Page 34 of Declan

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to, Declan. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid,” I reply with exasperation. “I’m just not sure how to explain him at this point. It’s quite complicated.”

“It’s only as complicated as you make it.”

“Oh, okay. So, I should’ve said that my brother is a kingpin of an extensive criminal network that focuses on disbanding human trafficking rings and general vigilante fuckery?”

She tilts her head at me as if she’s considering my words. Then she laughs and pats me on the arm. “If that’s the truth, then yes, that’s what you should’ve said. You can’t go lying to your wife on the very first day.”

My wife.

She says the words flippantly, but she has no idea what those words do to me. She doesn’t give me time to respond, immediately asking, “What about your friends?”

“What friends?” I answer easily.

She frowns, takes another sip of her drink, and then shakes her head. “You must have friends, Declan. You’re a friends kind of guy.”

“I had friends once upon a time, but we outgrew each other, and I haven’t had time to find new ones.”

She frowns, and leans toward me slightly as she asks, “What happened?”

“My priorities shifted, and they weren’t interested in shifting with me. So, I cut them loose.”

“Shifted how?”

I sigh, not keen on speaking of it, but also knowing lying to her would be stupid, especially since I just got done telling her I would never lie to her. “I had just reconnected with my brother after a long period of no contact. Of course, he came with a whole entourage—a whole new family he had procured for himself over the years, and I knew if I wanted to be part of his family again, I’d have to make a lot of serious changes. And that’s what I did.”

She eyes me thoughtfully, then places her hand on my leg, patting me gently as she says, “That’s a lovely story, Declan. And incredibly mature for a man notorious for making poor choices at every whim.”

I narrow my eyes at her but say nothing, and she winks at me, turning to the plates of food the bartender has set in front of us. I remain quiet as she chatters to me, to the bartender, to anyone and everyone nearby who’ll listen.

She shares the array of drinks with me, pulling all the plates closer to her and feeding me from her own hand as if she doesn’t even realize how intimate her actions are.

And I don’t tell her.

13

Proving It

Declan

We’vebeenontheisland for two days, enjoying each other’s company and learning new things about each other. We’ve gone on several outdoor excursions, the highlight being a swim with humpback whales, her excitement evident in the series of images on my phone.

I’ve managed to keep my hands off her, mostly, with only a few instances of innocent touches that likely came off as unintentional to her.

We manage to share a bed without any type of ill-effects, even though my urge to hump her in the middle of the night is excruciating. That hasn’t stopped me from pulling her in close and wrapping myself around her as she sleeps, and she hasn’t pushed me away, complained, or attempted to seek out her own space.

I’m relaxing in the living area, sporting a mild headache, likely from dehydration, when Issa’s voice breaks through the silence, her annoyance more than clear in her tone. “Declan!”

I rest my head back on the sofa, closing my eyes as I call out, “Yes?”

Soft footfalls get closer, and then her voice is beside me. “How the hell did these images get on my social media?”

“I sent them to Jessica, and she posted them.”

“I didn’t authorize this,” she sputters angrily.

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