The Exes Protocol

35. Iris

“Perfect. And don’t forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician.” The doctor gives me one last look before handing Iris the discharge paperwork. “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Kane.”

“Will you help me with this?” She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I huff as I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. “Well, at least that didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I’m sure you’re dying to get back to work.”

That’s the scary thing. I didn’t think about my job once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I’ve spent the past fourteen years of my life thinking solely about work, and all it took was one woman to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn’t scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else. It’s the same reason I feel an urge to push Cal away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You care about her.

Fuck.

The first stop after dropping Iris off at the office is my father’s townhouse. His assistant let me know he took the rest of the day off due to an “unforeseen illness,” so it’s not hard to pin him down.

I almost expect him to ignore me waiting at his front door, but I should have guessed that he is too prideful to look weak in front of me.

He opens the door, and I blink at the damage of his face. His nose is a mess of cartilage and bruising, and it feels like I’m looking in a mirror. I don’t need to reach out to touch the slight bump on my nose to remember it’s there. A bump he caused after a heavy punch

and too much alcohol. My stomach rolls from the realization that I’m no better than him, lashing out with fists when provoked.

You won’t make the same mistake again. You can learn to be better.

Despite my reassuring words, I find it hard to battle the chilling realization.

“I doubt you came here to stare at your handiwork, so get on with it or get off my damn porch.”

“I came by to drop something off.” I slap a thick file against his chest.

I have one for every person in my life. Secrets are as good as any currency, and I happen to be filthy fucking rich, all thanks to the private investigator I have on retainer.

He opens the file before shutting it not a minute later. “I see.”

“Take your time and have a good look. I’m particularly fond of the reports from previous teachers going into detail about your abuse, although the hidden hospital visits for broken bones are particularly compelling. There’s a USB attached to the back that includes some videos of our more public altercations as well, just in case you want some visual context of what’s coming if you mess with Iris ever again.”

“Why are you showing me this? Why not go out and share it with everyone so you can take over my position?”

I release a bitter laugh. “Because I don’t need to resort to your level to steal your position, but I’m willing to do so if you ever pull a stunt like today ever again.”

“You would ruin our family’s reputation for her?”

“We aren’t family. You made sure of that the moment you told my wife to get her tubes tied, you fucking monster.” My hands clench by my side, but I hold back from throwing another punch. I’d rather use words as a weapon than my fists.

“I’m trying to save you the mistake of having a child with someone purely for an inheritance. You should be thanking me.”

Deep breaths, Declan. Deep fucking breaths.

“If I catch you talking to Iris again, whether about business or not, I’ll release this to the public. No questions asked. No second

chances. I don’t care if you need to use a damn smoke signal to get in contact with me, so long as you leave my wife out of it.”

“You’d publish this even if it makes you look weak?”

“That’s the thing,

Father

. I spent plenty of years thinking I was pathetic because I couldn’t fight you back, but I eventually realized the only weak man here is the one staring right at me. In one way, I guess I’m glad Mom is dead because at least she doesn’t have to face the disgusting excuse of a human you’ve become.” I turn, feeling his burning gaze following me all the way back to my car.

IRIS

Declan has been abnormally quiet ever since our trip to the hospital yesterday. I try to pry him away from his foul mood with a few comments, but it only seems to make him frown like I’m some nuisance.

If possible, the next day back only gets progressively worse. I can’t type with my right hand, so I’m limited to pecking individual keys with my left index finger. I’m tempted to throw my keyboard at the wall after only half an hour of working on a spreadsheet. Instead of resorting to violence, because we all know how that went last time, I text my knight in shining Armani.

Cal strolls into the office thirty minutes later. “I always thought it would be Declan who showed Dad what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his parenting style, but it turns out you did the favor for him.”

My chest aches for the children who grew up with such a cruel father. If only I could go back in time and throw a real punch.

Cal’s gaze narrows. “Don’t look at me that way. I don’t have nearly as many daddy issues as the other two.”

“That’s because you have a whole host of other problems.”

“It makes me layered.”

“No. It means you need to seek therapy.”

He laughs as he pulls out the metal chair across from me. “I’ve been there. Done that. Turns out if you’re not interested in changing, they can’t help you much.”

I shake my head. “Imagine that.”

He grins. “So I heard you needed my services.”

“Depends. How flexible are your plans over the next few weeks?”

“For you? Consider them canceled.”

I release a sigh. “I seriously owe you one. I can’t get much done with this brace when it takes me twenty minutes to type a single paragraph.”

“You’re going to regret asking for my help.”

“Probably, because you can’t focus for shit, but I’m all out of other options. I’m not about to spend hours next to a temp. At least this way you can make my job slightly more bearable.”

“You sure know how to flatter a man.”

“Declan doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

“Because, most days, he can barely be classified as human, let alone a man.”

Oh, he’s all man all right. I’ve seen the evidence in vivid detail.

Cal shudders at whatever expression is on my face. “Oh God.

Whatever put that look on your face needs to go.

Now

.”

Declan’s mood deteriorates throughout the day. I’m almost hesitant about introducing my plan, but after all the work I put into it, I can’t go back now.

“Why are we stopping?” Declan reaches out to press the driver’s call button, but I stop him.

“Welcome to phase one of Operation Fake Dating.”

He turns in his seat and stares at me. “What are you talking about?”

“This is my plan. Together, we’re going to squash any doubts about our marriage, starting tonight.”

His lips curve downward. “With fake dating? What does that even mean when we are

married

?”

“It’s simple really.”

“I’m burning with anticipation here,” he deadpans.

I ignore his mood. “I planned a few public outings to make sure we are seen by anyone who is anyone in Chicago.”

“You lost me at public outings.” He reaches for the call button, but I latch onto his hand to stop him.

I release him instantly, afraid a torrent of butterflies might take flight in my stomach if I touch him for longer than a second. “I know you want to stay hidden away in your suburban mansion, but avoiding the press isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”

“It’s worked before.”

“I’m sure it has, but are you willing to bet your twenty-five-billion-dollar inheritance on it?”

I’m surprised he can get any words out with the way his teeth grind together.

“No.”

“I’m going to need you to trust me on this one.”

He remains silent, so I take it that he is willing to hear me out.

“I booked us a reservation for two at La Luna with a table overlooking the river. It took a lot of finagling to get one at the last minute, but I know a guy.”

“Does his name happen to be Benjamin Franklin?”

I grin. “Bribes work wonders. You taught me yourself.”

It feels good to return to our regularly scheduled programming.

With him ignoring me for days, I kind of missed our back and forth.

Even if it is only for a night.

“Why did it require a bribe in the first place? You could have told them it was for me.”

“You think that highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He shrugs, and I roll my eyes.

“For your information, name-dropping wouldn’t have worked here because I had a very special request that required some monetary motivation.”

“I’m hesitant to ask, but I feel legally obligated to as your husband.”

I laugh as I clap my hands together, leaning more toward evil genius rather than angelic. “Our table happens to be right next to the

Chicago Chronicle’s

lead gossip columnist’s.”

His spine straightens. “Now I’m intrigued for a very different reason.”

I glare. “I didn’t go through all this trouble for you to blow it by doing something stupid.”

He releases a heavy sigh. “How can you be sure they’re here tonight?”

“I’d tell you, but then that would make you an accessory to the crime.”

He shakes his head and looks out the window, but I make out a faint smile in the reflection. “You expect me to sit next to someone who called you a brainless babymaker and do nothing about it?”

“Aw. You actually sounded insulted for a second.”

He mutters something under his breath.

“Listen up. The plan is simple. We go to dinner, have a drink, and pretend we’re in love.”

“Because we’re fake dating,” he replies back with a robotic voice.

Finally

. “Right! Now you’re getting it.”

“Dating you would be…”

I cut him off, growing more nervous with each judgmental stare he sends my way. “Painful. I don’t need you to tell me twice.”

His lips press together as he stays silent, scanning my face like an MRI of my soul. “Yes. Painful is exactly how I would describe this situation.” His voice is devoid of all emotion, and a chill spreads across my skin.

I swallow back the uncertainty and steel my spine. “Great. Now that we’re on the same page about all that, are you good to go?

They’ll give away our table if we don’t show up in the next five minutes.”

“I’m only agreeing to this scheme because you broke a few laws to make it happen.”

“If I ever get caught, it’s a good thing I have you to bail me out of jail.”

“Who says I wouldn’t be in there with you?”

My grin might make my cheeks hurt, but his small smile causes my whole chest to ache.

Well, that shouldn’t be happening.

Avoiding your feelings doesn’t make them any less real.

Oh, shut up.

Plan a fake date,

they said.

It’ll be easy.

Said no one ever.

The hostess, who is now five hundred dollars richer thanks to me, guides us to the table located right beside the reporter. That’s all I can think of as Declan’s mask of indifference slides in place and his palm finds the small of my back. The warmth emanating off him bleeds into my skin, and I’m tempted to shimmy closer to him.

“Anything else I can get for you, Mr. and Mrs. Kane?”

The red-headed reporter looks up from her menu. A flicker of surprise passes over her features as her eyes scan Declan from head to toe.

I shake my head as Declan replies for us, “No, thank you.”

Declan’s hand breaks contact with my back as he pulls out my chair. I take a seat, and he pushes me closer to the table. Unlike other times, he doesn’t step away, but rather he leans forward.

His lips brush against the shell of my ear as he whispers, “You better be right about this.”

I shiver. “Have a little faith in me.”

“I’m a bit hesitant given your track record.” He chuckles, sending those butterflies in my stomach on fire.

“I take offense.”

“Forgive me.” His teeth graze the tip of my ear, sending another current of energy through me.

Is this part of the show? I’m extremely confused until I catch Declan’s eyes connecting with the reporter’s.

I release a pent-up breath as Declan pulls away and drops into his seat across from me. The weight of his stare presses against my chest like an anvil, making each inhale progressively more difficult.

I look past him only to lock eyes on the reporter. She types away on her phone, completely ignoring her date.

Something tells me she is taking notes.

Time to put on the show of your life.

“I wish we were still on our honeymoon.”

Go along with it,

I say with my eyes.

“I do too,” he says it without an ounce of sarcasm.

Huh

. Does he actually mean that or is he lying to appease our audience? The first thought makes me push for more. “Why?”

“Because it turns out vacations aren’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Told you!”

His lips curve at the corners, but he remains quiet.

“What changed your mind?”

He leans in. “Not having to think about anything but which way I wanted to fuck you next.”

My sharp inhale isn’t staged. Neither is the way my heart beats like a war drum against my chest. My eyes flick between his burning gaze and the reporter’s flushed face.

“What are you doing?” I lean in and whisper with a forced smile.

Although my gaze is locked on Declan’s, I can feel the reporter’s eyes tracking my every move.

He reaches out and tucks a braid behind my ear. “Selling a story,”

he whispers.

“Then settle down, Romeo. This is a romance, not a porno.”

The way his eyes brighten has nothing to do with the candlelight.

“Fine.” He grows bolder with his touches as his thumb traces my bottom lip. It sends a rush of warmth through my body.

“So, I was thinking…” I speak louder, gaining the attention of my target.

“That can never be a good thing.”

I laugh as I shove his shoulder. “Shut up. We both know you actually like my brain.”

“I like your heart more.”

For someone who sucks at using anything but grunts and orders to communicate, he sure knows how to make my insides melt from a single sentence.

Except it’s all a lie.

“That’s…sweet.”

His lips press together in a thin line. I wonder if he does it to stop himself from laughing aloud.

“Anyway…I thought we could do something fun this weekend.”

“Define

fun

.”

“I want to host a little family get-together.”

His eyes speak of a hundred unspoken promises. There is no way he will go along with this plan, but it’s fun to pretend for the reporter’s sake.

“What kind of get-together?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“An F1 watch party!” This time, my smile is genuine. The idea seems like the perfect way to help Rowan and Declan get over their disagreement. Plus, I would love to spend more time with Zahra, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.

“No.”

I frown. “Why not? Rowan will be in town for a budget meeting, so it’s the perfect time for all of us to get together.”

He avoids my gaze as he assesses his menu. “That’s our thing.”

The way he says it makes my body buzz. “If you had it your way, everything would be

our

thing

so that you never had to share me with anyone else, you territorial caveman.”

“I’m glad you finally understand. It took you long enough.”

Through the corner of my eye, I catch the reporter smiling at us.

“You can turn it down a notch. We’re married now. No one is going to swoop in and take me away from you. Although…”

“

Don’t

.”

The reporter scoots her chair a few inches closer.

“I would leave you for one man and one man only.”

He raises a brow. The reporter nearly tumbles out of her chair from the way she leans forward to hear us.

I throw my hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, maybe two men.

Absolutely three tops!”

He sighs. “This list of F1 drivers seems to be growing by the week.”

“It’s all your fault.”

“I’m well aware of my short-sightedness. Trust me when I say I regret it every single day.”

