Chapter 41 Verity
Verity
The sound of rain hitting the glass doors like bullets woke me. I lay still with my eyes closed, cocooned beneath the thick comforter, still wrapped in a now-dry towel.
It was weird waking up to silence. The hostel had been anything but silent. This reminded me of my bedroom in Ireland, where if I opened the french windows, I could hear the sea roaring in the distance.
Had Declan left me? I couldn't hear him. No TV. No voices talking. My cheeks flamed at the memory of him carrying me from the bathroom. Then his comment about me sleeping with his brothers popped into my head, and I winced.
His opinion of me must be somewhere in the gutter. First, I'd let Ronan seduce me, then Conal. No doubt he assumed I was hoping for a full-house. All three Kelly brothers.
Saoirse was right. I needed help. Urgent psychological help to repair my non-existent boundaries.
Maybe I should go back to sleep and pray for death. A sudden, catastrophic brain embolism seemed like a better option than facing Declan. He'd seen me naked. God. What must he think of me?
He had a girlfriend, for fuck's sake! Compared to his beautiful model girlfriend with her long, lean legs and pert breasts, I looked like a heifer fattened up for a trip to the market. I truly was delusional if I thought he'd ever look at me in that way.
"Since you're clearly awake, I'll order some food."
My eyes snapped open in surprise to see Declan sat in an armchair across the room, his long legs resting on a coffee table. At some point, he'd changed into a pair of loose cotton pants and a clean polo shirt.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as the Sahara as my gaze lingered on the broad expanse of his chest before moving south. All thoughts of Bridget, his beautiful girlfriend, went poof.
"Hungry?" When my eyes slid back up to his face, his lips had curled up in wry amusement. I flushed at being caught ogling him so blatantly. What the fuck was wrong with me?
"No." My stomach chose that moment to growl like a junk-yard dog. He rolled his eyes.
"Get up while I call room service." The bastard stood and stretched while I fought hard not to lose myself in a blistering hot fantasy where he stalked over to the bed, pulled the covers off me, and…
"Here, pick what you want." He tossed a menu onto the bed, disrupting my chain of thought. "We're stuck here for at least 12 hours, so I'd prefer it if I didn't have to listen to your stomach cannibalize itself."
I nodded while staring, unseeing, at the menu, thankful for the way my long hair hid my fiery cheeks. Once he left me alone, I crawled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. By the time I'd scraped my hair back into a braid and pulled a robe on, my legs trembled from hunger.
When had I last eaten something? The only food to pass my lips in recent memory was the cheese sandwich I'd stuffed down before I left for the club yesterday afternoon.
What time was it now, anyway?
With no phone, I had no clue. All my meager belongings were at the hostel. Had anyone noticed my absence? Probably not, but I didn't like the idea of strangers rooting through my bag once they did. There wasn't much in there, but losing my passport would make life difficult.
Declan paced up and down while talking on his phone when I finally walked into the living area.
"I'm here on business, darling." Judging by his use of the word darling, it had to be Bridget. My teeth ground so aggressively it was a wonder I had any left.
"A very last-minute trip, yes." From the tension in his jaw, this was not a fun conversation. The last few times I'd seen Bridget with him, he seemed irritated rather than loved up. It had been clear not all was well between them.
I couldn't stop the surge of hopeful delight at the thought he might not be madly in love with Bridget before guilt stabbed me in the gut. Just because my love life was dead in the water didn't mean I had the right to wish the same on Declan.
"I'm sorry I can't be there, darling," he told her, although he didn't sound sorry. Not that I was an expert on men. The ones I'd had the misfortune to know had all been experts at gaslighting me.
Speaking of gaslighting assholes… I wondered whether Ronan's Insta babe was in his bed right now, enjoying his talented tongue and…
The moment I pictured him with a sexy woman, bile crept up my throat. Conal had probably moved on, too. It had been nothing but a fling to them. A temporary diversion.
"Bridget, this is work. I have no fucking idea when I'll be back, so I suggest you find someone else to go with." Declan’s snappish tone indicated he'd lost patience with her.
There was another long pause while he listened and clenched his fist in annoyance. I felt bad for eavesdropping on a private conversation, but also gleeful knowing he wasn't desperate to see her again.
