Chapter 4
Declan Buchanan
I lean forward, preparing to rise and follow the two remaining females to the door, but my grandma sends me a cold glare, so I settle back onto the couch.
She closes the door behind Eileen. The lock clicks. Despite the instinctual fear of the little boy trapped inside me, I remain steadfast in my conviction and meet her eyes when she turns around.
I set my palms on my thighs and relax my shoulders. After growing up in an abusive household, her silence used to unnerve me. It reminded me too much of my father’s broken body lying at the bottom of the stairs, but now appreciation flows through me.
She doesn’t demand an explanation, scream obscenities at me, or hit me. Even though she’s half my size and I could crush her with ease—or maybe because of my strength—I don’t dare to so much as tense my muscles.
The curse simmering in my veins will take the smallest amount of fuel and destroy worlds. I will never survive the guilt if I hurt my grandmother.
She settles on the couch across from me and pins me with her all-knowing stare. As the seconds stretch into minutes, I replay our meeting over again in my mind and see the faults in my actions.
Not because they were wrong but because of their rashness.
“My motives are obvious to us both, yes?” my grandmother says.
“Yes, ma’am,” I respond.
“What were your motives?” she asks.
Her interrogations are always terrifyingly direct. I hold her stare and respond without an ounce of doubt in my mind.
“Make Karey Justice mine.”
My grandmother pauses, studies me from head to toe, then leans her elbow on the armrest and props her chin on the heel of her palm.
“That’s a hard switch from your MO,” she states.
“Yes, it is,” I reply.
She taps her finger against her cheek in time with the passing seconds.
One tap. Two. Three.
At the seven second mark, she sits up and places her hands in her lap.
“Your expression is the same as when you told me you were starting your own business and would become a multi-billionaire in less than eight years. You succeeded.” I fight a wave of possessive pride.
My business is mine. I built it from scratch.
As the founder, owner, CEO, and biggest shareholder, it will always be mine.
It doesn’t matter how most other wealthy men view my success—I do not lean on old money, banks, or politics to make my money.
I built my retailer and e-commerce company from the ground up and am proud of the monster it has become today.
“Don’t let that success go to your head, boy,” she scolds.
I curb my knee-jerk reaction—denial—and swallow.
She’s right. One look at Karey and all my defenses fell.
I fill my lungs until they ache, pushing my impatience and stubbornness into the trapped air before letting it out in a slow exhale.
Her arched brow suggests I’m a fool for not doing so earlier. I accept her critique without qualms. She’s right. I’m a fool.
An obsessed fool.
Even now, less than a handful of minutes from my woman’s departure, an itch forms under my skin as though I’m suffering from withdrawals. I may have only held Karey’s hand for a few seconds and been in her presence for only a few minutes, but my entire body craves her.
With my lungs empty, I hold firm until my heartbeat pounds in my ears and my fingertips tingle.
“Do you think your current approach will yield the results you seek?” my grandma asks.
As I inhale and give my body the oxygen it needs, I shove my emotions into the backseat—forcing the wild beast to heel—and let my logical brain take over.
“No, it will not,” I answer.
She nods once then sits as unmoving as a statue.
She has never said it outright, but by the way she disciplines me, she’s made it obvious she was a spy, although for whom or why, I never expect to find out. My mentor is as tight lipped as a human can be.
I learned my silence from her. It’s a finely tuned weapon I enjoy deploying against even the most persistent idiots.
She never demanded I tell her of my life before she took me in, but she read the police reports and ensured I had the best professionals to help me through my darkest days.
Her trust in me alone should have made talking about Karey easy, but I could never force myself to open up and reveal my own youthful ignorance.
After running through my options, I take another deep breath before leaning forward and propping my elbows on my thighs.
“I need your help, Grandmother,” I say.
She quirks a brow, the politest no shit, motherfucker on the planet while lifting her lips in a sweet smile.
Karey’s smiles are sweeter.