My smile turns flirtatious. “You’re cute when you get all possessive.” I don’t mean it, yet his nostrils seem to flare regardless.

“Not sure you’ll be feeling the same way once we get home.”

A blush spreads from my cheeks down my neck, unbeknownst to him. I expected Declan to entertain a fake date because his reputation needs it, but I didn’t think he would elicit all these reactions from me. My body doesn’t seem to understand his promises are nothing but fake. Hell, my brain is having a hard time making sense of the way his eyes seem to darken, the blacks of his pupils eating away at the dark brown irises.

I swallow the lump in my throat and pray I can make it through a few more of these. Deep down, I know it isn’t real, but my body seems to have a hard time understanding his words are nothing but empty promises.

I should have known going on a fake date would be a bad idea, but I don’t have many options. The only thing I can control is how much time I interact with him. Because if tonight is any hint at what the future might look like, I’m not sure I have the power to resist him. At least not when he talks and does things that make my heart race and my skin flush.

So what happens if our fake dating game turns into more? I’m too afraid to answer the question, although I think I have a good idea.

Sex. Love. And heartbreak.

DECLAN

Ithought Iris’s idea of going on a fake date was ridiculous until I actually sat down and realized I have her undivided attention for at least two hours. It reminds me of our honeymoon and the dinner we had together. Except this time, she is solely focused on putting on a show while I’m more interested in getting to know her. Not the person she is during work hours or the hidden glimpses I get when she lets her guard down, but the real her.

“If you didn’t have to work, what would you do on weekends?”

She rears back. “Like if I had a day off?”

“You have Sundays off.”

“I’m usually too dead to move by then, so I prefer vegetating in my bedroom. I’ll only come out for water and food.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m exhausted. Working for you sucks up all my energy so by the time I get to the weekend, I’m running on fumes.”

This conversation is quickly taking a turn back to work, and for once, I have no interest in speaking to Iris about business.

“Fine. What would you do if you weren’t tired or working?”

She laughs. “Honestly, I have no clue. The things I used to do don’t really apply anymore.”

“Like?”

“Grabbing brunch with friends. Spending the whole day movie hopping. People watching at the zoo. The options are endless really.

I’m pretty easy to entertain, so long as it isn’t anything that requires much thinking.”

“When’s the last time you did any of that?”

She looks up at the ceiling. “Huh. Cal and I went to the movies a couple months ago.”

“Together?”

“No. We went to separate theaters and called each other afterward to discuss the plots.” She laughs. “Of course we went together. Who else do I have to go with?”

“A boyfriend?”

“After the last one ended in a rejected proposal, no.”

A pity.

“What about a friend?”

“Cal is my friend.”

“Another friend? Preferably of the same gender?”

Her laugh comes out sad. “I don’t have any more of those.”

“Why not?”

She looks down at her plate. “Turns out people stop inviting you places when all you do is say no.”

“Why did you say no?”

“We lived two very different lifestyles. Most of my friends had nine-to-five jobs and worked only five days a week. At first, I tried to keep up with them, but eventually I was burning myself out. I had to choose between my job and my life, and we know how that went.”

She motions toward me.

The look on her face stops me from asking anything else. A strange feeling in my gut comes to life, and I can only label it as one thing.

Guilt.

It’s my fault she has no friends. Well, none except for Cal and me, that is.

You’re the one who told her you don’t want to be her friend.

My stomach churns as I consider how I rejected her friendship.

With so few left, I’m sure she takes them very seriously.

That’s why she helped you in the first place. She really does consider

you a friend.

Except I don’t want to be her friend. Not when she elicits all these feelings inside of me that are nothing close to platonic.

Who said you can’t be both?

I should have never ordered another drink after our empty plates were removed from in front of us. The amber liquid serves as a reminder of my moment of weakness. Iris was ready to go the moment the reporter paid her bill and left, but I was the one who wanted to stay.

The thought alone pains me more than I ever care to admit.

I take a sip of my drink, only allowing the smallest amount of liquid to slip past my lips. Iris seems somewhat perturbed at how I make an ounce of whiskey last longer than all her past relationships combined. I’m selfish for keeping her out this late on a weeknight, but I can’t help it. Watching her speak about topics besides work is fascinating.

She talks until she’s breathless, filling the silence I have grown accustomed to with her endless chatter. There isn’t a single subject she speaks about that isn’t filled with passion and intrigue.

A dilapidated house she saw while driving home that seemed perfect for a renovation. How much fun she has visiting her mother’s classroom. Her plan to attend Nana’s cornhole championship coming up next week at church.

I didn’t even know there was such a thing as cornhole championships, let alone that Nana was the reigning champ.

I’m thoroughly enjoying my time with Iris, to the point that I don’t want it to end.

“Are you almost done?” Iris shatters my thoughts with the stark reality.

“With?”

She glares at my drink. “Your overpriced glass of whiskey.”

“I can afford it.”

“You have the same bottle at the house for half the cost.”

But would I have the same company? Probably not. The thought of drinking alone tonight seems unbearable. I’ve spent an entire lifetime by myself, and while it was never a problem before, it is slowly becoming intolerable.

“I’m enjoying the view.”

She glances out the window. “Says the man who hasn’t even looked outside once.”

“That’s not the view I’m talking about.”

Her eyes find their way back to mine. I’m startled when she drops her head back as a laugh explodes out of her. It’s rough and raspy, drawing the attention of multiple patrons. Warmth rushes through me at the sound despite knowing her amusement is at my expense.

By the time she looks back at me, her eyes have a watery shine to them and she can’t seem to take enough deep breaths.

My hand tightens around the glass as I take another chug. “What the hell was that?”

She dabs at the corners of her eyes. “The reporter left. You don’t need to pretend anymore.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“That’s…

concerning

.”

“I don’t see it as such.”

“No.”

“

?” What the hell is she even talking about?

“No,” she speaks with a firmer voice this time. “That’s not how this is supposed to go.”

“How exactly is this

supposed to go

?” I won’t admit I’m confused, but damn I feel it. Everything about her confuses me. From the pinched feeling in my chest whenever she laughs to the draw I feel toward her at all hours of the day.

“We work together.”

“And?”

Her deep sigh echoes the one building inside of me. “We have a deal.”

“Are you stating the obvious solely to annoy me?”

“Of course not. I’m simply pointing out the stakes. There is far too much riding on our

relationship

for us to screw it up because we’re horny and confused.”

I don’t miss the way she says

, although I think

she

did.

“I’m not confused. Far from it, actually. I know exactly what I want.”

“And what is that?”

“You.”

The way she laughs makes me want to stifle it with my lips against hers. I settle on latching onto her hand, which sobers her enough to stop laughing at my expense.

She tries to rip her palm out of mine, but I hold on.

“This has to be some kind of sick joke.”

The muscles in my jaw ache from the way I grind my teeth together. “How so?”

“You can’t want me. Not like that at least.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t meant to be anything but a contractual obligation.”

“It’s what we say it is.” I trace over the diamond on her finger, drawing a sharp breath from her.

Her eyes widen. “Oh my God. Are you actually suggesting that we hook up?”

I’ve always been a straight shooter—to a fault. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

Her bitter laugh sends a wave of uneasiness through me. “Then I’m sure it will be extremely difficult for you to accept that my answer is no.”

“Why waste time denying what we both already know?”

“Because the last thing we need is to further complicate things.”

“Hate to break it to you, but our relationship is nothing but complicated.”

“No, Declan. Our relationship is nothing but a façade.”

Her words land their blow, and I’m struck speechless as I process her words. She stands and grabs her purse. The small smile she shoots my way feels all kinds of wrong. I don’t want her to leave.

That much I know is true, yet she doesn’t seem to acknowledge the silent plea in my eyes.

“I think it’s best if we pretend tonight never happened. For both of our sakes.” She bends down to kiss my cheek, and she might as well have burned the impression of her lips onto my skin. “I’ll meet you in the car. Take your time.”

A tightness in my chest grows with every step she takes away from me. I hate the feeling sprouting inside of me like a weed, tangling around my heart like a vine, almost as much as I hate Iris walking away from me.

Tonight might not have gone like expected, but I am not the kind of man to admit defeat.

I plan. I act. I conquer.

Iris might have rejected my first offer, but I will rise to the challenge and prove just how good things can be between us if she were to give me a chance.

Our marriage might be fake, but these feelings burning inside me are anything but. It’s only a matter of time before I make her mine.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

The car isn’t even parked before Iris escapes the garage.

Harrison opens my door with his lips pressed together.

“How long have you been married for?” I exit the car and button my jacket.

His head rears back like I have never spoken to him before. We might not be confidants, but he has been my driver since before I ever had a license. Of course I interact with him. He even has my personal number strictly for coordination purposes.

“Forty years and counting.” He smiles to himself as if the idea pleases him.

“Willingly?”

As opposed to what? A contractual agreement like yours?

He laughs. “She might say no if you asked her.”

My head tilts. “Why?”

He looks at me as if he’s questioning my IQ. “Because marriage is hard, and apparently I’m not the easiest person to get along with.

Plus, I snore.”

A laugh gets trapped in my throat. “Makes sense.” I turn toward the door, but Harrison’s words stop me.

“Mind if I offer you some advice?”

I sigh and look over at him. “Only if you feel that it’s absolutely crucial.”

His eyes wrinkle at the corners as his lips turn up into a small smile. “You might have gone about all the steps in the wrong order, but that doesn’t mean you can’t restart from the beginning and try again.”

The back of my neck prickles like tiny needles driving into my skin. “You know.”

“Of course I know. I’ve been driving you around since before you could reach the pedals. If you owe me anything, it’s to not insult my intelligence like that.”

“You signed an NDA.”

He gives his head a shake. “I’m not interested in selling your story. If I was, I would have taken the money your father offered me and retired with Gerty on a sandy beach in Mexico.”

My mask of indifference slips. “He wanted to pay you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“How much?” I tuck my clenched fists into my pocket.

He shuts the back door. “Also not the point.”

“Why wouldn’t you accept his deal?”

“Because I wasn’t about to give you one more reason to hate the world.”

“You should have taken the money because nothing you could ever do would change my opinion about humanity. I can guarantee it.”

“Probably not, but there is one person who might.”

My body goes rigid underneath my suit. “Not possible.”

He releases a deep belly laugh.

“Am I missing something amusing about this conversation?”

He wipes his eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s comforting knowing that the smartest man I’ve ever met is an idiot like the rest of us when it comes to women.”

My brows tug together. “Do you even care about keeping your job anymore?”

“You could try to fire me but we both know Iris would hire me back first thing tomorrow morning.”

I glare at him, which only makes him smile.

“I was only trying to offer you some advice because something told me you might need it. But I see that isn’t the case, so have a good night, sir.” He tips his hat and turns back toward the car.

“Harrison,” I call out before I can stop myself. Since I already embarrassed myself, I might as well take advantage of his advice.

He pauses. “Yes, Mr. Kane?”

I must be having some kind of mental crisis because nothing else explains what I do next.

“What would you do if you’re attracted to a woman who wants nothing to do with you?”

He laughs in a way that makes me feel like I’m missing the second half of a joke. “Mrs. Kane can say what she wants, but she’s interested in you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

“With or without corrective lenses?”

He taps his thick-rimmed specks. “The bifocals don’t lie.”

“Regardless of what you’ve seen, she claims otherwise.”

“Oh, I’m sure she does. But that’s where you come in.”

“And do what exactly?”

His frail lips break out into a genuine smile. “You chase.”

Harrison’s words linger at the forefront of my mind as I walk up to my bedroom. I have spent my entire life chasing after anything I want, so while the concept isn’t anything ground-breaking, my desire to do so with Iris is new.

Bullshit. You’ve always been interested in her.

Except my thoughts never went past just that.

Interest

. Pursuing Iris was never an option before, but there is no way I can continue on the same trajectory. I will drive myself mad fighting the urges threatening to consume me whenever she enters the room. Lately, I seem to be driven by the burning sensation in my gut.

I rip off my tie and dump it on my dresser before making quick work of my button-down. I chuck it in a corner of my bathroom, along with my pants.

I hoped a shower would calm me down, but I was wrong.

My mind wanders, making up an entirely different scenario of what could have happened after our date if Iris was willing to take me up on my offer. To me cornering her and kissing her until she loses the ability to do anything but drag me toward my room.

I try to avoid touching myself. My hand is nothing but a temporary fix for a lifelong problem. One that has plagued me for years, never quite scratching the itch I crave.

My cock lengthens as I imagine Iris exploring all of me with her hands. Of how she would be greedy with my body, raking her nails across my flesh.

I grab my hardened cock with my right hand. I promise myself this is the last time I’ll use my hand, but I know it’s a lie. A hiss escapes me as I pump it once before rubbing the bead of arousal at the tip. My mind conjures up a series of sounds Iris might make when my hands grip her hips. A moan when my tongue strokes against hers. The sharp hiss as I scrape the hollow of her neck with my teeth. Her breathy groan when my fingers embed themselves into her ass like I could brand her skin with the marks of my fingertips.