"Take Greg. I honestly don't give a fuck, Bridget."
I winced on her behalf. The dismissal in his voice was clear as day, even to me, and I was terrible at reading men.
Was their relationship more fucked than I realized?
I tried not to be deliriously happy about that.
Breakups were painful. And besides, there were probably dozens more gorgeous women waiting in the wings to step into Bridget’s shoes.
Declan ended the call and looked up when he saw me watching from the doorway.
"Is everything OK?" It wasn't really my place to ask but I figured I should acknowledge the fact I'd heard everything.
"Fine," he snapped before dropping his phone on the sofa. "Have you decided what you want to eat?"
OK, then. He didn't want to talk about it. Whatever.
I pushed away my plate, unable to eat another mouthful, even though the thick fluffy pancakes smothered in maple syrup had been the most delicious thing I'd eaten in months. Possibly years.
Declan sat at the far end of the sofa, his plate long-since empty, staring at his phone again. There was no sign of his two men, Connor and Ash. I assumed one of them was outside in the hallway and the other sleeping.
"I ordered some fruit and pastries, too," Declan said without looking up.
I stifled a groan. "Sorry, I'm full." Too full. So full my stomach hurt.
He half-turned, fixing me with a hard stare. "You've lost weight. Eat something else. I don't need any shit from your sister about not taking care of you properly."
"Jesus, I'm an adult, not a kid! If I say I'm full, I'm full!" His expression turned glacial and the atmosphere in the room dropped by at least ten degrees. I shivered.
"Responsible adults don't make dumb decisions like leaving a place that's safe. Responsible adults don't walk into a club full of people traffickers and need rescuing."
"How was I supposed to know the club was dangerous?! I needed a job, and they were hiring!" It pissed me off that he and every other person in my sad fucking life treated me like a kid.
From the faint look of surprise on Declan's face, he hadn't expected me to push back. Well, that made two of us.
"For fuck’s sake, Verity! You've grown up in this life.
How could you not see the dangers?" He raked his fingers through his already messy hair, the frustration coming off him in waves.
"I told you not to leave the estate! You were lucky not to end up in the hands of your fucking father, who is apparently working with Avram Marku from what Milo tells me!
If he'd taken you, fuck knows what would have happened. "
The pancakes in my stomach turned into hard, indigestible lumps. Declan was right. I'd been a stupid fool. Without even trying, I'd walked right into the middle of my father's web and nearly ended up caught like a pathetic little fruit fly.
"I'm sorry for being so stupid," I mumbled, staring at a brown spot on the cream carpet. Stupid was my middle name. No wonder my sister wanted me back in the States. At least there she had five husbands on standby to make sure I didn't get myself into yet more trouble.
When I looked up, Declan threw me a look that told me he'd had enough of me and my bullshit.
"I get why you felt like you wanted your freedom, but running away from shit is not the answer.
" A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over me at the unspoken reference to my ill-fated fling with his brothers.
"I wasn't running away," I said while sliding off the couch. The best place for me was back in the bedroom, where I could crawl under the covers while the storm raged around us. Once the storm passed, both of us would hopefully have forgotten this awkward conversation.
"Yes, you were, and you're doing it again." When I dared to lift my gaze from the carpet, he stood over me, brawny arms folded, highlighting his impressive biceps. "Tell me why you left the estate against my express wishes?"
Surely he knew? I twisted my hands, itching to get away from what felt like an interrogation.
"You ran away because of the Instagram post." He sighed. "If you'd bothered to talk to Ronan, you'd have discovered the post was fake."
"Right. The photo of him in some ho's bed was AI?" He must think I was dumb.
"No, the photo was genuine, but the timing of it was wrong. Ronan thinks he slept with the woman last year at some point. It definitely wasn't last week, or whatever she claims."
"Hmm." Gaslighting 101: talk to your target in a soft, empathetic voice that makes whatever bullshit you're spinning sound utterly believable.
Declan dropped onto the sofa next to me, not quite within touching distance, but close enough that I could smell his subtle cologne.
"Running away from your problems is not the answer, darling."
My traitorous heart leaped in joy at his use of the word 'darling' in relation to me.
I was so fucked.