Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Dublin—12 years ago
Declan stared at the ceiling of Rose’s hotel room, partially illuminated by the bathroom light. She was stretched out like a starfish, snoring quietly. Rose was worn out, and frankly so was he, but his brain wouldn’t take the hint and shut down.
Jesus. What the fuck was I thinking? Quoting fucking poetry like a lovesick puppy.
He hadn’t been thinking, and that was the problem. Since he’d met her last night, it was as though she’d put some sort of spell on him. His normal, rational, logical way of thinking was thrown out the window, replaced with this other version of himself he didn’t recognize. Every part of him was attuned to every part of the beautiful woman next to him.
Rose had looked up at him, her eyes soft and warm, and a poem he’d memorized for a class at prep school poured out of him.
Declan didn’t know what to think. He should be worried about what it was his Uncle Iain wanted to speak to him about, or why, after just settling his debt, his brother Seamus was looking for him as well.
Today—with her—he hadn’t thought about it at all. He wasn’t Declan Bloom and all the pressures that came with his life. He was Declan Riordan. It had been wonderful. Wonderful and freeing to meet someone who accepted him as he was.
In the back of his mind, he heard the echoes of a warning. Be careful. She’s different. Special. You can’t keep her.
Declan knew he should listen, because after what was easily the best sexual experience of his life, his chest had swelled with emotions. Emotions that had no business being there. Rose was a tourist on vacation, and she was leaving in the morning.
The crushing feeling on his sternum meant nothing, he told himself. But it did. Declan had spent the last several hours exploring every inch of her body with his mouth and hands, but it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t just the sex.
Being with Rose settled something deep inside him. Today, spending time with her, it had felt like all the pieces of his life that whirled with nonstop demand inside him had finally drifted into place. The constant need to stay on alert, to think five steps ahead of everyone, even his own father… had all quieted with her hand in his. He wasn’t ready to let her go.
The thoughts swirling in Declan’s head slowed to a stop, an audacious plan taking shape.
He frowned.
Will she think I’m a creep for even suggesting it? Am I a creep for suggesting it while letting her believe I’m someone else? If anyone in the family heard about it? If my father…
Declan scrubbed a hand over his face.
Fuck. This is a terrible idea.
One that would most likely blow up in his face. But he’d been living his life for his family since the day he was born. Was it wrong to want to take a step back from the world and be Declan for a while?
“I have an idea,” Declan said, handing her the cup of takeout coffee he’d gotten while she was asleep.
Rose pushed her mess of hair out of her face, revealing a deep crease on one cheek from where she had lain on the sheet, dead to the world. She rubbed at her eyes, and he smiled.
“Hear me out before you answer.”
She pushed to a sitting position, her back against the headboard, the sheet bunching at her waist, leaving her top free for him to ogle.
Rose took a large sip of her coffee and then another. “Give me a second,” she muttered, slurping at her cup.
“You really have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.” Declan grinned when she choked, and a bright flush covered her porcelain skin.
“As a wake-up call, that’s pretty good.” Rose’s fingers toyed with the sheet, like she was going to cover herself, but then they relaxed. “What’s your idea?”
Declan took her lack of self-consciousness as a positive sign. “I have a week off too.” Her brow furrowed, and he rushed to explain. “I’m starting a new job in a week. It’s a promotion, so this might be my last time off for a while.”
“You got a promotion at your cousin’s bar?” Lines appeared between her eyebrows.
“It’s a family business. We all have to work our way up.” It wasn’t a total lie. “What would you say to us spending our last week of freedom together?”
“What?” A cautious look crossed her face.
Declan traced a finger across her cheekbone and over the shell of her ear, back along her jaw and over her lips, before cupping her cheek. He just needed to touch her, and he’d stopped trying to figure out why.
“Yesterday was…” Despite his well thought out speech, words failed him, but Rose smiled, leaning her cheek into his caress.
“I know.”
“I don’t know what this is between us, and I know we both have lives we have to go back to… but… We don’t have to go yet. Stay with me in Ireland. I have a place in the south. We can rent a car. Go wherever you want.”
Rose licked her lips. She hadn’t said no right away. He felt the first bit of hope creeping in.
“Like a week in bed?” Her tone was a little too careful, and Declan lowered his hand.
“Not just that. Though a week-long sex fest with you sounds pretty damn good.”
Declan felt like his heart was in his throat, and his pride was screaming at him to shut up, but instead of listening, he was honest with her.
“Last night was incredible. Fuck, that doesn’t even begin to do it justice… But it’s more than that. I can’t explain it, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but there’s something here, and I know I’m not the only one to feel it.”