My hand grips my cock like a vise, each angry tug sending a shot of heat down my spine. It’s easy to fantasize about what could happen between us if I push her to accept her new reality. How Iris would beg me to take her right then and there like a mindless animal.

I picture her touch turning desperate as I memorize her body with my lips. Of her returning the favor, learning every dip and curve of me with the tip of her tongue. My arousal leaks from the tip

as I consider her nails digging into my skin with each thrust of my cock. I’d wear her tiny half-moon marks like a proud battle scar, knowing what I did to earn them.

Heat spreads through my veins that has nothing to do with the hot water streaming down my body. I slap my other palm against the tile, trying to support my weight as my legs tremble. The burning sensation becomes unbearable as my yanks become sloppier.

The bedroom fantasy shifts to her catching me in the shower, touching myself like this. Her hand would replace mine as she looks up at me with her big brown eyes. The way she might hesitate as she grips me, learning how to please me the way I like.

Only a taste,

she would whisper before getting down on her knees and taking me in her mouth.

It wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge. A few slow licks up my shaft. The hollowing of her cheeks as she sucks on my cock until she chokes. Her moan as I grip onto the back of her head and shove myself down her throat, making her scratch at my thighs for reprieve.

The illusion is shattered as my release hits me. Spots darken my vision, and hot cum shoots out. It splashes against the tile before being washed down the drain. I jerk my cock, taking my anger out on the softening shaft.

My breathing is ragged by the time I’m done. I lay my head against the tile and curse to myself, knowing damn well I will never be satisfied until Iris is mine.

Not even close.

IRIS

It takes three days for the reporter to publish a story about us. I had hoped the results would be promising, but she exceeded my wildest expectations.

“I told you!” I slam my phone against Declan’s desk.

He grabs it and reads over the article outlining how an insider learned about a hidden side of Declan Kane. Turns out, the coldest man in Chicago happens to have a soft spot for one person in the whole world.

Me.

The way the reporter describes our relationship is something out of a movie. Whispered secrets by the candlelight. Stolen glances when one of us was looking the other way. A kiss under the stars, with both of us completely oblivious to the world around us.

He frowns. “That never happened.”

“It’s a gossip column, not the

Wall Street Journal

. They’re not here to present the facts.”

“It’s a wonder they’re still up and running with that mentality.”

“Because articles like ours already have a million reads and counting. The advertisement money alone must keep them afloat.”

His eyes widen. “A million? It was published an hour ago.”

I grin as I drop into the chair across from him. “I told you it would work.”

“I never doubted you to begin with.” He speaks with such sincerity, my chest twinges with a silent reply.

I deflect with humor. “Liar. You totally did.”

“It’s human nature.”

“No, it’s

your

nature.”

“It’s gotten me this far.”

“No. That’s all thanks to your last name being on the building,” I tease.

“

Our

name.”

I roll my eyes. “For now.”

“Quick to get rid of me already,

wife

?”

Somehow, one word seems to cause a rush of warmth from my head to my toes.

Danger. Red alert. DEFCON five activated.

So I do what I always do when Declan stirs up feelings inside of my chest that have no business being there.

I escape.

Turns out I can only avoid Declan for so long when we live in the same house. It doesn’t take him long to find me, struggling to drain a pot of boiling water with only one hand.

“Are you trying to end up in the emergency room again?”

I’m not given a chance to explain as he swoops in and grabs the pot from me.

He glares. “If you wanted my attention, this isn’t the way to get it.”

My mouth drops open. “I am

not

trying to get your attention.”

On the contrary, I was trying to avoid it at all costs—third-degree burns be damned.

“Then what are you doing?” He drains the pasta without me having to ask.

“Cooking.” I grind my teeth together to prevent myself from saying more.

Why is it when I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk, he can’t seem to help himself? The injustice of this all is not lost on me.

He places the empty pot back on the stove. “I can assure you boiling pasta isn’t cooking.”

“Can you go away please? I’m trying to eat in peace.” Dealing with him at work is one thing, but having him in my space, acting holier than thou, is not how I want to spend my night.

You’re just mad because you like having him around.

He lingers like a shadow as I scoop a large helping of noodles onto my plate.

“You should have asked for my help.”

I bristle. “I don’t need your help.”

“Could have fooled me with the way you were holding onto that handle for dear life.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Perhaps there is some riveting documentary about spreadsheets or expense reports you can go fall asleep to?”

He laughs, and it feels like the clouds parted and heaven graced us with a miracle.

Oh, Iris. This is how it all starts.

I recognize the warmth seeping through my chest as he smiles at me.

I hate it. I love it. And I can’t seem to stop myself from craving more of it.

He smiles. “I actually came down to eat.”

“Great. I’ll leave you to it then.” I drench my noodles with pasta sauce before stepping away from the counter. I’ll clean the mess up later once Declan goes away.

“Or you could stay.”

“What?” I blink.

“I never said you had to leave.”

Shit. If I leave, it makes me seem unequipped to handle him for long spans of time without adult supervision.

Probably because it’s true.

It’s one thing to spend time around him in an office; it’s a whole other thing to interact with him in the confines of our home.

I shake my head. “Oh no. I had plans to eat upstairs anyway.”

His eyes drop to the napkin and shiny cutlery I set down. When he looks back up, his eyes seem to brighten. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No,” I say too quickly.

His grin widens.

No wonder the man doesn’t smile often. The world wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he were to use them more frequently.

He opens a cabinet and grabs an empty plate before loading it with a healthy amount of noodles. “If it makes you feel better, we could talk about work.”

My horrified expression can’t be masked. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Because it’s normal.”

“Doesn’t make it right!” I laugh.

The skin around his eyes tightens. “I concede. No talking about work.”

“Fine. But only because you seem pathetically in need of some company.” I drop into the barstool with defeat. During the limited time Declan and I have interacted in the house, we have never eaten together. He seems to always busy himself in his office while I cook a sad meal for one. And unlike our fake date, this feels intimate. At least significantly more intimate than eating in a restaurant full of people for show.

He situates himself beside the placemat I put out for myself.

“So…” I grab my fork.

His eyes reflect his amusement as he lets me stammer through the silence.

“I don’t like this game you’re playing.”

“And what game is that?” He clutches onto his fork and twirls it in his pasta. His elbow touches mine, and I suck in a breath at the sensation shooting up my arm.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“I’m drawing a blank.” He spreads his thighs, and one of them brushes up against mine.

I shoot him a glare as I lift my fork. “Touch my leg again and I’ll be forced to take physical action.”

His head drops back. Declan’s laugh is a weapon of mass seduction, and I’m its biggest target. It’s rough and unpracticed, and it makes a tingle shoot down my spine.

I melt into the stool, allowing the sound to wash over me like a warm summer day. A sense of pride hits me at making someone like him laugh like this in the first place, given just how much he resists it. It feels like my own kind of superpower and a secret I plan on protecting.

Declan sobers, snapping back into reality as he takes a bite of his dinner.

“How is it?”

“Tastes like it came out of a box.”

I laugh. “I’ve never been much of a cook. By the time I get home usually, I’m lucky if I’m motivated to boil some water.”

“I could cook tomorrow if you’re interested.”

My mouth drops open. Is this conversation even really happening?

“I didn’t realize you knew how to cook.”

“Imagine if I didn’t. I’d be eating boiled noodles for the rest of my life like someone I know.”

“Three years.”

His brows pull together. “What?”

“For the next three years. Not your life.”

“Right.” His voice is devoid of emotion.

I nudge him with my elbow. “But

I’ll still take you up on dinner tomorrow. I don’t think I could stomach another night of pasta anyway.”

“Out of all the things you could use me for, you go with my cooking skills?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s not like you have much else going for you.” My comment earns me a death glare.

“You sure know how to make a man feel special.” His lips curve, throwing me back to the night when our whole lives changed.

“Special is the last word I would use to describe you,” I repeat his words from our engagement party back at him.

His gaze holds mine hostage. “What word would you use then?”

“It’s improper.”

“All the better.”

I shake my head. “I’ll pass.”

“Then ask me what word I would use to describe you.”

I really shouldn’t, but curiosity wins out. “Fine. What word?”

There’s something about the way he looks at me when he says it that makes butterflies take flight in my stomach. “

Yuánfèn

.”

I blink. “I’m sorry. Was that even

English

?” I’m already at a severe disadvantage when it comes to the language I speak every day, let alone foreign ones.

He seems privy to some joke with himself. “No.”

I pull out my phone and try to search the word based on my spelling, but I must be butchering it big time.

“Can you say it again for me?

Slowly

.”

He says it again—this time with a phonetic breakdown of consonants and vowels—which should be easy enough for anyone

but

me to spell out. My fingers hover over the keys, and I try my hardest to spell the word he said, but the only thing that comes up is

you ahn phan

“Want my help?” His voice drops low, making me feel helpless.

I want to throw my phone at the nearest wall. Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away. Showing weakness in front of Declan is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I refuse to do it.

“Whatever. It’s probably a curse word anyway.” I clutch my phone with a death grip as I hop off the barstool.

“To you, it might be.”

His joke lands on deaf ears. I’m too far gone to do anything but walk away before I admit something I’m not ready to share.

“Hey. Where are you going?”

“To bed.” I don’t bother looking back at him.

“What’s wrong?” The scrape of his stool pushes me into action. I take longer strides. I’m halfway toward the stairs when his hand latches onto my elbow.

“What happened back there?”

I can’t look him in the eyes as I respond, “Nothing. I’m just tired.” I tug my arm out of his grasp, and this time, he lets me make a smooth getaway.

I take the stairs two at a time, all while Declan’s eyes burn a hole through my back. It’s not until I’m in the comfort of my room that I let it all out. I grab a pillow, shove my face in it, and let the tears fall.

I cry for the girl who was bullied all throughout her schooling.

The one who became a running joke in class and was called every awful name in the book. Tears fall for the version of me that was ridiculed by her father until her mother had to intervene, only to see her get destroyed by his equally vicious words. The same person who made a working woman out of herself despite all the people who told her she would go nowhere in life because she couldn’t even read.

I spent most of my life trying to prove people wrong. It took years of tutoring to get to the place I am now, and I won’t let one setback throw me off.

So what if I couldn’t spell a stupid foreign word? My disorder might be a part of me but it doesn’t

define

me. Not anymore at least.

My phone buzzes against my comforter. I unlock it to find a new message from Declan. The fact that he sent a one-word text doesn’t shock me given his preference for using five words or less in all our conversations. It’s the content that surprises me, and not because it takes me three tries to finally make out the word.

Declan:

Yuánfèn.

I consider ignoring it, but curiosity wins as I pull up my search bar and type the word in the box with shaky fingers. The results are mind-blowing.

Yuánfèn: A predestined infinity.

Turns out Declan likes to casually switch to a foreign language whenever he wants to avoid saying how he really feels. Because

there is no way he would tell me to my face that he thinks I’m his

destiny

I think carefully about my next message. It takes me some time to find the perfect response for how I feel, and my search history is filled with variations of

words that have no English translations

. I copy and paste the word I found that describes exactly how I feel and press the send button.

Me:

Kilig

I throw my phone across my bed and don’t touch it until the next morning. It’s not until I get dressed and put my makeup on that I have enough courage to open Declan’s message.

Declan:

Merak

I copy and paste it straight into the search bar, only to drop my phone against the bathroom counter and shatter the screen.

A perfect symbol of how Declan is wrecking my plans, one by one.

Declan and I barely speak throughout the next day. I keep to my area and he keeps to his, with neither of us rehashing whatever the hell happened last night. I’m thankful that he doesn’t. Together we are dancing on a fine line, and neither one of us wants to take the plunge.

It’s complete

mamihlapinatapai

between us

with stolen glances across the conference table with no intention of seeking more. At least not for me. Although Declan sure is trying. His latest strategy to rope me in with foreign words that have no direct English translation seems to be working. Now I spend my breaks looking up

new words and adding them to a running list I have, just in case Declan tries to outdo me with one.

I never thought I could have this much fun with words, but Declan seems to be keeping me on my toes. He has already sent me two words today, neither one romantic like yesterday, but each make me laugh based on our context.

The first message nearly outed me for texting in the middle of his father’s biweekly board meeting presentation. I’m not sure what Declan was thinking by sending me a text of the word

backpfeifengesicht

. I choked on my water as I searched the word and found out it means something along the lines of a face that badly needs a fist. I’m convinced there is no other word more fitting for Declan’s father, although I can’t pronounce anything beyond the first syllable.

It turns out Declan does have a funny side. He just happens to be so nerdy, I need Google to help me figure his jokes out. To be honest, it’s kind of fun. The words are so difficult to pronounce that I don’t even feel the need to stress over them. It’s the meaning behind them that matters.

