Chapter 66 #2
“I can’t believe your team is doing such a large deal when crypto is bottoming out,” G says. It’s definitely a dig.
“There’s so much money on the sidelines right now. It’s time to make a move,” Declan deflects. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll be around.”
Gideon is immediately the center of attention, with people congratulating him on the Harris Ventures deal from a few months ago and asking him how it’s going. I stand by his side, feeling lost in another type of industry jargon. This time, it’s startup rather than finance.
“Dani,” Declan calls out. “Help me plate the first course?”
I nod. Relieved a bit to leave the conversation about how much a company’s revenue should be factored into valuations.
Following him into the kitchen, I quip, “No open floor plan for you?”
He smiles. “I like the vintage charm of this place.”
I agree. This home is incredible. It’s obviously expensive—it’s a four-story home in the Gold Coast, but nothing about it feels over-the-top or flashy.
“Here,” he says, handing me sparkling water from the fridge. “You look like shit.” I scoff, yet I am staring into his big blue eyes for too long. “Well, for you …” he hesitates. “Compared to most, you’re still a ten.”
No. Why? Why fucking today? I sip the sparkling water, frozen by this comment. What did I do to deserve all of this today? Gideon, Adam, and now Declan. All I need is Sorin to pop out of the woodwork at this point. I take another sip of the water, trying to remain steady.
“Can you garnish the salads?” he asks as he finishes portioning out each one onto dinnerware.
“Look at you and your porcelain china,” I tease, not acknowledging his flirtation. “You didn’t want to hire a caterer or some help for this party?”
“I’m not like that,” he says, leaning on the kitchen island. “I prefer to do the work myself.”
I nod, considering if I hosted a dinner party, I’d rather do it myself too.
“Have you heard from Harris Ventures lately?” he asks.
“It’s been really quiet on that front.” Well, outside of Adam’s little present today.
He nods. “You didn’t hear this from me …” he says, and I look up from putting carrot slices on the salads. “You’ve been iced out.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re no longer a preferred vendor.”
I sip the water again, thinking about how this is what happens when you stop sleeping with a powerful man … he wields his power against you. Understanding why business has slowed and why clients have decided not to renew, I look back at the salads and continue the little task.
Adam is trying to provoke me into talking to him. It’s all a fucking little game to him. My mind replays him saying, “Why do you need money?” And then pointing at himself from a past conversation.
“Everyone here tonight could use some PR support in one way or the other,” Declan says after a silent minute.
“That’s the only reason I’m here,” I say, looking at him.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he says, holding my gaze.
“You said no,” I shoot back.
“I didn’t say no,” he firmly says, and his blue eyes lock so intensely with mine.
“What did you say then?” I retort, although I remember it perfectly.
“I said ‘when’ … and it’s clearly not that time yet. You’re hungover and smell like whiskey.”
“Please stop talking.”
Fortunately, he does, and I glance around the room. I bet Declan cooks a lot. He has the same appliances that were in Maverick, and the layout is similar but on a smaller scale. It’s still a really large kitchen for a home.
“After you saw Gideon and me at the gym …” I pause, but I need to know if he said something to Adam.
“Was I fucking pissed? Yes,” Declan says, not looking up from his task.
“Who cares—Declan Kruk or Adam Black?” I snap back and internally scold myself about the flirty tone.
“I figured you would put it together when you came over tonight.”
Looking at him, he’s just perched against the island, staring at me, being fucking tall and gorgeous. “Why did you use a fake name?”
“Many reasons.”
“Please, be more vague.”
“Before I left the family business, it was my name for everything—reservations, deliveries. It was a layer of security.”
“Makes sense,” I say, artfully adding slices of carrot to each salad, enjoying this little project. It’s a needed distraction from the intensity of our every interaction.
“I—” he hesitates, and I look up from the task, curious. “I thought you would call me … after Adam.”
He’s going to drop a bomb on me like this—before dinner. I did think about calling him. But I couldn’t. “You could have called.”
“The way Adam still talks about you. I didn’t realize … Was it around his birthday?”
“I broke up with him in November … but it wasn’t like done, done until after his birthday.”
“Because of Gideon?”
So he did see Gideon leave the bathroom at the party. “There are many reasons.” I look up at him. “After the gym, did you tell Adam you saw me and Gideon?”
“No.”
I look back at the salads.
“What?” he asks in a concerned growl.
“I don’t know how he knows … And he’s being crazy now.”
“What do you mean?” He walks closer to me.
“I’d rather not talk about it with you,” I softly say.
We hold a stare, and then he asks, “Are you happy with Gideon?”
“Before yesterday …”
He shakes his head, and I’m transported back to our conversation from last October when Adam left me at a restaurant to go work, and Declan walked me home.
“You learned something you didn’t like yesterday?”
I nod, not wanting to talk about it because, obviously, telling Declan it’s about drugs is only going to have one reaction, and I don’t want to feel stupid.
He shakes his head. “Why don’t you want to be happy?”
What did I do to deserve this fucking day?
“Why do you think you can talk to me like this?” I ask, raising my voice. I cannot ever have a conversation with him and not feel frustrated.
He hesitates. “Because I care about you.”
Gideon walks in just then. His silence only adds to the tension. “Need another hand?” he finally asks.
“Could you tell everyone to take a seat?” Declan says.
Gideon’s eyes are questioning me before he leaves the kitchen.
“I bet whatever you two were fighting about yesterday wouldn’t be an issue if we were together.”
“Excuse me?”
“What would be so terrible about us?” Declan asks, pulling me by the hips into him. “What would be so terrible about you never drinking again?”
My heart rate surges.
“I could kiss you if …” he softly says, staring at me. Declan’s hands squeeze my hips, and I audibly inhale.
Fight, flight, or freeze? My brain wants to do all three.
A hand slides up my body until his thumb is under my chin, pressing it up. The fiery eye contact between us blazes. I’m transported to a memory and a familiar feeling: how much I liked his hand sliding up my thigh almost six years ago.
I want to do it—kiss him.
A tear falls down my face. I’m overwhelmed. Today has been too much. “Stop.” I pant, and his hands fall back to his side. I wipe the tear away and feel my heart nearly beating out of my chest.
“You need to give yourself to me first … and be sober.”
That sanctimonious fucking face. Rolling my eyes, I leave the kitchen, upset with myself for being turned on and letting him cross that line.