Rose’s eyes were wide, and she stared at him unblinking.
“I know any sort of future is out of the question. We live in different worlds… but one week…”
Declan held his breath. This was the most vulnerable he’d ever made himself to another human, but he didn’t regret it. Didn’t regret shedding the mask he wore every day. “You can trust me.”
A little smile lifted her lips. “I know. I don’t know how I know, but I do.”
Declan’s pulse raced. “Does that mean?”
“Yes, Declan Riordan. I’ll spend the week with you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah?” She grinned. “That sex fest sounded pretty enticing.”
While Declan retrieved his things from his mother’s home and rented a car, Rose rescheduled her flight for six days later out of the Shannon Airport in southern Ireland.
Taking her suitcase and putting it in the tiny backseat, he held her door open for her.
“Are you sure?”
Rose laughed. “You're making me think you didn't want me to say yes.”
Declan kissed her hard on the lips. “It was the best thing I’d ever heard.”
Her eyes grew misty, and Declan felt his heart thump hard. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to fall in love with this girl. That would be a disaster.
“Where are we going?” she asked, staring out the window as they left the city and merged onto the highway.
“I thought we’d head south. Spend the night somewhere near Kilkenny. It’s beautiful.” Declan rubbed at his thigh. Was he nervous? What the hell? “There’s, uh, a castle and some other historic stuff… if you like that kind of thing.”
Rose reached for his hand, bringing it to rest in her lap. “I love that kind of thing.”
Kilkenny wasn’t far, and while Declan had never particularly enjoyed car trips, preferring his father’s private jet, the hours on the road were some of the most relaxed and fun Declan could remember.
Rose put on early 2000s era pop music, singing along and teasing him until he joined in. After strolling the town hand in hand and convincing her to visit a small farm distillery, they ate dinner in a pub where Rose declared ham and cheese toasties the perfect food.
That night, when the person in the room next door banged on the wall, after the second time Rose screamed his name, and he covered her mouth with his hand, Declan realized he'd never been happier.
“This looks like it was plucked out of a storybook.” Olivia’s face was practically pressed to the window as they entered the scenic drive around the Ring of Kerry.
Warmth filled his chest. He’d spent the first part of his life in Dublin, and later full time with his father in Rhode Island, but this area of Ireland would always feel like home.
Her head swiveled back and forth, looking out his window, then through the windshield, before returning to her own side.
“Are you getting hungry?” Declan eyed the puffy white clouds. “The weather is nice now, but that’s no guarantee it won’t change in an hour.”
They’d ordered a picnic lunch from a small shop in Kilkenny before they left. While waiting for it to prepared, Rose had dragged him into several shops along the high street. She had only brought a couple of outfits as her trip was intended to last just a couple of days. As she oohed and aahed, taking forever to pick out the woolen sweater she wanted, Declan was more than content to wait. She added a couple pairs of leggings, a few T-shirts, and a loose skirt to her pile before wandering over to inspect a display of teacups.
She picked up each one, her nail tracing the unique designs. When her brow wrinkled, and she put it back, he joined her. “Do you want it?”
Rose shrugged, but she chewed her lip. “It’s not very practical. What am I going to do with one tea cup?”
Declan smiled. “Start a collection.”
“I’m not sure I’m a collection kind of girl.” Her mouth moved back and forth. “But I might like to be.”
“My grandmother had a collection. Mam was furious when her mother left it to me in her will, along with the cottage. Which is crazy because my mother is a city girl through and through.”
“Are you close to your mom?” It was the closest they had come to discussing anything personal.
“I’m not sure if close is the right word. My mother is a force of nature, and she likes to get her own way.” Declan’s lips twisted. “We have that in common.”
“Who doesn’t? Everyone wants to get their way.”
Declan cocked his head. “I suppose that’s true.”
“It’s only a problem if someone decides that what they want is more important than what everyone else wants. No negotiation is won without compromise.”
Rose walked back to where she’d left her clothing choices with the cashier, her words leaving Declan to stare after her.
Picking up the pink, flower-shaped tea cup sitting on a leaf saucer that she’d been admiring, he hurried to catch up, reaching for his wallet.
“Let me,” he said, extending his credit card.
“Absolutely not.” Rose brushed his hand away, and Declan folded his fingers, obscuring the card, realizing too late that the telltale black rectangle would give him away. Bouncers rarely qualified for Black Amex cards.
Thankfully, Rose hadn’t noticed. “These are for me. You’ve already handled the rental car and hotel.” The cashier put the clothes in one big bag, her gaze bouncing between the two of them. “Besides,” Rose said with a smile, “I start my big girl job soon, so I’ll have extra money.”