If I continue down this path, I foresee myself slipping further into uncharted territory with Declan. So, while I can have fun, I need to keep my guard up, because a few funny messages don’t translate into anything more than what it is: two people who can never be more than friends, no matter what.

“Why do you keep smiling at your phone?” Cal pauses his typing to look over at me.

Shit

. “No reason.” I tuck my phone away in a drawer.

You were smiling? Pull it together and stop rereading text messages like

a lovesick teenager.

“

Right

. Exactly how stupid do you think I am?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?”

His withering glare reminds me of an angry golden retriever. “I find it interesting that my brother has been equally invested in his phone today. During a board meeting no less.”

Deny. Deny. Deny.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because anytime he put his phone away, you picked yours up.”

“Purely circumstantial evidence at best.”

“Except I was sitting right next to you. I saw his name flash across your screen twice within five minutes.”

I wag my finger at him. “It’s rude to read other people’s messages.”

“I couldn’t care less about whatever nonsense you two weirdos text each other. I care more about your feelings.”

His comment draws a chuckle from me. “Your worries are misplaced.”

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t warn you away from my brother?”

“Fair point. Except you’re forgetting it’s my job to know everything about your brother. There’s very little you could warn me about that I wouldn’t already be aware of.”

“That’s exactly my worry. You know everything and still volunteered to marry him.”

“Because I care.”

“But have you ever asked yourself

why

you care?”

“Because…” I could fill in the blank with so many responses, each equally questionable from Cal’s perspective.

Declan gave me a chance to learn from my mistakes when other bosses fired me within a week for “careless” typos and an inability to work fast enough. He pushed me to try harder and think of the big picture, which helped me build enough confidence in myself.

Unbeknownst to him, he helped me grow into a woman who believed in herself, and for that, I owe him so much.

Cal sighs. “It’s okay to like him. I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t, but I want you to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

“And what’s that exactly? That he breaks my heart?”

“Worse. He makes you fall in love with him.”

Noun, Tagalog

: A feeling of exhilaration or elation caused by an exciting or romantic experience.

Verb, Greek

: To do something with pleasure.

Noun, Yaghan

: A look shared between two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin.

Noun, German

: A face badly in need of a fist.

IRIS

Things between Declan and me seem to be escalating. It has been a week since I had the brace removed, and Declan has yet to pull back. With each day that passes, he seems to grow more insistent about spending time together. Whether it’s eating dinner with one another or him working on his tablet while I watch an episode of TV

in front of the fireplace before bed, I can’t seem to shake him.

I never thought he would want to willingly spend this much time with me. While it might not bother most people to grow close to their fake husbands, it feels like I’m losing focus. Like I’m forgetting the reasons I thought we would never make a good couple in the first place.

If I were being really honest with myself, my thoughts have slowly started drifting away from friendship and right toward a big red flag known as infatuation. I’m not talking about the physical kind either. More like the soul-deep attraction that tempts the broken part of me to open up fully to him, regardless of the consequences.

It is terrifying to think I might willingly let him come closer.

Not like you have a choice with this evening’s plan.

Even if I wanted to avoid him, tonight’s fake date would make it nearly impossible to do so.

I knock my fist against his door.

“Come in.”

No one man should have the power to make my heart beat harder within my chest from a few words. I take a deep breath before walking into his domain. After days of limited contact, I feel starved for his attention.

Starved for his attention? Maybe you

have workplace Stockholm

syndrome after all.

Our gazes collide, and neither one of us breaks away. His eyes drag from my face down my body before lingering on my lime green stilettos. The straps wrap up my legs, making me feel every bit like a Roman gladiator despite the dainty little bow at the end. His stare stirs something deep within me, making heat pool in my belly.

“What do you need?” His rough voice snaps me out of my daze.

I lift my chin, preparing for a fight. “We have another fake date planned for tonight.”

“A fake date.” The way his lips curl at the statement fills me with trepidation.

“You know. Because we need to look like a happy couple?”

“Right. God forbid we actually

feel

like one, right?”

Oh. My. God. You need to get out of here.

I let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway…your tux is dry-cleaned and ready for tonight. Be ready at 7 p.m. sharp.”

I turn toward the door but halt when he calls out after me.

“Not so fast.”

My throat closes up as I rotate on my heels and look back at him.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

I regain my composure. “The charity gala at The Walton Hotel.”

“A charity gala?” His nose scrunches with disgust for the briefest second, and it makes me smile.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“How so?” He leans back in his chair, his cold mask slipped back into place. Except his eyes can’t hide what burns beneath the surface.

Poor man thinks I’m trying to seduce him. The thought makes me laugh to myself, which only makes his gaze darken as it drops to my lips.

“Your grandfather’s lawyer will be attending.”

“That isn’t the answer I was searching for.”

My eyes roll. “Of course not.”

“If you wanted to make it worth my time, you should have gone with something a bit more…

tempting

.” He strokes his stubbled chin, and my heart picks up its pace.

“I’m confused. Is there supposed to be something more enticing than earning your inheritance?” I choose to play coy because the alternative seems risky based on the look on Declan’s face.

“You and I both know what I want.”

“I don’t want to hook up with you,” I blurt out.

Oh God. Why did you say that?!

“Who said anything about hooking up?” He stands and buttons his suit.

Deep down, I know if he gets near me, I won’t be able to control myself. His penetrating gaze incapacitates me, and I’m unable to take a single step toward the door as he rounds the corner of his desk. I stand like an innocent lamb awaiting slaughter as he eats up the distance between us.

“I want to strike a new deal.” He reaches out and cups the back of my neck.

Goosebumps spread across my skin. “I’m not open to negotiating.”

He shrugs as he says, “

Strikhedonia

1.”

He robs me of my reply as his lips slam against mine. My eyes remain open, shock making me unable to process everything happening all at once. Declan must sense my inability to connect because his teeth drag across my bottom lip in a silent command to pay attention. One of his hands wraps around the back of my neck, trapping me against him as he kisses me. My body shudders from a simple scrape of his teeth.

I shut my eyes and relish in the sensation of his lips against mine.

His fingers gripping onto my neck tighten ever so slightly as my lips part with a sigh. His access to my mouth isn’t taken for granted. He

explores like a man on a mission, using his tongue as a brand onto my very soul.

Everything about his kiss is selfish. The way his fingers embed themselves into my skin. The feel of his tongue against mine, stroking, testing,

owning

. The way he destroys any semblance of normalcy with a single thrust of his stiff cock against my stomach.

I think I’m dying.

I think I’m

soaring

I’m hit with wave after wave of emotions, with each pounding against me without any sort of reprieve. I don’t understand what’s happening.

Maybe you don’t want to.

I grow frustrated with my mixed emotions. My skin tingles and burns all at once, driven by some primal need to gain control. I thrust my hands into his hair and tug at the roots. He soaks it up like a man starved, and my lips stifle his moan.

He likes you touching him.

His hands run down my curves before gripping onto my hips. He breaks our kiss, and I nearly groan with protest before his lips follow a path toward my throat. His tongue traces my fluttering pulse point before sucking on the skin. I buck under him, only to push myself further into his firm length.

Oh God.

I realize that I must have said the words aloud because he laughs against my skin. The sound that got me into this mess makes something snap inside of me, and I all but shove him away.

Both of us are breathing hard, staring into one another’s eyes.

The way he looks at me…it makes me feel alive. Powerful.

Desired

I can’t handle the weight of his gaze, so I scan the rest of him. Bad idea. The outline of his aroused cock pressing against his pants makes my mouth water. I’m hit with a sense of want that is so strong, it has my breath catching in the back of my throat.

Half of me wants to run while the other half wants to drop to my knees and get a better look. It’s the sane half that wins.

Go. Go. Go.

“I need to answer the phone,” I rasp.

“I don’t hear one ringing.”

The temptation to kiss that stupid smirk off his face rides me hard enough to wake me up. I power walk my way toward his door without sparing him another glance.

“Iris—”

“Be ready by seven.” I slam the door behind me, but not quick enough to miss him saying

fuck

under his breath.

Music blasts from my mini speaker as I sing my way through my makeup routine. While Declan hates galas, I love them because I don’t mind getting lost in the glitz and glam for a night. In the past, whenever he invited me as his guest so women wouldn’t approach him, I would spend the whole week finding the perfect outfit.

Tonight is no different. I take extra time applying my makeup and painting my nails. I somehow shimmy into my floor-length gown, being mindful of not catching my braids on the open zipper.

Despite my efforts, I can’t seem to reach the zipper. I’m shoved back into the memory of my wedding night. Except unlike before, I don’t mind asking Declan for a little help, so long as he is fully clothed.

A knock on my door saves me from having to travel far for his assistance.

I grab the knob and tug the door open. “Hey.”

Declan leans against the doorframe, his hair perfectly styled and his tux molded to his muscles as if it was sewn straight onto his body. The only thing unkempt about him is the way his bowtie lays undone against his shirt.

You had to go and marry one of the most handsome men in all of

Chicago.

Screw Chicago. More like the most handsome man in all of the

world

I want to drown in his whiskey-colored eyes and never come up for air. There is something about the way he looks at me that seems to strip me bare, ridding myself of any sensible thoughts. Some men look like a dream. Others a nightmare. Declan happens to be a lethal

combination of the two—beautiful in a way that should terrify me.

Emphasis on the

should

because if anything, I yearn for more.

Especially after our kiss earlier.

“You look…” He pauses.

“If you say

nice

, I swear I’ll make your death look like an accident.”

“

Devastating

.”

My throat tightens with emotion. “Are we back to using English words to describe our feelings?”

His eyes

glitter

. “Only for tonight.”

I break eye contact first, unable to withstand his stare.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Almost. I just need your help with something first.” I turn and pull my braids over my shoulders, revealing my exposed back. “I can’t reach.”

My cheeks heat as I think back to our wedding night. Somehow, I continue to land myself in this position without even trying.

He doesn’t move to help me, so I glance over my shoulder to see if he is still there. His eyes are transfixed on my back. They trace the length of my spine like invisible fingers before stopping at the dimples.

“Declan?”

His eyes snap back to mine. “I got it.” He steps forward and reaches out his hand. Instead of grabbing onto the zipper at the bottom, his knuckles graze the base of my neck. A shiver racks my body as he drags his fist down my back. The way he draws out the simple task makes me regret ever asking him for help in the first place.

Why didn’t you choose a dress that doesn’t have a zipper?

I suck in a breath as the tips of his fingers hover over one of my dimples. My neck heats as Declan releases a heavy sigh, and the silky material of his tux brushing against my bare arms sends another current of energy through me.

What is going on?

The drag of the zipper fills the silence, and all too soon, his warmth pressing against my back disappears.

He readjusts my hair for me, and my heart gallops in response.

“We should get going.”

“Hold on. You forgot this.”

His brows pull together as I step forward and grab the ends of his bow tie. I pull on one side before passing the longer end into the neck loop. He releases a shuddery breath as my fingers brush his skin, and I look up to catch his gaze fixed on me. The way he looks at me feels…

Devastating

I hurry through the rest of the steps before I do something crazy like pull his lips down to mine. “There.” I readjust the sides so the knot is centered.

I move to step away, but he grabs my hands and holds them hostage against his chest. “Thank you.”

My slow blink gives me a moment to process. “It’s just a bow tie.”

“I mean for everything. The fake dates…”

“The broken laws.”

“And noses.”

I laugh. “That was all you.”

His lips curve into a seductive smile that makes my knees

tremble

He reaches out and traces my cheek with his thumb, and my stomach does a betraying little flip that terrifies me.

No matter how tonight goes, one thing is clear: Declan isn’t going to back down. If anything, our kiss made him bolder. I’m not sure how I am going to survive tonight without doing something stupid.

God help me.

Declan and I make it to the gala without kissing, fighting, or talking.

It isn’t until he steps out of the car and holds out his arm for me to take that he finally speaks.

“How long do we have to stay here?”

I clutch onto his hand and exit the car. “We haven’t even gone inside yet.”

He huffs. “You know how I feel about these things.”

“I might know

how

, but not

why

.”

His eyes seem to roam over me before landing back on my face.

“I have my reasons.”

“Do they have anything to do with you painfully pretending you like other people for two hours straight?”

“If only it were that simple.”

“What would you do if you didn’t have me around to save you from hours of small talk?”

“Death by a butter knife would be most appropriate given the setting.”

I lean into his side as I laugh. He wraps his arm around my waist, and I look at him with wide eyes and a smile that has yet to fall. His lips part as if he is about to say something, but our moment is cut short by a flash of a camera bulb. Someone shouts Declan’s name. It sobers me enough to take in our surroundings and the different people mulling about the red carpet, interviewing each person who walks by.

I give him a reassuring pat on his chest. “Let’s get this over with.

