s about to probe into my response, so I quickly add, “And I appreciate your offer for a hotel room, but once we land, I’ll find a cheaper place for myself. I’m sure there’s a budget motel.” Or I’ll sleep on the beach. I was homeless for a year after I turned 15.
I touch my phoenix tattoo. I’ll make this work. I have to.
Declan continues to look confused, but there’s something else in his stare—rigid steel. Leaning to his left, he reaches for an intercom button.
After a second, a man’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Yes, Mr. Conte?”
“I may need to turn around and go back. Just a heads up. I’ll let you know shortly.”
“Copy that.”
I drop my feet to the floor and dig my fingernails into the armrests, needing something to cling to. Adrenaline spikes my heart rate. “What? No, we can’t turn around. We have to go to Hawaii.”
Declan is the definition of cool confidence, and no matter how stormy his gaze gets, the rest of him is always poised and in control. He merely leans forward, resting his thick forearms on his knees. Then, a single word: “Why?”
“I-I told you. I’m stressed from school and work. I just needed a break.”
“No. You wanted a one-way ticket, so you can ditch me at the airport.”
My mouth stays shut; I don’t have any excuse for that.
He leans an inch closer, continuing to pin me with his gaze. “How much longer are you going to keep lying to me, whatever your name is?”
I still can’t figure out how to respond because I certainly can’t tell him the truth, and anything else would be more lies.
“What’s going on?” he asks, his tone a little softer. “Bad breakup? Trouble with the IRS? Did you commit a crime?”
That last one hits too hard, so I jump to my feet, pushing my sunglasses up my nose because they feel loose; any minute they could fall, exposing how I really am. “I’m not a fucking criminal.”
Not anymore.
Margaret was. Not me. Not Sienna.
The woman I used to be is dead and buried. There’s even a gravesite for her back in Chicago.
Declan takes a breath and then says, “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to accuse you of something. But considering you’re on my jet, I’d only like some truthful indication of why you don’t want to return to San Francisco.”
I shake my head, feeling like I’m collapsing in on myself. “You have to stop asking. Please stop asking things about my life. I only need to get to Hawaii, and it’s very important. That’s all I can tell you. Please, I can’t go back right now.” I fall into my seat, feeling like I’ve hit a new low. It’s hard for me to plead with anyone like this, especially a man I’ve already asked too much of, but it’s my life on the line. Telling him the truth might also put him in danger.
Though I don’t think WITSEC is looking out for me anymore—something crooked happened in their system—their number one rule was to never reveal your true identity. No matter what, never tell anyone you’re in WITSEC.
I shake my head again. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you. If you want me to drop to my knees and beg, I will. Just please don’t turn the jet around.”
With a groan, he scrubs a hand through his wavy hair and turns his confused and concerned expression to the ceiling. Then he hits the intercom button with a fist. “Stay on course for the Big Island.”
“Copy that.”
I sag into my seat. Thank God.
Declan directs his exasperation at me. “Fine. I can respect your reasons for keeping things to yourself. But don’t insult my integrity. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you stay in some budget motel. I invited you, so while I’m in Hawaii, you’ll be staying with me in a hotel room. One that I pay for. You’re also insane if you think I’d charge you for this jet trip. Keep your money.” He stands and storms toward the bar. Over his shoulder, he adds, “That’s not up for discussion, or I’ll tell the pilot to turn around. Understand?”
I nod weakly, feeling a little uneasy about what he means about me staying with him. I don’t like being trapped by a man—been there, done that, not doing it again. Though I’m here voluntarily, demanding that I stay in his room is pushing some boundaries.
I really don’t want him to turn the jet around, but I have to clarify a few things. “Is there only one bed?”
“No. It’s a suite with two rooms.”
I exhale. Good.
“I might only stay one night,” I say.
He sighs loudly. “As I said, while I’m in Hawaii for the next ten days, I would prefer you stay with me so I can ensure your safety.”
Oh. That’s … actually sweet. “What if I only stay one night, though?”
Another sigh. “I really can’t stop you, but it would irritate me.”
I chew my bottom lip as I watch him prepare another drink for himself. My next question is the most important: “But you wouldn’t stop me?”
He pauses what he’s doing at the bar and glances over his shoulder. “Of course not. You’re my guest, not … ” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he looks concerned as he returns his focus to the bar.
Okay.
Okay. I’m just his guest; he’s not trying to trap me.
He’s not another man like Anthony. I hope.
There’s just one more detail left to clarify. “Your original invitation was about … well, fucking me and then cutting me loose while you go to your conference. If I let you pay for everything, is that what you’re expecting?”