Declan blinked. Not once in his life had anyone turned down his offer to pay. Granted, Rose didn’t know the truth about his finances, but something told him it wouldn’t matter if she did.
“Thank you for offering, though. It’s very sweet.” She gave him a brief peck on his lips and turned to the door. “Our basket should be ready by now.”
Declan quickly purchased the tea cup, urging the woman behind the counter to wrap it quickly, all the while keeping an eye out that Rose didn’t wander back wondering what took him so long. Joining her, he dropped his smaller bag inside of hers to hide the gift.
He pulled the car over into one of the many viewing-spot parking lots. Declan lifted the basket with one hand, holding Rose’s hand with the other. Finding a flat spot in the sun, Declan spread the picnic blanket over the short grass and moss, while Rose unpacked the basket. She opened two bottles of water, handing one to him.
“Back there at the shop,” Declan said. “That thing you said about negotiation. That doesn’t sound like an English major.”
“I’m not an English major.”
“I thought you said you were studying at Oxford. You know, all those writers and poets…”
He trailed off when Rose laughed. “That was for fun.”
Declan’s brow furrowed. “You went to Oxford for fun? Are you some kind of super nerd?”
“Probably. I am pretty smart.” She pretended to dust off her shoulder, a happy laugh bubbling out. “But no, I’m not graduating from Oxford. I was a business major.”
Declan shook his head. “I’m confused.”
“I went to a state school on a scholarship, but I always wanted to study literature, specifically the Romantics. My graduate school has a mini-mester abroad option at Oxford. Even though the credits don’t apply to my degree, it’s the only way I could ever attend. I saved up so that I could do it before joining the real world.” She screwed the top back on the water. “Officially, I graduate with my MBA in a couple of weeks.”
“So, I was right, you went to Oxford for fun?” Declan was impressed. “And you already have a job lined up prior to graduating. Aren’t you the little overachiever,” he teased, but Rose’s face fell and she took a bite of her sandwich.
He nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, that’s a good thing.”
Rose swallowed and stared out at the mountains. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded so sad he wanted to put his arms around her. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” he mimicked her words from the shop.
Rose let out a heavy sigh and dusted the crumbs off her hands. “No. Not if they don’t like what you're overachieving at.”
Declan weighed his words carefully, aware the subject was touching on something painful for her. “Who?”
“My parents primarily. They don’t understand why I’ve worked so hard to get the position I was offered. Yes, it’s from a family friend, but if I hadn’t killed myself in internships and graduated top of my class, I don’t think he could have just given it to me.”
“Parental expectations can be suffocating.” He knew that better than most.
“My problem is my parents don’t have any expectations of me beyond getting married. They aren’t happy that I have different goals for myself.” She lay back and bent her knees, staring at the sky. “My mother can’t understand why I want a career. In her mind, a woman’s life begins and ends with children. And that’s great if it was what I wanted… It’s what my sister wants, and she’s extremely happy in her life. But it's not what I want.”
“Is it a religious thing?”
She huffed a laugh. “No, that at least would make sense. I suspect it has something to do with Grandma Rose, but my mom won’t talk about it.”
“Grandma Rose, who doesn’t take shit?” His lips quirked.
Rose rolled her eyes, but she turned her head to smile at him. “Yes.”
“What does Grandma Rose, have to do with all of this?”
“My grandmother was a career woman before it was cool.” Declan could hear the pride in Rose’s voice. “Her husband died young, and she had to support my mom. She started out writing copy in an advertising agency, but eventually moved up until she was an executive. She wore the best clothes and always smelled like this expensive French perfume—Wild White Rose. I found it on the internet a few years ago and ordered myself some. I thought my mom was going to cry the first time I wore it—and not because she misses her mother. I don’t wear it at home anymore.”
Declan leaned closer, inhaling. “Is that what you’ve been wearing? I’m a fan.”
Rose nodded. “I feel confident when I wear it. More like myself.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Declan rolled to face her.
“Me. I’m the problem. I think my mother embraced the whole June Cleaver thing because it’s the mom she wished she’d had growing up. She loves to tell me how lucky I am that she is so involved in my life, but what ‘involved’ means to her, feels a lot like control to me.
“My choosing a different path makes her angry, like I’m rejecting her or something. She can’t understand that it’s okay if I want something different than what she chose. I do want kids some day, but I also want a career. I think it’s worse for her because the life I want looks a lot like my Grandmother’s. My mom has never been able to accept who I am. I think part of her actually hates me for being different.”
A tear slipped free, sliding down her cheek, and she swiped at it angrily. “She may not be wrong. People don’t like different. That fear of the dark?”