The sooner we go inside, the sooner we get to leave.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

I laugh again, and his hand on my waist tightens.

Does he like my laugh?

The idea seems comical given Declan’s preference for silence.

My theory is proven correct later on when I break out into another fit of laughter and Declan’s hand squeezes my hip in response. A rush of happiness hits me as I come to grips with my revelation.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Noun, Greek

: A pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it.”

IRIS

It doesn’t take us long to spot Brady Kane’s lawyer. He would be hard to miss given his boisterous voice and equally loud embroidered tux.

Declan makes a move to walk over to his corner of the ballroom, but I tug him back.

“We should play it cool and wait for him to come to us.”

The ice in Declan’s whiskey glass rattles as he takes a long sip.

“You want us to wait and do what, exactly?”

I awkwardly laugh before taking a deep chug of my wine.

“Talk?”

He grimaces.

“So how was work today?”

He shoots me a glare. “You were there.”

“I don’t follow you around 24/7. There are plenty of things I might miss, like you struggling with a printer or harassing an innocent employee because they forgot to use Arial font in an email.

I mean, come on, what did Times New Roman ever do to you?”

His scowl deepens. “It’s not my fault they can’t follow simple directions.”

“I think you’d be surprised at how motivated people are to do a good job when you rein in the attitude.”

He looks away with a huff.

I grin. “You know, as the future CEO, you will have to learn a couple things about leadership if you want to be successful.”

“I know how to lead.”

“Do you, though? Because there is a big difference between giving orders and leading a company.”

He drags his eyes back to mine. “If my alcoholic father can do it, I’m sure I can’t screw up too badly.”

I take a sip of my drink as I consider my next statement. “But don’t you want to be better than him?”

His jaw clenches. “Of course.”

“Then what do you want to do when you become CEO?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your next goal once that happens? Where do you feel your father has been lacking?”

“It would take me years to repair all the business relationships my father has damaged.”

“Because you suck at kissing ass?”

His withering glare makes me laugh. The tightness around his eyes softens, all while his lips press together as if he wants to stop himself from matching the smile in his eyes.

He wants to smile because of you!

My brain might overload from all the sensations happening inside of me at the thought of Declan smiling because of

laugh.

“Look who it is!” A wrinkled hand clamps down on Declan’s shoulder. “I heard you were here tonight.” Brady Kane’s lawyer grins.

Declan doesn’t bother trying to smile, and the brightness from before is replaced by cool indifference. “Leonid.”

The lawyer shudders, making his head of gray hair shake.

“Please call me Leo. You know how I feel about formalities.”

Leo turns his eyes toward me. “And is this the wife I’ve heard some whisperings about?”

One of Declan’s arms snakes around me before tugging me flush against him. “Iris, this is Leo. He was my grandfather’s best friend.”

Best friend? Why didn’t Declan mention that tiny detail during our thousands of exchanges about the man?

Probably because he doesn’t have best friends, so he doesn’t think it

matters.

I refrain from sighing.

Leo holds out his hand for me to shake. I take it, and he pulls me out of Declan’s arms and right into his chest. “We will be having none of that. We’re practically family.”

Are we, really? Did I miss the part where this man never showed up to our wedding?

Leo must read my mind or at the very least the expression on my face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding. I was off the grid for a month while hiking Mount Everest, and by the time I came back, I heard you two had already tied the knot.”

If he seems wary of our marriage, he doesn’t show it.

“

You

climbed Mount Everest?”

“I might look old, but I sure don’t feel it.” He taps his heart with a grin.

“Says the man who called an emergency helicopter to rescue him after he thought he could compete in the Tour de France,” Declan replies.

“It was your grandfather’s idea. Bastard always wanted to show off how fit he was. I’ve always hated cycling.”

Something flashes in Declan’s eyes, and it makes my chest ache. I reach for his hand to give it a squeeze. The move is instinctual, yet I still blink at our interlocked fingers with surprise.

Leo catches the whole thing with a smile. “But enough about me.

I want to hear all about you two.”

“There isn’t much to tell.” I smile.

He wraps an arm around Declan’s shoulder and guides us to a table. “Nonsense. But first, we need a toast to celebrate your marriage. Is vodka good with everyone?”

Declan’s groan catches in the back of his throat, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.

Leo can’t stop smiling as his eyes bounce between the two of us.

“Do you prefer something else?”

“No. Vodka sounds great,” Declan speaks through gritted teeth.

My body shakes from quiet laughter, and Leo shoots me a look before he leaves us to go find a bottle of vodka.

“I fucking hate vodka.” Declan drags his chair closer to mine. He wraps his arm against the back of my chair like we do this all the time. His arm brushes against the back of my neck, sending a rush of goosebumps across my arms.

“Are you cold?” He frowns at me.

I only nod, afraid my voice would betray how I really feel about his proximity.

He stands and shimmies off his jacket. “Here.”

He gestures for me to scoot forward. I comply, jaw gaping as he slides the material over my shoulders. It smells like him—clean with a hint of spice. Without looking too obvious, I take a second sniff, allowing the scent of him to filter through my lungs.

My cheeks heat as I catch his eyes zeroed in on me. The inner voice in my head chants to keep him away. That nothing good could come from me entertaining the budding attraction forming between us.

The inner voice wins, all but shoving his kind gesture out the window. “Who knew you would be good at all this?”

“Good at what?” His lips tug downward.

“Your whole thoughtful husband routine could fool

if I’m not careful.” I gesture at the tux jacket threatening to swallow me whole.

His eyes darken. “Not everything is a fucking act.”

I flinch at the bite in his voice.

Isn’t this what you wanted?

Sure, I do. Him being nice isn’t part of the protocol.

There is no protocol. That’s your issue.

Neither of us tries to fill the tense silence, and I can only pray Leo returns to us soon with enough vodka to make his Russian ancestors proud. Anything to save me from this achy feeling growing in my chest.

My prayers are answered as Leo slams the bottle of clear liquor on the tablecloth a few minutes later.

“Here we go.” He crooks two fingers at a waiter who places three empty glasses beside the bottle.

“It’s a family tradition to toast to the newlyweds.”

I nod and grab the full glass Leo holds out for me.

Leo slaps Declan’s shoulder as he places a glass in his hand. “If your grandfather were here, he would have probably had this whole speech written, so I’ll just have to improvise.” He lifts his own tumbler. “Marriage is like going on a road trip with the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, except you have no map or fancy GPS system to help you out. You might not always agree on what music to play or which direction you should go. I can guarantee there will be moments you want to rip your hair out—or each other’s. Just like there will be times that test you, where you think that maybe things would be easier if you hitch a ride with someone else. The point is, life is going to throw a lot of things at you. Stuff like flat tires, dead ends, and mechanical issues. But you can either make the most of the journey with one another or cry about never getting to your destination. No one can make the right decision but you.”

He calls

that

improvising? I’ve never heard anyone describe marriage in such a raw way like that before. Declan’s gaze clashes into mine, and I wonder if he feels the same. Because no matter what our intentions were when we signed the paperwork linking us as husband and wife, we agreed to a road trip together.

Leo taps his glass against ours. “To the newlyweds.” Declan and he both bring their tumblers to their lips, but I can’t do anything but blink at mine.

I don’t know if I will ever be ready for a marriage like Leo describes. Sure, I might be married to Declan to uphold a legal contract, but that isn’t the same as what Leo shared. His version requires a whole lot of trust and a lot less baggage than I could ever fit in an SUV.

I don’t need to ask Declan how he feels. His intentions are written clear as day across his face—a snapshot into his heart that I know he reveals only for me.

I’m not ready to commit to a road trip. At least not the one he clearly wants. If I did, I would have said yes to my ex when he proposed.

Declan isn’t him. Not even close.

My heart pounds within my chest, like a trapped bird trying to fight its way out of its cage. One thought batters me, over and over, as I sip my drink in silence.

I might have made the biggest mistake of my life by marrying Declan.

Fuck me.

DECLAN

Iris stands the moment Leo excuses himself.

“Where are you going?”

She can’t even look me in the eyes as she replies, “Bathroom.”

I rise and grab her hand, forcing her to glance up at me. “Is everything okay?” I hate asking the question almost as much as I hate the haunted look in her eyes. Desperation claws its way up my throat, beckoning me to keep her at my side.

“Sure.” She offers a tense smile. “Do you mind calling Harrison to come pick us up while you wait?”

I nod.

“Great. I’ll be back in a second.” Her body remains rigid, spine straight as an arrow as she crosses the ballroom and turns around a corner.

I consider what might have spooked her, and I can only assume it has something to do with what Leo said. She seemed fine before he went off talking about marriage…

Did it make things too real for her? It’s plausible, given her aversion to love. She has made her feelings on the matter crystal clear, and I’ve gone along with it because it’s what she wanted. It’s not like it is any easier for me. After watching my father destroy his family after my mother died, I didn’t want to put myself in a similar

position. Everyone I love always leaves anyway. Why bother letting anyone close if there is no guarantee they will ever stay?

But are you going to spend the rest of your life alone because you’re too

afraid to get close to someone? It’s still the same loneliness no matter how

you paint it.

The back of my neck heats, and I turn to find Iris’s eyes focused on me. A few men stop and stare at her, and it takes everything in me to ignore them as I walk across the room.

“Is Harrison downstairs wait—”

Her question is cut off by me pulling her into my arms.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Leo stopped by and asked if we were sticking around for the auction. I told him yes.”

You’re a bastard for lying to her.

I’ll feel bad about it tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll take advantage.

She groans. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t want to give him any reason to think we only came here for him.”

She sighs as she wraps her arms around me. “Is there a specific reason you’re hugging me?”

“I thought I saw someone I know.”

Will you ever stop lying wherever she is concerned?

Only if I ever grow a conscience. Given the number of lies piling up around me, I doubt it would be during this lifetime.

“Did they go away or do you plan on holding me all night?”

Well, if I have an option…

You don’t.

I sigh as I reluctantly release her only to grab her hand. “Let’s dance.”

“Is this the vodka talking?”

I shoot her a look. “It was one glass.”

She laughs. “That’s all it takes. You don’t even like to dance.”

I don’t release her hand as I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Keep making a show in front of everyone and I’ll make you regret it later.”

A shudder runs through her, and I trace the goosebumps on her arm with a single finger. “That’s promising.”

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly as I lead her toward the dance floor. I wrap an arm around her waist, and she responds by locking her arms behind my neck. Our faces are only a few inches apart as we rock in circles to the soft music playing through the speakers.

“If you wanted to dance with me, all you had to do was ask. No need to use empty threats to coerce me.”

“Your mistake was thinking they are empty.” I allow myself to smile.

She sucks in a breath, her eyes not leaving my lips. My fingers graze the soft curve of her ass. A groan gets trapped in my throat as she jolts forward to avoid my fingers, all to run right into my now hardening cock.

Her wide eyes blink up at me. “Please tell me that’s a phone in your front pocket.”

I throw my head back and laugh myself hoarse. By the time I come back for air, I find her eyes transfixed on me. Hers and a few others around us, all acting like they have never heard a grown man laugh before.

“It’s a shame you don’t laugh like that more often.”

I lift my hand and cup her chin. “Maybe I finally have a reason to.”

Her face softens, and her body melts into mine. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

She escapes my question and my grasp all at once. I let her get away with it, only because she presses her cheek against the front of my tux, bringing her body closer to mine.

When the slow song bleeds into a fast-paced one, Iris squeals. I move to escape the dance floor, but she tugs on my hand and drags me back.

“I love this song!”

“Why am I not surprised?” I pretend to rub my ears in pain.

She laughs as she begins jumping up and down like a madwoman. I’m nearly knocked unconscious when she throws up

her arms and sways her hips to the beat. I catch a few men staring at her rolling her body to the music, and my glare scares them off.

“Let’s go sit,” I snap.

“Please. One more song.” She grabs my hands and drags them toward her hips. “Watch me.”

I can’t do anything

but

watch her. I’m entranced as she shimmies her body to the beat, keeping her lower half only an inch apart from mine. The way she dances isn’t meant to be erotic, but I find myself growing aroused.

She smiles up at me. “You’re not dancing.”

I’m not sure I’m even

breathing

She laughs as she wraps her arms around my neck and tugs me closer. “Move your hips to the music.”

I try and fail which makes her break out into another fit of laughter. If that’s the reward I get for looking like an idiot, so be it.

She turns around and places my palms back on her hips. “Copy me.”

Her rasp of a voice can barely be heard over the thud of my heart. I snap out of my trance and swivel my body like hers, matching her movement. Heat courses through my body as we both move to the music. Her ass grinds against my cock, and I groan into her ear.

“Now you got it.” She laughs as she steps out of my embrace.

My hands mourn the loss of her touch as she goes back to dancing. Her eyes shut, and she gets lost in the music. I don’t bother trying to dance. I’m far too immersed in the way she moves to care about anything else. Everyone around us moves to the beat of the song until the last note plays, and the crowd disperses, ending the moment all too soon.

