Chapter 6 Declan #2
Still, I can’t shake the niggling feeling that she suspects.
Exactly what she suspects, I have no clue.
But maybe she noticed a glance passing between me and Amelia that we were oblivious to.
Or the gravitational pull that’s impossible to resist. Or maybe she sensed the reason behind my reluctance to keep Amelia here when she first arrived.
But she suggested that I take Amelia shopping, almost as if she were deliberately throwing us together.
Despite my best intentions to focus on work, my mind keeps drifting back to how it felt to spend the night together. Amelia in my arms. Skin on skin. Her warm breath tickling my neck.
It feels as if I’ve known her for a lifetime.
It feels as if my life has been on hold awaiting her arrival.
And yet… The rational part of my brain is telling me that it isn’t real. The age gap. How little we know about each other. The speed with which our worlds have collided. Logically, it all suggests that this is nothing more than a romantic fling.
Lust.
Physical attraction.
And here I am acting like a lovesick teenager.
Amelia knocks on the study door early in the afternoon. She brings me lunch, a sandwich made with thick, crusty slices of homemade bread, honey roast ham, and Orla’s red onion chutney. She sets the plate down on the desk and lingers, rubbing her arm as if she is cold.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asks.
There’s no double entendre. She’s simply asking in her capacity as housekeeper.
But it feels stilted, awkward, and I realize that it’s down to me.
She knows that I’ve been avoiding her since I stole out of her room in the wee hours.
I can see it in her eyes—she’s afraid that I’ve gotten what I wanted and am over it, despite my assurances that she means a whole lot more to me than that.
I stand up, circle the desk, and fold her into my arms.
When we’re apart, it’s easy for me to second-guess my intentions, remind myself that life will go on without her, that there is no future for us as a couple.
But when I hold her like this, I know that I’m lying to myself.
I want her. I want her in my life. I want her to know how happy she makes me feel.
“Sorry I left without waking you up. You looked so peaceful.”
She peers up at me with such … affection, admiration, desire … I know that I can never be responsible for her unhappiness.
“I get it.” She smiles. “I missed you this morning when I woke up and you weren’t there.”
My heart melts for her. This is what I want to hear for the rest of my life. Only I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such joy and pleasure.
“Believe me, I didn’t want to leave you.” I kiss her on the lips.
It isn’t hungry or demanding or insatiable. It isn’t the precursor to wild sex on my study floor. It’s the kiss that chooses my path for me.
“I want to spend every night with you, Amelia, for as long as you’ll have me.”
She blinks. This is the part where she tells me that it’s only sex on her part. That she’s sorry I read too much into it and perhaps it’s best if she finds employment elsewhere after all.
“I’d like that.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “Are we crazy?” She scrunches up her face. “We barely know each other. I haven’t met your sons yet. They might—”
I stop her with a kiss. “Yes, we’re probably crazy, but I don’t care if you don’t care.”
She relaxes against me. “My room or yours later?”
“Mine.” The last marble rolls away, and I don’t even try to bring it back.
Amelia is the only woman who has been in my bed since my wife died. I prop myself up on one elbow in the middle of the night and watch her sleeping. Have I been bewitched by her youth and beauty and sexiness?
Perhaps.
But the truth is, she wants me as much as I want her, and I will never stop being grateful to the universe for bringing her into my life.
I drag myself out of bed, missing her warmth the instant I’m no longer beside her. I pull on my boxers and a robe, and head downstairs to my study. New York is five hours behind Ireland. Ruairi’s meeting with Caleb Murray should be over by now, and I don’t want to disturb Amelia when he calls.
I half-fill a glass with brandy and sit back in my seat.
No messages.
These alliances can’t be rushed. The feud between the Murrays and the Byrnes goes back generations.
We would all benefit from putting the past behind us, but the Murrays might not be prepared to share New York with us as part of the deal.
Still, if anyone can sell the partnership to them it will be Ruairi.
I wait.
I sip my brandy slowly and ponder what having Amelia in my life will mean to me.
Someone to simply be myself with. Not Declan Byrne, Irish mafia boss, just the real Declan Byrne.
A guy who enjoys a brandy in the evening and traditional Irish food.
A guy who is proud of his heritage, who loves being close to the sea and his horses, and would rather be outside, whatever the weather, than inside.
Amelia is a city girl. Can she handle this way of life?
Or would she get homesick for New York? We could split our time between here and the States if it will make her happy.
I wouldn’t even hesitate. I realize that there will be a whole heap of other stuff to consider, but I’ve clearly never lost my faith in happy endings.
It occurs to me then that I’m doing the exact opposite of what I expect from my sons. I’ve encouraged Eoghan to get to know Emily without considering his feelings. It will be a strategic match. An alliance. He’ll grow to love her in time, as I did with Niamh.
But how can I expect him to accept Amelia, a woman six years younger than he is, because I’m infatuated with her?
I check my phone to take my mind off the downward spiral that it would be so easy to slip into. Nothing. I call Ruairi, but it doesn’t connect.
It’s close to midnight in his time zone.
I’m not concerned. He’ll reach out when the meeting is concluded. Regardless of the outcome.
Half an hour goes by. I polish off a second brandy, call him again. Still no answer.
Orla will be rising soon. I don’t want Amelia to wake up alone in my bed. I don’t want her to think that this is how it will be, me living my regular life, while she has to sneak in and out of my room like an intruder.
One last brandy. One more phone call. Then I’ll call it a night, go back to bed, wake Amelia up with my cock on standby, and wait for Ruairi’s call in the morning.
But I don’t make it back to my room.
I’m halfway through my third brandy when I get a call from my brother-in-law. He traveled to the States with my son. Standard procedure, we never travel alone.
Even through the numbness of alcohol, I know this is bad news.
I don’t realize how bad it is until he says the words out loud.
“Ruairi is dead.”