He slams the bottom of his glass against the bar top as he mutters, “Jesus fucking—” Whipping around, his eyes are ablaze. “You think I can’t possibly be trying to help without an ulterior motive?”
I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to find the right words. Finally, I say, “You seem noble and patient, but really … I don’t know you. I don’t know you well enough.”
One side of his mouth caves in and he grabs the decanter to finish pouring his drink. “Not personally, but I’m sure you know of me.”
“No.”
After his drink is ready, he returns to his seat, taking a heavy gulp of whatever’s in the glass. “Don’t lie about any Internet searches you did. Every woman I’m with looks me up.”
My body is drained, and I have a headache. This has been such an awful day; I just want to sleep. I even sound exhausted when I respond, “I don’t want you prying into my past, so it’s only fair I don’t pry into yours. I know nothing about you except that you’re rich enough to afford a private jet and you like art galas.” I lower my voice to mumble, “You’re also bossy.”
He must’ve heard that last part because he huffs out a light chuckle. The ice in his glass clinks as he swirls it. “You really didn’t research me?”
“No. Why would I lie about that? We’re just two people who only know each other … temporarily.” Once we get to Hawaii, once I get a full night’s sleep, I’ll start figuring out my new life.
I hope I don’t have to kill Sienna and create a new identity. I like her.
Declan has fallen strangely quiet, his gaze unfocused as he stares at the empty air in front of him. For the first time since we met, I wonder what I would find if I looked him up. Does he also have a past he doesn’t like people knowing? Or is he bitter about gold diggers—women only dating him for all the fancy things he can buy?
Well, I already know he’s rich and I don’t want any of that. I couldn’t care less if I live the rest of my life dirt poor. All I’ve ever wanted is to make art and have a good, simple life. As Sienna, I also want to make a difference and do something to help others.
Those are my desires. Even if I flee to another country, I’m promising myself right now that I won’t give up on my art program for troubled youth. I didn’t have help when I was struggling as a teen, so now I want to be that support for someone.
If I live long enough.
Declan finally snaps out of his thoughts, his face still a dark storm, and gulps the rest of his drink. His eyes dip to my locket, which I’m currently clutching, and he answers my previous question. “The only thing I expect during this trip is for you to stop being so stubborn about how I spend my own money, which includes how I choose to spend it on you. That’s all.” His gaze captures mine again, and it’s back to its normal molten intensity. His voice is raw and layered as he says, “If you change your mind about sex, you’ll have to beg for it.”
The sudden ache between my thighs is unwanted, but it’s not like I have control over my body. It’s apparently a traitor. So are my thoughts, because I get a flash of Declan towering above me, stroking himself, while I’m on my knees begging. It’s incredibly hot and I’m irritated he put that in my head.
I lift my chin defiantly. “Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t change my mind.”
The smirk that lifts his mouth makes him irritatingly more handsome.
Damn this man.
I stand and adjust my sweater. “If it’s okay, I’d like to rest in the bedroom until we land.”
“Of course.” He presses a different button on the intercom. “Our guest would like to use the room, so please return to the cabin.”
Jeremy’s voice crackles through the speaker: “Aww, what? No. We just go to the part w—” It cuts out suddenly.
A second later, Sean’s voice says, “Yes, boss. Be right there.”
Declan shakes his head at the floor, then tells me, “I’ll have the stewardess let you know when we’re making the descent.”
“Thanks.”
Once Sean and Jeremy appear, I retreat to the private bedroom in the back of the jet. I shut the door, then collapse on the bed. The weight of the past twelve hours presses down on me, and I almost can’t breathe.
What I’m doing is crazy. I’m going off to Hawaii with a man I barely know, who clearly has some control issues, and I’m hoping he doesn’t turn rotten the way Anthony did.
I’m insane. But what choice did I have? It was either take a chance with Declan so I could hop on a jet out of town ASAP, or escape by car, a much slower mode of transportation. The jet seemed like the better choice.
I only hope it was the right one.
This entire day sucks. I just want to go home; I want to be in my bed listening to Mystical snoring or Jada watching TV too loud in her room.
I grab a feather pillow and sob into it.
Jada would’ve gotten home a few hours ago; Mystical would’ve told her about my frantic departure. She’d have cried and sent me a thousand texts that will remain unanswered. Then she would’ve called and called and called, every attempt going straight to voicemail while my smashed phone sits in a trash can near Hayes and Webster.
Now, Jada is probably sobbing herself to sleep, confused and angry and hurt that her best friend abandoned her with no explanation.
She hates me, I just know it. That thought has turned my insides into strips of shredded veins and muscles and bone.
We swore never to do that to each other.