“That was so much fun!” She takes a step toward the tables, but I pull her back.

“Not so fast.”

Her lips gape. “You want to keep dancing?”

I clutch onto one of her hands while my other finds the small of her back. “Yes.”

“I thought you always hated dancing at these things.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I could do this.” I pull her against me and place a soft kiss against her lips before retreating.

Keep her wanting more.

Her sharp inhale makes me grin into her hair. My skin buzzes as she grips onto me and we find our rhythm, two bodies swaying to the music. The song changes and people pass us by, but neither of us dares to end the moment.

The only time we step away from the dance floor is to get more drinks and partake in the auction I have no interest participating in.

All it takes is Iris squealing at the prospect of a trip to Mexico for me to become an active bidder, with me raising my paddle to outspend everyone in the ballroom.

Iris wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek when the auctioneer announces our paddle number. I don’t have a chance to process her lips against my skin before she pulls away and settles back in her chair.

Fuck it. I become invigorated by the smiles she sends my way.

Some people try to outbid me for whatever catches Iris’s attention, but I outmatch them every time. By the time the auctioneer steps away from the podium, I’ve spent over fifty-million dollars solely for the rush I get whenever Iris smiles.

It doesn’t take much convincing on her end to drag me back onto the dance floor once the auction ends, although I make a pit stop at the bar to get me through it. We keep dancing until the final song plays and we are the last couple in the room. I regrettably let her go, only for her to limp a couple feet. She doesn’t protest as I wrap an arm around her and take the brunt of her weight.

“I think my feet need to be amputated.” She flinches as she loses her footing.

I don’t think as I haul her over my shoulder, bringing her ass to my eye level. “Problem solved.”

“Declan!” she shouts into my back. “What are you doing?!” She rams her small fists into my spine, and I grunt.

“Being a gentleman.”

“More like a caveman! Put me down right now! This is so embarrassing.”

“No one is here to see you.” The lack of bags makes my job of finding her clutch that much easier. I pass it to her so she can hold onto it while I walk.

Her head lifts as she assesses the empty ballroom. “Where did they all go?”

“Home.”

“Then why are we still even here?”

“I lost track of time.”

She gasps as she checks her phone. “It’s midnight!”

“You’ll make it home before you turn into a pumpkin, princess.”

“That’s not even how the story goes.” Her laugh is muffled by the material of my tux as I carry her out the door.

“Close enough.”

“You’re a disgrace to your last name.”

I smack her ass for that comment.

“Did you just spank me?!”

My hand burns to do it again if only to hear that little gasp she makes when my palm collides with her flesh. She returns the favor and smacks my ass

hard

. I almost drop her from the shock of it all, but I recover with a laugh.

“Ugh! You weren’t supposed to like that!”

I collect myself before walking through the lobby with Iris hauled over my shoulder. The bellhop gives us a look as he opens the door, and I tip my chin in his direction.

A random passerby takes a photo as they catcall, and Iris flips them off.

“I hate you so much right now.” She huffs.

Harrison’s eyes widen as he opens the door of the car for me.

“Sir. Is Mrs. Kane all right?”

Iris waves. “All good. Although I can’t say the same about my husband once we get home.”

She rarely calls me her husband, but when she does, it sends a rush of warmth through my body.

Harrison laughs as Iris pinches my ass.

“Do you mind? I’m starting to feel dizzy.”

I unceremoniously dump her in the back seat before circling the car and dropping into mine. Harrison takes off down the road. Iris stares out the window, watching the Chicago skyline pass us by as we drive out to the suburbs.

I spend the entire car ride playing out different scenarios of exactly what might happen when we get home. By the time Harrison parks the car, I am buzzing with anticipation.

My thoughts are dashed as I turn to look over at Iris. Her body leans against the door, and her eyes remain shut as she breathes deeply in and out.

She fell asleep.

After all that talk on her end about getting payback, she couldn’t even stay up to seek retribution.

“Should I wake her, sir?” Harrison peeks through my side of the car.

“I got her.” I step out and walk around the trunk. I’m careful to open her door slowly so I can catch her before she falls out.

She doesn’t stir as I tug her into my arms, cradling her the same way I did on our wedding night. Somehow, she remains fast asleep as I walk us through the house and up the stairs. I struggle to open her door without dropping her, but I am able to configure myself in a way so I can turn the knob.

Her door hits the wall with a soft thud. I make my way toward her bed and place her on the mattress. She tucks her hand under her cheek and curls into herself, uncaring about her dress or makeup.

I hate the idea of waking her up, but I doubt she wants to go to bed dressed like that. It can’t be comfortable.

“Iris.” I give her shoulder a subtle shake.

Her hand flies straight to my face. I release a whoosh of air as I duck, somehow missing her palm before it connected with my cheek.

“Iris. Wake up.”

She groans. “Shh, Declan. Stop talking and do that thing with your tongue again.”

My pulse thunders in my veins, matching the quickening of my heart rate. Is she…dreaming of me? I blink, trying to wrap my head around Iris having a dirty dream about

She lets out a soft whimper that I feel straight to my cock. I consider the consequences of waking her up and showing her what the real deal feels like, but I think better of it.

Start small and be strategic.

Making a move on her tonight would be anything but smart. No matter how much I want to, I need to go about this in a way that won’t spook her. Her previous failed relationships are proof of what happens when people come off too strong, too fast.

I didn’t spend this long chasing after her for me to squander it because I couldn’t control my dick. My patience will be rewarded soon. It is only a matter of time before she comes crawling to me, and I plan on making her work for it.

Starting tomorrow.

IRIS

The morning after the gala, I wake up in a designer gown, smudged makeup, and a serious case of

how did I get here

syndrome. I wiggle my sore feet, noting a few blisters that weren’t there yesterday.

I sigh as I grab my phone from my nightstand. “Shit!”

I nearly fall out of bed when I see the time. Curses fly out of my mouth at the unread text message Declan sent hours ago. I unlock my phone with a shaky finger, only to release a breath of relief at the text.

Declan:

No work today.

No work today?!

I read his message twice to make sure my brain isn’t acting up again and rearranging all the letters.

I clutch my phone to my chest and do a little twirl. The idea of having a Saturday all to myself makes me want to break out into a whole song and dance like a Dreamland princess. I swear I could touch the stars with how high I feel right now.

While I shower, I comb through the memories of last night. Leo and his toast. Declan and I dancing until midnight. Him carrying me around like a sack of potatoes because my feet hurt.

The last one makes me smile to myself like a complete loon.

Oh, Iris. What have you gotten yourself into?

I try to come up with answers as I make my way downstairs for breakfast, yet I can’t seem to find one. I’m not sure what is going on.

The marriage I signed up for is nothing compared to the reality.

Declan wasn’t supposed to be nice. He sure as hell wasn’t supposed to do all these different things that stir up a longing in my chest I’ve never felt before. Even during my most serious relationship, I didn’t feel anything close to the giddiness that overtakes me when Declan does something completely out of character.

I try to block out the thoughts by blasting music through my earbuds. It seems to work temporarily, and I dance my way into the kitchen while singing along at the top of my lungs.

What I find has me halting my steps. One of my earbuds pops out, the blaring music barely audible over the sound of Declan chopping vegetables.

Excitement is fast replaced by skittishness as Declan glances up at me with eyes full of heat. What did I do to earn

that

kind of look?

“You’re here,” I reply after what feels like a whole minute of us staring at each other.

“I am.” He turns back to the cutting board and resumes chopping vegetables.

“You’re taking the day off too?”

Chop. Chop. Chop.

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.” A heavy sigh escapes me.

“I planned a fake date for us.”

I blink. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you planned a

fake

date

?”

His lips twitch. “I did.”

“Wow. That’s…unexpected.”

“We need to be out the door in the next hour.”

I cock my air gun and pretend to take aim. “Who’s the target?”

His lips press together. “I’ll tell you after.”

“Why not before?”

“I want you to act natural.”

All right…

“And you telling me who we’re trying to impress could compromise that?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. They must be pretty important if they inspired you to plan something.”

His hand grasping the knife tightens. “I’m capable of planning a date.”

“Sure, you’re capable, but that doesn’t mean you actually want to.”

“Who says I don’t?” His question is far too loaded for me to handle without coffee.

So, instead of pushing Declan for more info, I help him with breakfast. With the way he keeps touching me while moving around the kitchen, one would think we live in an apartment the size of a shoebox instead of a mansion. I try to ignore the way a thousand sparks shoot off my skin whenever his body brushes against mine.

Every time I sharply inhale, his lips seem to curve at the edges. I swear he does it all on purpose.

I can barely concentrate on cooking, which results in a half-burnt omelet. Sure, it might not look like the most appetizing meal, but it should get the job done. Calories are calories, am I right?

“Do you mind?” I snap when his chest brushes against my back.

“Your technique could use some work.” He assesses my breakfast with a scowl.

“Fine, Mr. Food Network. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

“Did it hurt to swallow your pride?”

“Ehh. I’ve swallowed worse.”

His nostrils flare.

Iris: 1. Declan: 0.

I smile as I take a step backward and hold out the spatula, expecting him to take it. The breath is knocked out of my lungs as he crowds me against the stove, clutching onto my hand holding the spatula.

“I prefer a more hands-on learning approach.” His hips press against my ass.

“Says the same man who used to tell me to

figure it out or find a

new job

whenever I needed help.”

He replies by nipping at the skin of my neck.

My next sentence comes out ragged. “What are you doing?”

“Helping my wife.”

My throat bobs. “You’re growing a bit too comfortable with that nickname for my liking.”

“I use it to remind you of your place.”

“And what’s that?”

“Mine.”

My cheeks burn, along with the area below my waist. He ignores my sudden shyness as he pours the mixture with his free hand, trapping me in place between both of his arms.

“Your first mistake was pouring too much in the pan at once.”

His hot breath hits my neck, eliciting goosebumps across my body.

The eggs sizzle, matching the way my insides feel as his chest brushes against my back. I never thought cooking could be considered an erotic experience—at least not until Declan. The man makes cooking eggs seem like a kind of foreplay.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What’s next?”

He carries my hand gripping onto the spatula toward the hot stove. “You let the eggs cook.”

It’s a simple task, yet he holds my hand hostage as we gently push the eggs over and over until the top surface of the eggs has thickened. Each minute feels like an eternity with the way he holds onto me. He seems to be drawn toward the curve of my neck, and he kisses me twice before dictating the next set of directions.

“Now you fill one side with your toppings.”

“Not both?”

His deep chuckle rattles my bones. “Greedy as always.”

“More like famished.”

“That makes two of us,” he replies huskily as he presses his hips into my ass.

That’s definitely

not

a phone in his pocket this time. I can tell that much.

“I think we’re talking about two different hungers here.”

Somehow the words make it past my tight throat.

His thick length presses against the seam of my ass, telling me exactly how he feels about

cooking

. He pulls away all too quickly, taking his warmth with him as he adds some space between us. I don’t understand his reaction.

Why do you care? It would only complicate things even more.

I care more than I would ever admit.

Because you want him too.

It is a tough fact to admit. I do want him. I want him really freaking badly, yet I don’t know how to go about pursuing something like that. And more specifically, I’m not sure exactly

what

it is that I want to pursue. Casual sex seems almost as complicated as proposing that we try something more. Either option would blow our whole plan to hell, and I’m not sure I want to do that either. My options seem as hopeless as my ability to hold off on our attraction.

If Declan is aware of my inner panic, he doesn’t reveal it.

“Be ready in thirty,” Declan gives me one last look before he grabs my shitty first attempt at an omelet and walks out of the kitchen.

I grip the counter and take a few deep breaths.

How the hell are you going to survive a fake date today when you feel

like this?

Declan grabs a pair of keys hanging on the wall.

“You’re driving?”

He spins the keys on his index finger. “I gave Harrison the day off.”

“I’m not sure what we did to deserve this kind of treatment but I’m here for it.”

Declan doesn’t comment as he walks up to a shiny vintage convertible that looks like something out of a spy movie.

My mouth drops open. “This is our ride?”

“Yup. Get in before we’re late.”

I’m stupefied as he circles around the hood and opens the passenger door for me.

“Wow. This is so cool!” I walk over to my side and drop into the seat, completely speechless as I trace the leather. Declan shuts my door before walking back around to the driver’s side. He puts the keys in the ignition, and the engine revs to life as he puts it in first gear.

I sigh. “The things I would do to get a chance to drive this car.”

He laughs. It’s rough, deep, and steals all my capacity to breathe.

“You can get me to do many things, but driving this car isn’t one of them.”

“Let me guess. It’s a

man’s

car

.” I roll my eyes.

His previous smile is wiped clean off his face. “More like a woman’s. My mother’s to be specific.”

