Page 30 of Declan

That’s how I ended up with Jessica.

She’s only a few years older than me, and originally, she came onto the scene as a singer, much like myself. Then one day, in the middle of a bunch of asinine bullshit, she decided she didn’t want to sing; she wanted to manage. And she didn’t have to ask me twice.

That was the first time in my career I put my foot down and exercised my right to decide who I surrounded myself with, and there was a considerable amount of outrage when I started weeding out my team.

Of course, the fact that the first person I fired was my own mother was not lost on many people, and her being a professional victim, she did her best to throw the blame on that ‘evil, no-good bitch’ Jessica.

That was when my career really took off. I started cutting all that deadweight and started making creative decisions for myself. Jessica went back to school for entertainment management and law, and we were off and running.

The only deadweight left was Bobby.

Exhilaration runs up my spine at the thought that I may actually be free from that asshole.

A choking whimper escapes my lips, and Declan’s hand moves to mine. He doesn’t attempt to pull my hand from my lap, he just rests his larger one on top of both of mine, a reassuring weight that has my eyes burning, and I clear my throat, shaking a little.

He says nothing. He remains like that with his hand on top of mine, and once again, I have to question everything I thought I knew about him.

Half an hour later, we exit our plane, only to immediately get on a much smaller plane.

I don’t bother asking where we’re going because I know he’s not going to answer, so instead, I snag the window seat and watch the beauty unfold. I’ve taken my fair share of vacations, but wherever we are is truly paradise on earth. Crystalline waters and white sandy beaches. It’s breathtaking.

It’s a short flight to our destination, and we land on a small airstrip, where a club car is waiting for us.

We end up at a building resembling a fancy thatched hut, and I’m genuinely surprised at the simplicity of it. I would’ve guessed Declan would opt for something more lavish and larger, but it appears that’s not the case.

We walk up onto the small patio area and enter what looks like a living room. The space is certainly large enough for two people but only suitable for those who don’t mind being in close quarters together. Of course, as he already stated, it doesn’t matter if I mind; we’re gonna be in close quarters together.

I make my way through each room and eventually end up in a bedroom where I stop and frown. I turn to Declan, who has been following me, and ask, “Where is the other bedroom, Declan?”

He raises an eyebrow at me and shrugs. “Apparently, there isn’t one.”

My frown deepens, and I cross my arms over my chest. “This isn’t funny, Declan. You can’t expect me to sleep with you.”

“Well, I most certainly do expect my wife to sleep with me.” He smiles and laughs softly.

I open my mouth to retort, but he puts his hand up to stop me as he continues, “But I’ll have you know that I’m not the one who booked this resort. That was your good friend Jessica.”

I pull my phone out and scurry around to connect to the Wi-Fi, then send her a text, asking her what the ever-loving-hell she was thinking. She responds immediately, and I glare at my phone and then back up at Declan and he asks, “What?”

“She said she didn’t book it.”

“Well, then who the hell did?”

I take a deep breath in through my nose, then exhale slowly through my mouth, and then reply, “Antoinette.”

He cocks his head in confusion, frowning briefly before his frown shifts, and he laughs loudly. “Well, that makes perfect sense.”

“Makes sense how?”

He closes the distance between us until he’s standing beside me, smiling as he replies, “You don’t know Antoinette that well, but one thing you should know about her is she loves romance novels. Loves them. She will trope you to death if given the slightest opportunity. That’s what this is.”

I must have a puzzled look on my face because he adds, “I’m sure the amount of romance tropes she has found fitting our situation is astronomical. We probably could make a game out of it.”

“So, this is a rock star romance?”

He laughs again, touching my arm lightly as he asks, “You know your tropes?”

“The basic ones, sure. But I can’t imagine what she thinks is going to happen here.”

---