11. Declan
11
DECLAN
N ot pregnant.
I took my seat and breathed through the annoyance Cara’s answer gave me. I was more irritated than I was disappointed. Since I’d only fucked her that one time, I knew better than to get my hopes up too high. I wanted to assume that I could hit a streak of beginner’s luck with her. That we’d have a child after the first try, but even I knew how unlikely that would have been.
Now we have to try again.
After the troubling, long days I’d had, I was peeved that I couldn’t have a little bit of good news here. I didn’t intend to stay in the city like that, but business called. Duty waited. I couldn’t spend all my time here with my dick in her pussy. Dad expected me to bring him an heir, but the businesses the Sullivan name stood behind also required my leadership.
I glanced at Cara as she sat across from me. Stiff. Lips pursed. Eyes glittering with green rage. I didn’t know everything about my wife, but I was familiar with her sass and stubbornness. She was a fighter—especially against me—and I didn’t doubt that she wasn’t pleased that I’d returned. She wanted as little to do with me as possible. That was a given.
Too fucking bad. I’d be slamming into her cunt within the hour, but even that sounded like a chore. I was exhausted mentally and physically from all I had to do in a day and night of work. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her being prickly and defensive with me. I’d told her what I needed. I explained that she was only my wife to be knocked up.
Most times, the fight turned me on. Docile women didn’t do anything for me. Nothing at all. I wanted a challenge to overcome, a strong spirit to conquer. But not now. Not today.
The idea of corralling her in the bedroom felt like a chore. Another job to do when I already had so much on my plate. All I wanted after being up for the last day and night straight was to sleep and not be bothered by anyone or anything.
“Hi, Cara,” Ian said as he entered the dining room, nodding at her before taking his seat.
She lifted her face, her spoon held midair as she stared at him. “Hello?”
Ian chuckled. Glancing between us. “What? I can’t greet my sister-in-law?”
“Oh.” Cara took a spoonful. “Sorry. Not sorry.”
I glared at her.
“I haven’t spoken to anyone in days. I forgot how communication works.”
Ian bit his lip, raising his brows as he looked at me. “And is there good news…?”
“She’s not pregnant,” I bit out.
“ She is right here.” She mocked a sheepish smile. “Oh, sorry. Am I to be a mute prisoner and welcome you speaking for me at all times? My bad.”
“Enough with the fucking attitude.”
She smirked, not making eye contact as she continued to eat.
“Wow. Sorry I was late,” Ian said, clearly seeking a way to avoid this terseness between me and my wife. He was born with that innate, so-called charm that I saw as a waste of time. “I just wanted to check on Dad first.”
“Your dad?” Cara lifted her gaze to him. “He’s here?”
Ian nodded. “Didn’t you know?”
“Is that why the upper floor is locked?” she asked.
“What’s it to you?” I growled. “He doesn’t need to be bothered. The only thing you can do for this family is get pregnant.”
“I am aware,” she snapped.
“You didn’t know Dad lived here?” Ian asked, then glanced at me.
I shrugged. I didn’t know what Frank and Tom showed her. The guards might not have tried to give her a tour of the whole place. Maybe Dad told them to fuck off and not to have any visitors. It hardly mattered to me.
“It seems meeting my new family isn’t necessary,” she quipped.
“It’s not.” I gestured at Ian. “He’s my brother. And that’s all you need to know. What is necessary is your making a family.”
“Gosh.” She deadpanned at me, tilting her head to the side. “With that sweet charisma and appeal you’ve got going for you, I’m shocked you haven’t knocked up half of the women in all of Ireland yet.”
I pressed my lips together. Frustration welled within me, but I couldn’t look away. She captivated me. Pushing me—pushing her luck in doing so. And fuck if it didn’t emphasize how damn gorgeous she was. Barbed tongue and all. She looked alive and heated, riled up to talk back like this.
Like it gave her a thrill. Her words were intended to irk me, but she had no clue how cutting her comment was. I didn’t give a shit about charming a woman, but I had tried twice to keep a wife.
“And you’re the lucky winner of them all,” I snarled.
“Luck.” She snorted. “Is that what I’m supposed to thank for this imprisonment?”
Ian cleared his throat. Loudly. “Speaking of families.” He shot me a look to shut up. “What do you know about yours?”
Once more, she froze, holding her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
“What do you know about your family?” Ian asked.
I narrowed my eyes, wondering why she’d be so stiff about his question.
“My father?” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “You saw him. You know him.”
“You’re not close to him,” I surmised.
“Never,” she agreed. “He sent me and Mom packing when she learned she was pregnant with me. I seldom ever saw him.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because he’s a whiny asshole? Selfish and manipulative?”
Interesting. “Is that what your mother told you?”
“She didn’t need to tell me. I saw that for myself when I was a child and as an adult.”
“Your mom, Nora, just took off with you?” Ian checked.
Cara nodded, and the motion loosened another strand of her auburn hair. As she tucked it back, the simple wedding band glinted from the chandelier’s light. “Yes. I think she realized that he was affiliated with the Mob and wanted to run from him. He kicked her out anyway, wanting to date Keira, and they married.”
“You were estranged your whole life?” I asked.
She smirked. “Oh, you care?”
I glowered right back. “No.”
“We never saw him, other than one time when I was a teen and I was hurt and needed medical care not available in our village. She went to the city to demand that he pay for my medical care. It was the only time she ever asked anything of him.”
Ian and I shared a look.
So, she was poor. Whatever life she led with Nora was one of poverty.
“And Shane stepped up then?” Ian asked.
Cara nodded. “Mom threatened to tell Keira that he was still talking to her, to make her think he was cheating on her. Keira always seemed so obsessed about fidelity, like she worried that my dad would stray.”