I feel like someone stuck me in the chest with a knife and twisted it. “Your mother’s?”

His Adam’s apple throbs. “I thought I’d take it out since I haven’t run it in a month.”

He takes it out every month?

My chest aches for the man who keeps the memory of his mother alive through her car. I can tell Declan cares based on how much the car is taken care of, from the polished leather interior to the perfectly waxed exterior.

I can’t think of anything to say, my tongue thick with emotion.

The image Declan portrays to everyone is nothing compared to the one he hides from the world. While he isn’t anything close to perfect by any stretch of the word, he is still human. He hurts just like the rest of us.

We take off down the driveway before he stops to open the gate.

He rambles, and I smile because I have never seen him stumble on his words.

“She probably loved this car more than she loved my father—

which if you knew them before she got sick—was a lot. Not sure what she saw in him, but I suppose he was different with all of us before she died.”

I don’t miss the way he talks about his parents before she got sick. As if her illness changed the dynamics of everyone’s lives, including Seth’s. My lips turn down, and I hate myself for the ounce of sympathy that bubbles to the surface of my heart for the man who is as vile and ruthless as they come. Somehow love seems to humanize the worst souls.

“Will you tell me more about her?” It’s a loaded question. One that I’m not sure is fair to ask in the first place, but I can’t help myself. I want to know more about the man who takes his mother’s car out once a month as if she might return at any minute and ask for it back. I want to know about it all.

He sighs, and I just know deep down in my heart that he is about to turn me down. For some reason I can’t bear the thought, so I do something stupid. Something so incredibly stupid I’m sure I will regret it tomorrow. But I’m too enraptured by his story to care about what might happen.

“What if we make a deal?”

The corners of his lips lift. “I’m open to negotiations.”

“What’s something you want?” I drop the bomb back on his lap.

I’ll let him be the one to decide what he wants most and then see if I’m up for the challenge.

“I want an equal exchange…” He pauses, and my breath stalls in my chest.

Another kiss? A real date?

A blow job

? The options are endless really. A warmth travels from my head to my toes at the thought of what he might choose.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll tell you about my mother if you tell me about your learning differences.”

If my life had a soundtrack, this is the moment the DJ scratches the record, making me feel like a total dud. The air escapes my lungs like a deflated balloon. What the hell kind of deal is that? And more specifically, how the hell did he find out?

I cross my arms and throw up a barrier. “Who told you?”

“No one.”

“Bullshit. Was it Cal?” I’m about to tell Declan to pull over and let me take over, solely so I could go find Cal and rip him a new asshole.

He shakes his head. “I found out on my own.”

“

How

?”

“I knew the signs.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “You expect me to believe that?

Exactly how gullible do you think I am?”

His face softens. “My mom was the same way.”

“Your mom? The same one who was a history major?”

He clutches onto the steering with white-knuckled fists. “Just because she struggled with reading doesn’t mean she hated it.”

I feel like a dick for assuming otherwise. To be fair, I’m struggling to keep up with all this information. There is no way I can process Declan knowing about my dyslexia and his mother struggling with the same disorder all in one conversation.

“I should have known you would figure it out.”

“There was no reason for you to hide it in the first place.”

I clench my fists against my lap. “You don’t get to judge my choices.”

“I only want to understand them.” The softness of his voice tears me up inside.

I stay silent.

“

Please

.”

I release a shaky breath. Declan doesn’t say

please

ever, so it makes me weak enough to open up about my past.

I stare out the window. “I spent my whole life feeling different than everyone else. First, it started with teasing and being made fun of. Little things like teachers calling me lazy or classmates gossiping about how I was stupid. I was held back a year, which led to more embarrassment because all my friends moved on to the next grade without me. Eventually kids got bolder. Their words became harsher and their actions meaner. It didn’t take long for someone like me to start believing those words, especially when your own father called you a disappointing idiot every day.” My voice cracks.

Declan reaches out and forces my fist open so he can lock our fingers together.

“It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. With my parents’ divorce and all the stress with that, I stopped caring about class despite my mom trying her hardest to get me into tutoring. Nothing was working, and I think she was losing hope too. My shame and anxiety kept growing until I would cry every day before school. I shut down with everyone, so my mom took a chance and found me a therapist so I could open up to someone about what was happening.”

His hand gives me a reassuring squeeze.

“With my therapist’s help, I started building myself back up and found projects I was good at that had nothing to do with school.

That’s where my plant obsession started. Turns out I had a calling for bringing my mom’s dead plants back to life.”

“I thought therapy was supposed to fix our problems, not create more of them.”

The tension in my chest eases as I laugh. “It helped. One plant turned into two, and eventually I started building a whole collection.

My therapist called it a coping strategy.”

“I suppose it can be considered a better solution than drugs.”

Our eyes connect, his filled with a lightness I wish would remain for long spans of time. “Once I got the emotional stuff down, I was much more open to tutoring. It took a while, but I finally started succeeding in school.”

“And then what?”

“And then I graduated high school with a lot of help. I wasn’t ready to commit to a university yet after all the difficulties I went through in school, so that’s how I ended up at the temp agency you partnered with.”

“And then you drew the short stick and had to come work for me.”

My nose scrunches. “You went through assistants like one would go through underwear.”

“It’s not my fault they didn’t meet my expectations.”

I shake my head. “Whenever you fired someone, the remainder of us were forced to drop our names into a hat. I was lucky up until

that point, but then—”

“You were chosen,” he finishes for me.

I nod. “I showed up to your office on Monday knowing I wouldn’t make it to the end of the week. But then…”

“What?” His eyes darken.

“I could just tell in your eyes that you expected me to fail.”

“And?”

“I spent my whole life having people look at me that way.

Something snapped in me when you told me to not bother unpacking my stuff since I would be gone by the end of the week. It lit a fire under my ass. I was ready to do whatever it took to prove to myself once and for all that I could achieve anything I wanted, starting with my job.”

“Weren’t you afraid?”

“Of course I was. Your reputation was as terrible as your track record with assistants, but I knew nothing you could have said to me would have topped any of the shit I grew up hearing as a little kid.”

The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of his palms. “If I had known sooner, I would have held back on some of the things I told you—”

My laugh cuts him off. “Please. We both know you would have fired me if you realized my struggles.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not true.”

“Why not?”

“Because if my mom were alive, she would have been ashamed of me for doing something like that.”

My chest feels as if he cut it open with his words alone. “Is that why you kept me all this time? Despite the errors and typos and slower turnaround times?” My voice sounds so small and unsure—a perfect match to how I feel with Declan stirring up all these emotions.

He draws a slow breath. “I kept you because you’re fantastic at your job. You always rose to whatever challenge I threw your way, whether it was a part of your job description or not. There wasn’t a single time I felt like your differences got in the way. If anything, I think it made you ten times better at your job because you thought

differently than me. Just look at the Yakura deal. He would have never accepted the proposal without your additions to my model.”

A swell of emotion lodges itself in my throat. “Oh.”

“I might be cold, rude, and distant, but I’m not blind. My whole job is about evaluating assets and it turns out that you’re my biggest one.”

I never thought someone talking finance to me would be so heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

He gives my hand another squeeze as if to remind me of our connection. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you by my side.”

“You don’t need to try too hard. I am your wife after all.”

“Even if you weren’t, I won’t give you up.” The little smile on his face does something crazy to my heart rate.

I never thought someone like him could be capable of such sweet words. “Who knew you were such a nice guy underneath your grumpy exterior?”

“Don’t go telling anyone else or they’ll be disappointed to find out it’s only for you.”

Looks like the reporter

was

right. Declan does have a soft spot for me after all.

“Why?”

“

Forelsket

1.”

His raspy whisper makes me feel like he shares a secret I can’t decode.

“Spell it for me.” I pull out my phone.

He shakes his head as if it can erase the tiny smile on his face.

“Some words aren’t meant to be translated.”

“That’s such a lie! All your words have translations.”

“Correction. Some words aren’t meant to be translated by

you

.”

I cross my arms. “Where did you learn all these words anyway?

There’s no way you know all these languages.”

He turns his head back toward the road. “It was a game my mom and I played together when I was a little kid.”

My throat gets scratchy at the thought. “How?”

“I was always bad at expressing my feelings, way before my mom ever got sick.”

“You? No. I refuse to believe that,” I say with absolute seriousness.

His glare makes me laugh.

“She taught me how some people need a hundred words to express a single thought, while some people only need one word to share a hundred thoughts.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

His eyes become distant. “It became our secret code. If I was feeling a certain way, she would ask me for my word.”

My bottom lip quivers. “What made you start using them again?”

He turns and looks at me. “Not what but

who

. We both struggle with words in our own ways. Me with expressing them, and you with reading them.” His explanation makes each word he shares feel even more meaningful.

The burning sensation in my chest intensifies, betraying just how much my heart wants to throw caution to the wind. It scares me more than I care to admit, so I stick to a safer question. “What made you choose non-translatable ones?”

“They started out in English but eventually once my brothers started picking up on it and started copying me, I switched gears.

There was no way they could say

kyoikumama,

let alone spell it.”

“Always against sharing, ever since a young kid, huh?”

“You’re an only child. You can’t even begin to understand what it is like to grow up with siblings always stealing your stuff and copying you.”

“I wish! That seems a whole lot better than spending your entire life alone.”

“The silence must have been nice.”

I laugh. “It got old fast. If everything goes my way, I plan on having enough kids to fill a whole house so they never have to grow up feeling the way I did.”

He shoves the gear stick a bit harder than necessary. “Kids?”

“A whole minivan if I’m lucky.”

“I didn’t know you wanted a big family.” A vein in his neck throbs.

“You never asked, and I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Why not?”

“Because we only agreed to one child.”

“What if that weren’t the case?”

I feel shocked by his question. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

He pauses, clearly thinking of a response before shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Nothing?

I want answers, but my fear of his response stops me from asking any questions. And with the way he shuts down, I know that I’m not going to get them today anyway.

Maybe it’s for the best.

Noun, Norwegian

: That overwhelming gut-rush euphoria exclusive to the beginnings of falling in love.

IRIS

There is no way Declan’s target happened to go to the Chicago Botanic Garden on a Saturday. After our whole conversation in the car, I know he planned this for me. Not that he would ever admit it. So rather than call him out on it, I go along with the whole charade. I’m far too excited about visiting the garden to ruin it by calling Declan out on his lie.

The garden is my favorite place in the entire world—sorry, Dreamland. I have so many fond memories here, dating all the way back to my childhood. My mom, Nana, and I would come here together after my Saturday tutoring sessions. Mom and I would visit all the gardens while Nana would huff and puff about her busted knee, only to be easily swayed by the pretty flowers and champagne popsicles.

I laugh as Declan grabs a map from an information stand. He doesn’t ask for my help, and I don’t bother offering it. While I know every corner of this place, watching him assess the map like we are exploring uncharted territory is far too entertaining to pass up.

He locates our current position on the map. “Is there a certain strategy to all this?”

“Strategy? It’s a garden, not a chessboard.” I laugh.

“Fair point. Then is there something in particular you want to see first?”

“Shouldn’t we go wherever the person you came to see is?” I push my lips together to prevent giving myself away.

“I don’t know where they are.” He says the lie with such ease, it unsettles me enough to push for more.

“You know, if I knew what they looked like, it would make this process a little easier. How else am I supposed to know when we need to pretend?”

Declan shuts the map, pockets it, and grabs my hand. “We don’t.”

Sparks shoot up my arm from the contact. “So, what? We just act like a couple the entire time?”

“Exactly.”

I fake groan. “But this place is huge. It could take hours before we find them.”

“Maybe even more.” He doesn’t release my hand as he leads us toward the start of a trail.

I give him another opportunity to confess. “They must be pretty important if you’re going out of your way to subject yourself to walking around a garden for hours while holding my hand.”

“You have no idea.”

I turn my head away so he doesn’t catch me smiling at his lie.

Declan wraps his arm around my waist as if we touch like this all the time. What happened to the man who struggled with touching me only two months ago? Because it seems like that version of Declan is long gone, with him using today’s fake date as an excuse to touch me however he wants.

I’m so lost in obsessing over his embrace that I almost miss my favorite part of this whole place.

“Ahh! Stop!” I pull back on Declan’s arm.

Declan halts, and I stumble from the momentum.

“What happened?” He checks the perimeter.

“You’re walking so fast that we almost missed my favorite part.”

He looks around, missing the greenhouse during his scan of the bushes behind us.

I point with my free hand at the glass structure.

“You want to go in there?”

“Yes! It’s the best place!”

“A greenhouse?”

I smile. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“I’m just surprised you prefer that over the outdoors.”

“I’ll show you why.” I all but drag him through the doors.

Instantly, we are hit with a gust of humid air. Fans spray a warm mist across all the plants, and we are caught in the crossfire.

A crease appears in between his eyebrows. “Why is it so muggy?”