As I tell the basics of what happened between Karey and me in middle school, my grandmother gives no hints as to her thoughts, but she doesn’t disappoint in her response.
“You have your work cut out for you, but there’s no point arguing with you when you have that gleam in your eyes. I’ll do what I can, but this is your mess to clean up. Understand?”
“Of course, Grandma.”
She nods, rises with ethereal grace, and strides toward the door.
I pause.
The water bottle Karey drank out of is no longer on the coffee table.
Yes, some sick and twisted part of me intended to take it, which is why I noticed Karey left it behind.
My grandmother was quicker than I was, though, so I follow her out without a word. I don’t know what she intends to do with it, but she’ll no doubt ensure it’s put to good use while I would only use it to feed my obsession.
It’s better my grandmother took it before I hid it away like a creep.
I offer her my arm and usher her through the hall to the front of the building.
After waiting at the valet for longer than I prefer, I help her into the backseat before taking the keys from the driver.
Without a word, I pass him his tip in cash, fully aware it isn’t his fault management is poor, then pull into traffic without a word.
After walking my grandmother to her suite and ensuring she has everything she needs even though she’s fully capable of taking care of herself, I take the back hallway and enjoy a few minutes on the balcony alone.
Despite my great wealth, the penthouse floor is too high profile for my preferences.
I could afford several penthouses, but they attract too much attention.
This building’s top two floors are owned by a fellow multi-billionaire I’ve only met in passing, but the three floors below him have a variety of layouts, so several families and couples reside between us.
I chose the sixth floor from the top and customized the entire level to fit both my and my grandmother’s lifestyles. With balconies on three sides—one for me, one for her, and a massive one along the backside of the building.
I’ve stood in this same spot countless times over the years, but the view has never been as colorful and bright as it is this afternoon, with the neighboring structures gleaming in the sun.
I find myself absently studying the glass railing. Although sturdy, the gap near the bottom is too big and the flat top railing is too reminiscent of a seat. Little minds won’t comprehend the danger of climbing on top.
I freeze as I realize the direction of my thoughts.
The memory of Eileen’s son burying his face in Karey’s bosom reawakens my jealous rage while flooding my heart with yearning.
I want children with Karey. Despite the horrors of my childhood and the curse running in my blood, I want to create my own family with her.
She’s mine. All mine.
I make a mental note of all the changes required on the balcony before striding through the back door to my apartment and punching in my code.
Despite it being the weekend and now late afternoon, I open my laptop and settle in my home office. After filtering through the search options on my company’s internal database, I find Karey’s account.
Everyone likes to act like politicians, oil and gas, and the banks rule the world, but the truth is, companies like mine have all the control. Super successful companies like mine expand every day.
Karey has utilized my AI healthcare program. I grit my teeth as I study her purchase history.
After making a few less-than-legal arrangements, I return to her main account to retrieve her address, only to pause.
Her latest order, which was bought yesterday, went to a new address. I save both locations on my phone and copy the rest of her personal information before opening a second window and creating new hidden rules for her account.
My neck spasms. I check the time and sigh.
It’s been years since I’ve personally dealt with coding, so my skills are weak, but I refuse to involve anyone else in my devious dealings, especially since it involves my woman’s privacy.
When I reach forward to press the X on my touchscreen to close the window, a notification pops up on my phone.
Karey used the same credit card she has on her account to book a room at a hotel.
On my way to said hotel—because there’s no scenario on this godforsaken planet I could not go when I’m aware of her presence—I plan every step in silence. Heading toward the hotel can be my only knee-jerk reaction. Everything from here on out must be meticulous and well thought out.
I bribe the front desk, pay for the rooms on either side of Karey’s, and pay the security officers enough to ensure their eagerness to help.
After confirming Karey entered her room alone and handing the guards another wad of cash with instructions to call my room if anyone visits her, I take the elevator up to my temporary lodgings.
Even though the insulated wall prevents me from hearing her, just knowing she’s nearby calms the raging beast in my soul.
I’ll make Karey Justice mine, no matter what it takes.