“What do you know about your mother, though?” Ian asked.
He hadn’t found much in the way of answers about Nora’s parents or family history. Until we could prove that rumor about her being related to the Boyles was untrue, it would linger as yet another issue for me to deal with.
Again, she seemed on edge, scowling at him. “Why do you want to know?”
“I mean, did you ever meet your grandparents?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Mom was orphaned. Left on the steps at a church and raised in the system.”
Shit. That would make it much harder to find out whether she was related to the Boyles. Leaving the genealogy research to Ian was preferred, but if it came down to meeting someone and beating them into giving answers, that task would fall on me.
“Why do you ask?” Cara replied, tense.
“Because it was a surprise at the last fucking minute that Murray expected me to marry you, not your stepsister.”
She laughed once, bitterly. “Yeah. News to me, too.”
Why’d you go through with it? After Frank gave me her phone, I scrolled back to see what text she could have received that day, when she tried to climb over the garden wall. Unfortunately, she’d deleted it. She’d wiped the whole damn device, actually, and I wondered what she could be hiding to be that eager to erase her correspondence and message logs.
I sighed, annoyed that she was taxing me with more questions, more headaches.
It didn’t matter why she married me. Her motivations wouldn’t change anything. All that I cared about was that she was my wife to knock up.
Ian and I spoke further about business, but we were both careful to keep it simple and undetailed. Cara couldn’t be a spy for anyone. She was sequestered here and wouldn’t be leaving. She had no means to speak with anyone either, but this was the nature of our lives. Never share anything that could be used as a weapon later. We passed the rest of the dinner by conversing about the estate grounds, and I noticed how little Cara seemed to care.
If she was listening, she didn’t find anything worthy of a reaction. If she was waiting for a moment to speak up and complain, I wouldn’t give her my attention.
Sullen and broody, she sat there and picked at her food.
Ian stood, taking a call and nodding at me as he left the room. I doubted he’d return, and I didn’t plan to linger, anyway. Now that I’d stopped to actually sit down for more than a few minutes, on the go and busy all week, I would get sleepier. The drinks I’d had over the meal would make me even more eager to sleep.
But first…
I tossed my napkin to the table and sighed as I dragged my gaze to my wife.
She stiffened, realizing my concentration was on her. Without making eye contact, she tensed and waited for me to speak or move.
I didn’t do a damn thing. Looking at her and wishing she could ease up on this independent, recalcitrant bullshit, I sighed again.
Then she tipped her chin up, locking her flinty stare on me.
No. She was not going to make this fucking easy. Even though she knew what was expected of her, she had to be stupid and think she had any say in this.
“Let’s go.”
She curled her lip in disgust and rolled her eyes. “I’m not done eating.”
“Tough shit. Maybe you shouldn’t be so picky.” I pushed my chair back.
“I’m not picky . That lady just brought this out.”
That lady? I almost laughed, amused. She was so uncultured that she didn’t know to call Pauline a maid ? I doubted Cara had been raised with wealth, but I didn’t realize she was this out of touch with the lifestyle I was used to.
“Eat after.” I stood, glowering down at her.
With a heavy exhale, she shook her head and dropped her napkin to the table.
I admired her tenacity. She wasn’t fighting me for the hell of it. Her antagonism wasn’t a show for attention or to look like she was strong. This woman, this curvy yet slender redhead, was a fighter no matter what.
“The front door again?” she growled, annoyed.
That’s enough. I grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the stairs to my room. “Cut that shit out. I’m sick of your attitude.”
“Sick of it?” She scoffed. “How can you be sick of any of me? You’re not here to remember I’m alive.”
Alive. While my first two wives are dead? She couldn’t know what her words could mean to me, but I took offense anyway.
“Shut up. I don’t need to hear you say another fucking word.”
She didn’t stop her attempts to pull of out my grip, and I locked my fingers tighter on her as I directed her up the stairs with me.
“I can walk , goddammit.”
Reaching the doors to my wing, I slammed my free hand against the wood and opened them. Dragging her in, I relished her helplessness to overpower me. She was mine to fuck and do with as I pleased.
She grunted, scowling as I hauled her inside and released her.
Stumbling back, she glared at me and rubbed her wrist. “I hate you. I hate that I ever considered this deal.”
“What?” I locked the doors, working on unbuttoning my shirt as I stalked toward her, forcing her closer to my bed.
“I hate what I had to give up for this fucking deal,” she muttered, biting out the quiet, heated words as she watched my hands on my shirt.
“What the fuck are you mumbling about?” I shoved her shoulder, pushing her onto the bed.
“Nothing.” She crawled back on the bed, and I reached for the waistband of her jeans.
Chasing a woman was half the fun—sometimes. Right now, I wanted her to crawl to me, to bend over for me.
“What deal ?” I demanded, sliding my fingers under the waistband.
She clamped her lips shut, seething as she stayed still. Quiet and unmoving. I didn’t give a fuck whether she wanted to be an active participant in making a baby with me. It would happen one way or another.
But I’d be damned if she talked in riddles and tried to keep me in the dark.
A deal? What, the one she made with me in the courtyard, that if she wasn’t pregnant by a half a year, she could leave?
I looked her over, reminded by the sight of her sexy body that I’d never give up this possession.
Or is she talking about something else?
“What deal?”
“Nothing,” she snapped.
Liar. I was sick of her sass, tired of fighting her when I had so many things going on.
I didn’t react in anger, though.
I grinned.
I’d fuck the answers out of her. She wouldn’t keep me in the dark about anything. Not when I was the one in control here. Just like I always would be.
Cara Gallagher—now Sullivan—would not beat me in this game.