Declan nodded warily, suddenly afraid of what she would say.
“The one and only time I was invited to a sleepover was in fourth grade. I was the weird, nerd girl in class with no friends. So, when one of the cool girls in my grade, Annabelle Fisher, had a birthday, I was so excited to be invited. I only found out later, from eavesdropping on my parents, that Annabelle’s mom made her invite everyone in the class.”
Rose sniffed, but her eyes had dried. “It was obvious no one wanted me there. After her parents went to sleep, Annabelle suggested we play hide and seek. She told me the best place was the closet in the basement. I went along with it when she said she’d hide there too.” Rose shivered, and Declan had the urge to hunt down a bunch of school-aged girls—even though they’d be adults now.
“Long story short, it was a trick. They shoved me in and locked the door. I didn’t get out until my mom came to get me the next day at lunch.”
Declan’s mouth fell open with horror. “Those little bitches.”
“Hence the fear of the dark.” Rose made a face. “I was convinced there were bugs on me and that I could hear voices. I’ve always had an overactive imagination. It doesn’t happen all the time. I’m not afraid of the dark… exactly… It just pops up when I’m feeling stressed or vulnerable. I’m guessing being black-out drunk in a foreign country qualified for my subconscious.”
“What happened to them… the girls? What did your parents do?”
“Nothing.” Rose sat up and began to put items back in the basket. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
Declan caught her hands. “I’m glad you are. I want to know you. I want to know everything about you.”
She stared at him, the blue of her eyes swirling with something he couldn’t identify. “Will you let me know you too?”
Declan nodded. I’ll try. “But first I want to hear what happened.”
Rose shrugged. “It’s really not that dramatic a story. Annabelle’s parents were mortified. I was teased about it and for being a nerd all through high-school, and my parents told me I should try harder to fit in so that people would like me. Making friends still isn’t something that comes easily to me.”
Declan’s chest ached. “But you won, Petal.”
She frowned.
“You won.” His voice was probably fiercer than appropriate, but he needed her to hear him. “They tried to break you and you kept going. You graduated, got your MBA, attended Oxford, and are about to start a job you are excited about, and you’re only what, twenty-five? Grandma Rose would be so proud. You didn’t take their shit, and you kept going.”
Rose’s lips twisted to the side, but he could see by the light in her eyes his words had gotten through. “Twenty-three, give or take a day.”
Declan stared at her. “You’re only twenty-three?”
She ticked off facts on her fingers. “Early birthday, skipped second grade, didn’t exactly love high school so I graduated early, and then took college classes year round.” She shrugged like she hadn’t just revealed an impressive accomplishment.
“I’m having sex with a child prodigy,” he laughed, only half kidding.
She snorted, rising to her feet. “Not a prodigy, just someone who had a goal.”
Declan reached for her, tugging her back down so that she straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips. Propped up on his arms, he brushed her loose hair back behind her ears. “I think you might be one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met.”
She flushed, the color tinting her porcelain skin. Her head ducked and then lifted to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”
He looked at her quizzically as she planted her hands flat against his chest.
“For listening. For seeing me.”
Warmth filled Declan’s chest, her words hitting him harder than they should. “I’m so glad you got drunk the other night,” he joked, afraid to examine what he was feeling. It felt wonderful and dangerous all at the same time.
Her body shook with laughter, making her hips rock against him, her fingers catching in his T-shirt.
“You are ridiculous, Declan Riordan.” She smiled against his lips, and then hers moved, their soft warmth gliding over his. “You make me feel like I belong just for being me. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that way before.”
“Neither have I,” he murmured as his mouth crushed hers. His lips and teeth soon traveled down her neck and Rose angled her head to give him access to the soft spot just below her jaw that never failed to make her squirm. Her rose perfume filled his nose as he sucked on her neck, his cock turning to stone as she rocked against him.
“Ahem!” A loud voice nearby broke through his lust-filled brain, and Declan turned his head to see an older gentleman with a walking stick glaring at them.
“This is a public place.” The man scowled, as Rose hid her face in his chest.
“Right. Sorry.”
They gathered the rest of their lunch items, and Declan held the basket in front of his jeans. Rose had dissolved into giggles by the time he shut her car door. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, his own sides heaving with laughter.
“I totally forgot where we were,” she wheezed.
As Declan started the car and pulled back onto the narrow two-lane road, it hit him that he had too. When he was with Rose, he felt like a normal twenty-five-year-old, free to make out in public.
He grabbed her hand and held it tight, pulling their clasped hands onto his thigh. She glanced over at him, but he didn’t want to talk. His need to be with her felt like it was on almost a cellular level, and that was terrifying because they only had four days left.