Page 40 of Stolen Sun

“See something you like?” He asks, amused.

My eyes snap back to his. I bite my lips together and giggle, knowing I deserve to be called out for gawking at him.

“Come on. Time to eat,” he says, reaching for my hand.

My eyes bulge. Now it’s his turn to laugh.

“Coffee?” He asks, pulling me down the hall.

“God, yes!”

He pours me a steaming cup and offers me a seat at the bar. While I sip the coffee, he sets to work making breakfast. I’m halfway through my coffee when he sets a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me.

“Thank you.”

“Mmhm,” he says as he turns around to get napkins, giving me a full view of his back.

The majority of his back is covered in ink. A demon wing on one side and an angel wing on the other are both wrapped in a chain that is attached to an exposed spine under ripped flesh.

He turns to hand me a napkin, noticing that I was staring but doesn’t say anything. He sits on the barstool next to mine and begins to eat. He finishes quickly and puts his dishes in the sink.

I set my fork down on my plate just as Declan rounds the bar, stopping when he gets to me. He grabs the legs of my barstool just below the seat, sliding it out so I’m now facing him. Then he opens my knees to place himself between my legs. He slides a hand up my leg, but his fingertips stop once he has them just inside my shorts.

Licking his lips, he tilts my chin up with one finger and gently kisses me.

“I have something to show you,” he says, releasing my leg before turning and walking away.

He leads me back into his office and walks over to his desk. Pulling an image up on the monitor, he gestures with his hand for me to take a look. It's an image of two men in my bedroom. This must be from my surveillancedrive.

“I don’t recognize them.”

“Not surprising. Whoever is behind it most likely hired help. What do you know about Isaiah Canton’s business?”

I stare at him, confused.

“Anything?”

“Isaiah doesn’t work. He’s a spoiled boy in a grown man’s body living off his daddy’s money.”

“He’s the heir to Cordeliers. He’s been running the club for the past five years since his dad retired.”

“No,” I breathe out. “You’re mistaken. Isaiah hasn’t worked a day in his life.” Even as I say the words, they feel wrong. Something terrible dawns on me. Something Isaiah’s date had said the last time we went out with him—something about a club.

“Isaiah approached me a few years ago wanting help with his books in exchange for a membership.”

“Nate never mentioned any of this. He couldn’t have known,” I say in disbelief. “Wait. When I asked you if you were a member, you said no.”

“Actually, I said ‘fuck no’,” he corrects.

“Why didn’t you join?” I ask even though I’m afraid to know the answer.

“What’s important right now is figuring out how you managed to inherit part ownership of Cordeliers and not find out that it’s Isaiah’s,” he says, avoiding my question.

Declan looks unfazed by this entire conversation, leaned back in his office chair, while I’m on the verge of losing my shit.

“I don’t have the slightest clue. I didn’t even know this club existed until last week, and Isaiah’s name wasn’t on that paperwork.”

Mybrain is struggling to process everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours, and I’m desperately fighting against the idea that Nate had such a secret.

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