Chapter 25
Viviana
M y hands tremble slightly as I pick up my phone to call my father. I’m alone in Declan’s office; he offered to stay, but I asked him to wait outside. This is hard enough without an audience.
One last deep breath.
Dial.
“Viviana.” His tone was cold and surprised, but I knew he’d answer. My father’s curiosity always gets the better of him.
“Father.” I keep my voice steady, the same tone I always use with him.
“Wasn’t expecting you to call,” he says after a pause. “I heard things took a turn with the Callaghans.”
Asshole. Did he heard? He caused it all! I grip the edge of the desk, forcing myself to stay calm.“Then you must know why I’m calling,” I say, my voice dropping slightly, trying to sound hurt.
In a way, I am—just not at the Callaghans.
“Why are you calling, Viviana?” he asks, his tone cautious.
“I didn’t do anything to the Callaghans. I’ve been on my best behaviour, and they still dragged me to that damn warehouse and interrogated me like I was some goddamn terrorist!” My voice cracks with anger and venom.
“I see,” he says flatly. He keeps his distance, always speaking as little as possible. But I know how to deal with him.
“As you know, I couldn’t care less about your power plays with Declan or who’s running the show. That’s your game. But one thing I can’t stand is someone fucking with my integrity—my life! Now, he needs to pay!” I raise my voice, letting the rage spill out. “I will fuck him, Dad.”
There’s a long silence on the other end.
“Hmm,” he finally says. Another pause. “And what about what I did? Doesn’t that affect you? The… Elva situation?” His voice is probing now, testing.
Situation? He means cold-blooded murder. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay composed.
“It’s none of my business,” I say tightly. “I am pissed; you shouldn’t have killed her. She was innocent in all this.” I pause, drawing a shaky breath to steady myself. “But she’s gone, and if I have to choose between getting my life back or staying with the Callaghans… you know what my choice will be.”
Another silence. Jesus fucking Christ.
“All right,” he finally says, his tone unreadable. “Wait for my call. Maybe we can finally be on the same page, and you’ll actually do something for your family. For once.”
He hangs up.
I exhale deeply, slumping against the desk as I let the tension drain out of me. My chest heaves, my pulse pounding in my ears. Slowly, I feel my heart start to steady—until I feel warm hands wrap around me, pulling me into an embrace.
“You are amazing,” Declan whispers into my ear, his voice low. “I know that was hard.”
I turn to face him, and his eyes lock onto mine. They’re filled with understanding… and a flicker of fear.
“Let’s hope he believes it,” I draw in a ragged breath.
Declan pulls me closer, and I inhale his cologne, a mix of smoke, whiskey, and something distinctly his. A strange feeling crashes into me, something I’ve never felt before. It tightens in my chest and spreads through me like fire. I tilt my head up to meet his gaze.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, almost pleading. I need him right now.
His lips crash into mine without hesitation, hungry and demanding. He pulls me flush against him; his strength is overwhelming and grounding all at once. The door slams shut behind us with a loud thud as he shoves it without looking.
His hands grip my hips, strong and possessive, lifting me effortlessly. I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling the heat of his body as his kiss deepens. His tongue claims my mouth, and I let him take whatever he wants.
In one sweeping motion, Declan clears his desk, papers and objects clattering to the floor in a chaotic symphony. I fumble with my jeans, desperate to get them off.
“Fuck,” he moans, his voice low and raw as his dark eyes devour me. “What the fuck have you done to me, Viviana?”
His words send a shiver through me, but before I can respond, he crashes into me again, his lips blazing a trail down my neck. His kisses are furious, hungry, and completely unrestrained.
My hands move to his belt. I unzip his jeans, and his hard cock almost jumps out of his boxer shorts. My body feels like a fire being ignited. I grab his shaft and stroke it; he groans into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
I open my legs and lean onto the desk, giving him all access to me. His eyes travel all over my body; I can see the heat in his gaze. Just his eyes alone, that hunger in them, is enough to shoot warm pleasure right into my core.
He positions his cock at my entrance, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Tell me you’re mine, Viviana. “His voice drops an octave, rough and commanding, and every word is dripping with something feral.
For a moment, I can’t respond, lost in the darkness of his eyes. His pupils are so blown they look like endless pits, pulling me under, swallowing me whole.
“I’m yours, Declan,” my voice falters. His eyes remain fixed on me as he shoves inside, making me yelp in pleasure.
“Fucking mine, firecracker,” he growls, thrusting with each word while his finger circles my clit. He has the hands of a goddamn god—or maybe the Devil.
Definitely the Devil.
“Declan,” I murmur breathlessly. Just his name on my lips makes his body tremble. His control snaps and I feel his hard cock twisting inside me.
God, he feels so good—his size, his thickness, every inch of him claiming me. My arousal flows like lava, and he slides in and out, maintaining a relentless pace that drives me higher and higher without letting me fall over the edge.
“Your cunt feels so fucking good around my cock,” he grunts. “I can’t get enough of you; you’re addictive.” His lips crash into my neck, biting and kissing, leaving a trail of bruises that feel like his permanent mark.
He straightens, his hand gripping my throat. He is still inside me. “Tap my leg if you need it,” he commands, his voice thick with lust and dominance.
I glare at him, and he winks. He fucking winks. Then his grip tightens, just enough to send a thrilling shiver down my spine. He begins to thrust again, each movement so powerful my body slides on the desk. His free hand grabs me, pulling me closer, ensuring I don’t go anywhere.
My body stiffens—a mix of fear and pleasure. The control he exerts, his sheer dominance, makes me melt. He tightens his hold again, and I whimper, my walls clenching around his cock.
