Page 44 of Declan

Accusations and Insinuations

Declan

We’vebeenbackfromour Tahitian honeymoon for a week, dividing our time between her beach house and my secure estate, easily falling into a routine of companionable cohabitation with intermittent carnal dalliances that leave me sated while also ravenous.

After our interlude on the beach, we spent the rest of our honeymoon taking turns driving each other over the edge.

We also found the time to get to know each other in less physically intimate ways, and she managed to shock me on more than one occasion with the number of things no one would ever guess about her.

For example, the woman can rap.

She challenged me to a rap battle and cleaned the floor with me in a matter of minutes.

She doesn’t watch full movies. She watches clips of the grand gestures because she doesn’t care how they got there; she just wants that one moment, rinse and repeat.

She also inadvertently let it slip that Bobby had incriminating footage about someone she was close to, which leads me to the believe she was only ever with him to protect someone else.

And I know the only someone she loves enough to protect is Jessica, but I didn’t press her on it. I played dumb and let her keep talking without bringing attention to the fact she told me more than she realized.

By the time we got back, my houseguests had gone home, but the construction of Flora’s play structure is almost complete, which means they’ll need to come back to try it out. She has been video calling me daily for updates, which means my evil plan to force them to visit me regularly is working. If nothing else, Tony Andersen cannot withstand the emotional manipulations of his little girl, and yes, I will use that fact to my advantage at every turn.

We’ve just finished brunch when Issa’s phone pings, and she glances at it, the expression on her face quickly changing into one of distress as she reads whatever is on her screen. Then, a choking sound falls from her lips as I ask, “What? What is it?”

Her eyes fly to mine, wide with shock. “Bobby.”

My eyes narrow as I ask, “What about him?”

She glances back down at her phone, her knuckles white as her grip tightens. I walk over to her, pulling the phone from her hand as she whispers, “He’s dead.”

I freeze, her phone in my hand and my eyes on hers as I say, “Excuse me?”

She motions to her phone, stuttering, “I—I-it’s on the news. Read it.”

I flip her phone so I can see the screen, and sure enough, there’s a headline that Bobby was found dead at a shitty house in LA the day before. I scowl at the screen, annoyed that he’s interfering with my wedded bliss already.

Even in death, he’s an inconsiderate, selfish fucking asshole.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asks quietly, and I turn my attention back to her as I place her phone on the table.

“What is there for me to say?”

She stares at me, shock still evident on her features as she asks, “Why would he be in that area of the city?”

“How the fuck would I know?” I ask impatiently. “Maybe he had a drug problem?”

She shakes her head. “Bobby was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a drug addict.”

I shrug dismissively and sigh. “Well, your guess is probably better than mine.”

Her lips curls, and she snarls as she mutters, “Yeah, right.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Issa?”

“Oh, you know,” she hisses. “It’s mighty convenient that the man who stood in the way of you having me is dead.”

I laugh. I know it’s a tactical error at this point, but I just can’t help myself at the preposterousness of her accusation. I’m also greatly offended. “Listen here, doll face,” I say seriously. “If I wanted Bobby dead, he’d be dead, but I can fucking assure you, his body would never be found.”

She raises her brows at me, her hands fisting at her sides as she says, “So, you admit you wanted him dead?”

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