Page 7 of Declan

But in my defense, some people naturally require a little more oversight than others, and I’m doing my due diligence to see if that motherfucker is acting as shitty as my last impression of him would indicate.

Sure, installing cameras throughout her properties may have been going a little too far. But honestly, how am I supposed to get an idea of what kind of fucking douchebag this guy is if I can’t get a look into his daily activities to see how he treats my woman?

I also have to rush this a bit because, apparently, their wedding date has been moved up, and I have to find a way to put a stop to that before attaining my goal becomes more complicated than it already is.

So far, they haven’t been home at the same time very often, hence why I put cameras in all of their properties. One thing I do know is he puts on a good show in public, but as soon as that door shuts behind them, he turns into a snake.

He hasn’t done anything so far that was too threatening or else I would’ve busted down the door already, but things aren’t looking good for him and his future because it’s only a matter of time before he crosses a line that I have to bodily throw him back across.

Watching her comings and goings is my new favorite hobby, and having access to these video feeds at all times means I’m never too far away.

I’m fortunate to have connections that can take care of these types of delicate processes quickly, efficiently, and quietly. My big brother, Darius, is kind of a shit for brains about all the tech stuff, but his friend Matt sure knows his shit. I ignore the fact that he’s actually a man of the law because this also means that he has a better point of view on how best to get away with illegal shit.

That being said, I’m sure if I ask him to wire up one more property, he might question my motives, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

My notification pings, letting me know someone has entered her main residence in Malibu. This is the smallest of her properties, but the one she seems to enjoy spending the most time in because she loves the beach and the fact it’s a little further out from the main drag of Los Angeles.

I pull up my security app and put my headphones in my ears so I can listen to the audio. The first thing I hear is that blowhard’s fucking voice, and it makes my skin crawl.

Of course, he’s acting like a douchebag, so I do some of those breathing exercises recommended by my therapist. Of course, they don’t work because no amount of deep breathing is going to change the fact that I fucking hate that douchebag and the tone in which he is choosing to use withmywoman pisses me off.

I turn the volume up so I can make out her responses, and then they must move closer to the mic because she says clearly, “No. You’ve always known I want to wait. Why you’re pushing this now makes no sense, considering we’re getting married in a few days.”

“Come on, Issa. Don’t you think you’ve dragged it out long enough? What’s the difference between me getting it now or in a few days? I’m still going to get it.”

There’s silence for a few moments, and then she replies, “And why are you suddenly so intent on getting it now? What’s waiting a few more days at this point?”

More silence follows, and I’m confused over what they’re referring to. Then he snarls, “Well, I never had any stipulations that I had to marry a fucking virgin, so waiting a couple days doesn’t mean shit to me.”

My eyes widen, and I lean closer to my screen as if that’s gonna make it so I can hear better.

The fact that he just insinuated that my woman is still a virgin has my interest piqued for sure. Those two have been together for a couple of years, and if I was a betting man, which I am, I’d sure as shit bet that he’s been stepping out on her on the regular.

Then she says, “You know what? Maybe it’s best if you leave now. Instead of us having one night apart before the wedding, we can have a couple, and then you won’t be so tormented by my virgin status.”

More silence follows, and I look closely at the screen to make sure they haven’t moved their position in the house, but they’re still in the same spot as before. She’s looking at him with her eyebrows raised, and he’s glaring at her, but after a few moments, he laughs and walks over to her, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him. “You know I’m just messing with you, Issa baby. I don’t know why you gonna get so mad.”

She’s tense under his arm, her expression wary, and when she doesn’t respond, he gives her a little squeeze and continues, “But I think I will give you some space. Allow you to enjoy your last few days as an unmarried woman.”

It appears as if she’s attempting to shrug him off, but he squeezes her tighter, and finally, she stills and looks at him wide-eyed, an odd mixture of sadness and fear in her features that has me breaking out in a sweat. I grind my teeth together because that is not how a bride should be looking at her groom days before their wedding.

Something obviously isn’t right.

He leans close and nuzzles her ear, then whispers something I can’t make out, but the expression on her face becomes grim, and her complexion pales. He laughs almost creepily, and it sends a shiver down my spine as he places an open-mouth kiss on her mouth that she doesn’t reciprocate.

He squeezes her even more tightly, and her mouth falls open, more in pain than in any type of desire to have his tongue between her lips.

It’s bad enough having to watch his hands on her when she appears to want it to happen, but this is fucking unbearable.

He laughs again and releases her, and she stands there rooted to the spot as he pats her on the ass and then walks out of the room, whistling.

I follow him on the cameras as he makes his way down the hallway to the entryway, where he stops next to the little table where she keeps her purse and keys. He checks out his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall there, smirking in self-satisfaction before turning away and continuing down the hallway.

He continues whistling as he walks out the door.

I switch back to the living room, where Issa was last standing. She’s still in the same exact spot she was, but now she’s kneeling, her palms placed on the floor in front of her, the agony on her face palpable, even through the screen.

She’s not crying; no tears streak her face, but she’s making an animalistic sound of frustration in the back of her throat.

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