Spots dance in my vision as I gasp for air. He releases his grip slightly, just enough for me to draw a shaky breath, before gripping me again. My orgasm builds rapidly, the tension tightening every nerve in my body. I moan, and the darkness flirts with my vision again. My nipples ache, and I feel as if my body is on fire.
“That’s it, firecracker, come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice like a dark promise. “I want to feel your cunt come all over my cock before I fill you up.” His thumb presses on my clit, circling with perfect pressure.
My body detonates like dynamite, my release ripping through me in waves. I scream his name, my vision blurring as pleasure consumes me. He pounds into me, drawing out every last tremor of my climax.
His release follows a deep, guttural roar as his thick warmth fills me. For a moment, I think I’ve blacked out because when I come to, I’m cradled in his lap, his suit jacket draped over me.
“You tap my leg or say the safe word before you actually pass out,” he teases, his lips tugging into a soft smile as he strokes my hair.
I nuzzle into his chest, his scent—a mix of sex and cologne—wrapping around me. “Sorry,” I whisper, my voice weak.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “We’ll work on that later.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, grounding me in his warmth.
There’s a sense of security in his arms, the way his heart beats steadily under me. It feels like a storm at bay, fierce but contained.
I’m on the edge of sleep when the sharp ding of my phone jolts me awake. Glancing at the screen, my stomach drops.
Find out the next shipment.
Giovanni.
I glance at Declan, whose face hardens. The warmth from earlier vanishes, replaced by something cold and lethal.
“And so it begins,” he murmurs, his devilish smirk curling as his eyes glint with danger. He looks deadly now—a predator ready to strike.
I’m sitting in the living room when Connor settles beside me, offering a soft smile. He’s definitely the sweetest of the Callaghan brothers. He’s gotten more comfortable around me now, though if I get too close or tease him, the telltale redness creeps up his neck, which always makes me giggle. At least he doesn’t avoid me anymore.
“This is where the shipment will arrive—dock 4, at half past midnight. It’ll carry 120 guns,” he explains, pointing to a map spread out on the table, along with a stack of papers I can’t make sense of. His face searches mine as if to reassure me. “Don’t worry; we’ve made sure everyone will be safe.”
I nod. “So, I just text my father that?” I ask, glancing at the papers.
“Take pictures of these and send them to him,” Declan says from behind me, his signature black suit and whisky glass in hand. His tone is casual, but his presence fills the room. “And don’t forget to mention how hard it was to get this info and how you were almost caught,” he adds with a wink.
Taking a deep breath, I snap a few photos of the documents and send the text: Tonight at half past midnight.
The reply comes back almost immediately:
If this isn’t right, they’ll come for you, Piccola.
Isn’t my father just a charmer? I give him exactly what he wants, and I don’t even get a “thank you” or a “be careful.” Figures.
“Your father is a piece of work,” Connor says with a chuckle as he gathers the map and papers.
“Her father is a piece of shit, you mean,” Declan snaps, his voice sharp.
He isn’t wrong. My father has always been the type to ignore emotions. That’s why my mother suffered so much. She was my rock, and I was hers; it was us two against the world. But when she died, the world turned pitch black. If my father didn’t care much about me when she was alive, it got so much worse after she was gone.
Honestly, the idea of Declan killing my father when this is all over doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should. The man did try to have me killed, didn’t he? It’s only fair. And he deserves it. He killed Elva, too. So why is there this ache deep in my chest?
The hours crawl by. We’re all gathered in the living room. Flynn arrived about an hour ago and has settled at the round table near the bar with the others.
Meanwhile, I’m lying on the black leather couch, remote in hand, zapping through channels nonstop, trying not to overthink. Midnight comes and goes. I grip the remote so hard my knuckles turn white, glancing at the clock every few seconds.
“I can help take your mind off the clock,” Declan murmurs, leaning down behind me, his breath warm against my ear.
I smile softly. “No need, but thank you.” I’m too worried about all of it, and the last thing I need is my father calling mid-orgasm.
He brushes his lips against my hair before walking back to the table, his reaction making me melt. This side of Declan has been so unexpected.
At 12:45, Kian’s phone rings. The voice on the other end is frantic, shouting, “They blew the shipment!”
My heart leaps, and I jump up so fast I trip over the rug. Flynn catches me before I hit the floor.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he says in his usual calm, controlled tone, almost soothing. “Everything’s going as planned.”
I look toward Declan, desperate for confirmation. He meets my gaze with a confident smirk, nodding once.
“Our men don’t know the full plan. That’s why they’re panicking,” Flynn explains, his calmness infuriating me even more. “We had to keep it that way. It’s the only way to make this believable.”
Meanwhile, Kian is keeping up appearances, yelling and cursing into the phone. “We’ll be right there!” he shouts before hanging up. The second the call ends, the brothers share knowing grins.
“You’re staying here with Flynn,” Declan says, grabbing his jacket.
“I’ll keep her safe if anyone tries to come here,” Flynn promises, his expression hardening into a mask of deadly focus.
“Declan,” I say, stepping in front of him before he reaches the door. My heart pounds in my chest, and I feel like I’m grasping at time itself. “Be careful.”
He stops, tilting his head down as I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. I close my eyes, memorizing the feel of him, the faint scent of cologne and danger wrapped in one.
“Don’t worry, firecracker,” he whispers, his lips brushing my forehead.
I look out the window as the brothers climb onto their black bikes, their helmets hiding their faces. The roar of the engines deafens the quiet night.