“Because they need to recreate the tropical climate.”

“What for?”

It excites me to know more about a topic than Declan, and I relish in the fact that he doesn’t know everything after all. “Plants like these would never normally survive the seasons here. Without a greenhouse, they would most likely die, especially in Chicago.”

He follows me as I walk through the rows of short palm trees.

“Is that the reason you keep all your plants indoors?”

“Do I need a better reason besides to annoy you with them?”

His glare makes me laugh to myself.

“Living in an apartment had many perks, but a greenhouse isn’t one of them. Not enough space.” I lead him toward the small pond at the back of the greenhouse. “You know how you have different words to express your feelings?”

He nods.

“Plants have different meanings too.” I gesture toward the lotus flower stems peeking out of the murky water. “These are my absolute favorites.”

“Why?” He pockets his hands and stares at me head-on without a flicker of emotion.

“Because it amazes me how the most beautiful flower can blossom from the worst conditions.” I check out my reflection in the murky water. “It seems silly to relate to a flower—”

“It’s not.”

I look up to find his eyes focused on me. The warmth reflecting in them encourages me to open up without worrying about the consequences. “I spent a long time underestimating myself, only to realize I needed to make it past the bad stuff and find the light.”

“Is this the reason you liked visiting the greenhouse?” He stops beside me to get a closer look at the flowers.

“The main one.”

“Any others?”

“You’re looking at it.” I spin in a circle with my arms extended, and my hands brush against a couple of leaves.

His lips press together in a poor attempt to hide his smile.

“You’re a crazy plant lady.”

“Please. I haven’t officially earned that title until I have a greenhouse of my own.”

“Do you want one?”

“A greenhouse?”

“Are the pesticides in here getting to your head or are you just struggling to comprehend what I’m asking?”

“Maybe I’m struggling because you’re not asking in the first place.”

His chest heaves from a deep breath. “Would you like a greenhouse?”

“In your backyard?”

“I think we can start calling it ours, seeing as you live there too.”

My mouth opens before shutting again. “You’re offering to build me a greenhouse?”

“If only to save me from tripping over potted plants in the middle of the night when I want a goddamn glass of water.”

“Of course. How silly of me to think you wanted to build one to make me happy.”

“Anything I do is solely for my benefit.” But his grin says the exact opposite.

The warm feeling from his smile follows me as we keep walking through the greenhouse. I take the time to explain all the different plants to Declan. For someone who always seems to be taking the lead, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about following me.

As we step out of the greenhouse and blink up at the sun, Declan asks, “Where to next?”

I point toward the trail that will take us around the lake. “That way.”

Together, we walk hand in hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Declan asks me questions about different plants and I answer them, getting far too excited about topics like the difference between tropical and semi-tropical. He asks silly questions, half of which I’m sure are done purposefully to make me laugh.

Seriously, there is no way I willingly married someone who doesn’t know the difference between a succulent and a cactus. He seems confused about how all cacti are succulents but not all succulents are cacti, and I spend a good hour in the Arid Greenhouse with him, explaining everything I know about the different plants.

Not once does he seem bored despite my nonstop chatter.

Declan, a man who doesn’t speak for longer than five-minute spans of time, spoke to me for hours. The idea makes me far giddier than it should.

It’s not until the sun begins to set that Declan steers us toward the exit.

“So, did you ever find them?”

“Who?”

I lift our interlocked hands in the air to remind him of our duty.

“The reporter we came here to pretend in front of.”

“No.”

“I knew it! You can stop lying now.”

“Lying about what?”

“We didn’t come here so a reporter could see us, did we?”

His eyes lighten. “Why else would we come here?”

“Because you wanted to take me out on a date, but you didn’t want to admit it was that in the first place just in case I rejected you,

so you made up this whole elaborate story so I wouldn’t ask questions.”

“Is narcissism genetic or is our child safe from that awful personality trait?”

The way he says “our child” sends a wave of

something

through me that I refuse to acknowledge. “Depends. If we’re going based on paternal history, they are screwed from the start.”

He reaches out and runs his thumb across my bottom lip.

“Hopefully they inherit their mother’s selflessness instead.”

I officially raise the white flag as I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss him.

IRIS

We sit in silence during the entire drive back to the house. I’m not sure what to say, and Declan looks about one comment away from fucking me in his mom’s car, so I stay quiet.

My heart rate reaches a critical level by the time he drives into the garage, and I’m out of breath as he pulls me out of the car and straight into the house.

He moves so fast. One moment I’m blinking up at him, the next I’m being pushed up against a wall. My spine tingles from the momentum.

“Tell me what you want.” His crazed expression does something insane to my insides.

My heart thuds against my chest, my pulse thundering with each beat. I lose all ability to speak. The way he stares at me, with his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with each ragged breath, makes me shiver.

“I’m not sure.”

He lets out a groan as he steps away.

I miss his warmth instantly. “Declan—” I reach out to touch him, but he grabs both my wrists and locks them above my head.

“You haven’t earned the right to touch me yet.”

“And you have?”

He traces the column of my neck with his free hand, and my whole body lights up like a firework. “I’m not scared to claim what’s mine.”

“I’m not afraid.” Not anymore. I’m done with the back and forth.

The uncertainty is driving me crazy, and it isn’t fair to him. He planned a date for me and pretended it was a fake one just so I would go. I don’t think anyone has done something so sweet for me ever.

“Prove it then.” He releases my wrists.

“Strikhedonia.”

I no doubt butcher the pronunciation, but it seems to draw a genuine smile from Declan nonetheless.

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and drag his lips toward mine. Compared to our first kiss, Declan lets me take the lead. It’s tentative at first. Nothing but a few soft presses of my lips against his, each becoming progressively more desperate on my end.

He doesn’t make a move to touch me, and my skin itches for connection. His silent challenge to prove how much I want him plays in the back of my mind as I trace his bottom lip with the edge of my tongue.

I never thought I would crave his touch as much as I do at this moment, and I find myself growing irritated with how much control he exudes over the situation.

That won’t do

. The tips of my fingers tingle with the need to touch him

everywhere

. My hands grow bolder as I drag my fingers down his shirt, straight toward the bulge beneath his pants. He releases a shuddery breath as I trace the outline of his length. I use the opportunity to tease his tongue with mine, and the results are miraculous.

He groans as his palm finds the back of my neck, locking me in place as he ravishes my mouth. I rub the palm of my hand against his cock. His kissing grows more uncontrolled as I make quick work of undoing his belt and zipper. Our tongues tangle together, stifling his moan as I slip a hand inside his pants. He sucks in a breath as I trace the tip of his cock. I swipe at the bead of arousal with my thumb before rubbing it in circles across his head.

He bites down on my bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste in my mouth.

I giggle to myself as I withdraw my hand and pull back. “How was that for proof?”

The hand around the back of my neck tightens, and his thumb presses against my thundering pulse point. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. Goosebumps spread across my skin as he opens his blown-out eyes and turns them on me.

“I’m not entirely convinced.”

My lips part. “You’re so full of—”

I’m cut off as he hauls me over his shoulder, stealing me before I ever have a chance to run.

“Are you kidding me? We’re back to this again?” I pound my fists against his back.

He turns toward the stairs. “I want to conduct a more thorough observation.”

“Are you insane?”

“When it comes to you, that was never a question.”

I laugh as he carries me up the million steps. “You know I can walk right?”

“Acutely. That doesn’t mean I’ll let you.”

I laugh. “Why not?”

“You’re a flight risk.”

“Am not!”

“If I had it my way, you would wear an ankle monitor so I could always know where you are.”

My eyes widen. “That is absolutely terrifying.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve already looked into GPS chips for our child.”

Our child.

Those two words seem to have my heart in a chokehold today.

“Thinking about becoming a father often?” I ask with a shaky voice.

“More than I should.”

The idea of him considering fatherhood doesn’t scare me as much as it should. I knew what I was getting into when I signed the

deal, but it seems like such a contrast compared to the man who needed to be manipulated into shared custody rights.

Oh, Iris. What are you going to do now?

Declan seems to answer for me as he passes by my room without stopping. I cling to his shirt with sweaty palms, desperate for something to ground me as we enter his room.

My world turns right side up as he throws me onto the bed. I let out an oomph as my back slams into the mattress, and all the air is knocked out of me for a completely different reason than being flung. Declan’s hands grip onto my thighs as he drags me toward the edge of the bed. The material of my dress slides up, and the hem skates dangerously close to my underwear.

He stops and stares at me in a way that makes me feel like he is picking me apart, piece by piece. “Let’s play a game.”

“You and your damn games. I swear it’s like you were deprived of fun as a child.”

His lips twitch as he slides his palms up my thighs. They tremble beneath his touch, and I press them together to hide their shakiness.

“You’ll like this one. I promise.” He makes quick work of my sneakers and socks, and they thud against the carpet like stripped battle armor.

I rise up on my elbows. “What are the rules?”

His eyes bleed to black. “There is only one.”

“That seems easy.”

tsks

as he drags my dress hem a little higher. My breathing comes out harsher, and that seems to only encourage him.

“Beg.”

I shoot him a glare. “If you expect me to beg for your cock, you have another thing coming.”

One side of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “Who said anything about my cock?”

“Then what exactly do you want me to beg for—”

Declan’s fingers grab onto the edges of my thong and drag it downward. He takes his time, turning the removal of my clothing into an event. I can barely take his drawn-out touches and the burning glances.

“I don’t like this game.” I groan, growing impatient with each passing second.

He tugs my dress up higher and parts my thighs. “I’m sure I can change your mind soon enough.”

Any reply I might have made is stolen as he presses his palm against my chest and shoves me backward. He drops to his knees and drags me toward his face.

Oh God.

A sight like that could bring a woman to the brink of orgasm alone. With the way my lower half throbs, it wouldn’t take much to pull me over the edge. Especially not with the way he stares at me. It scares me as much as it enthralls me, and I dance between the two as his fingers part me for him. My entire body buzzes as his tongue darts out, teasing me. I arch my back in response, and my thighs squeeze his head between them. His chuckle makes my clit vibrate. My fingers grip onto the comforter as he destroys my ability to think of anything but his tongue diving into me.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life. Everything about him is sensual, from the way his nails dig into my thighs as he teases me to the way he groans against me when I sigh. All is lost the moment he slips a finger inside me. His lips wrap around my clit, sucking to the point of pain. He stops every single time I near my peak. I curse him in the same sentence I praise him, and that only seems to make him draw everything out.

No man has ever made me feel

devoured

like this. I want him to make me stop hurting as much as I want him to never stop fucking me.

I nearly crack and beg for him to finish what he started but I hold out. If he expects me to break, he has another thing coming. I’ll make him work just as hard to prove a point.

I won’t yield for him. Not in a boardroom and not in the bedroom.

Declan rises to my challenge with vigor. My sensitive clit aches, begging for mercy Declan won’t give. I’m a mess as I thrash against the sheets. Declan cracks the code of my body like a nuclear bomb, and one word earns me the keys to paradise.

“

Please

.” My cheeks are damp from tears I wasn’t aware had fallen.

His chuckle sends another wave of arousal through me. “You put up a good fight. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

I moan as he slips a second finger inside, crooking the two so they glide against my G-spot. The way he sucks on my clit combined with the torture of his fingers shoves me off the edge.

My body shudders as Declan continues fucking me with his tongue. He plays my body like his favorite instrument, drawing out my orgasm for as long as possible. I expect him to stop as I come down, but his movement only grows more desperate.

My voice is hoarse as I scream out his name, and that seems to drive him

wild

. His fingers grip onto my ass as he pulls me forward, driving his tongue into me like I wish his cock would. I clutch onto his hair and tug at the strands. He groans, pressing his thumb against my swollen clit. The way he circles the flesh has me climbing until I chase my second orgasm like a shooting star.

Declan abandons my clit and pulls me into his embrace. He sucks up my cries as his mouth latches onto mine, drawing another shaky breath from me. My lips part and he brushes his tongue against mine, making me taste just how much I want him. His fingers grip onto the back of my neck, and his thumb strokes my rapid pulse point.

His kiss becomes less frantic as I come down from my high. He switches from punishing to apologetic, with the slight trace of his tongue across my bottom lip becoming my undoing.

I feel light-headed, like a high I have yet to come down from.

“Are you sure you’re a virgin?”

He gives my pussy a slap. “What did you say?”

I gasp. “I’m kidding!”

“Just because I haven’t been with anyone in a long time doesn’t mean I forgot how things work.”

“Why haven’t you? Been with someone, I mean?” I never should have asked the question. I knew it was a bad idea, yet I couldn’t stop myself, as per usual around Declan lately.

“It didn’t feel right.”

“Because you were obsessed with me?” I stroke the fire in his eyes with verbal lighter fluid.

His lips press against mine. “That’s narcissistic of you.”

I grin. “It must be contagious around here.”

He kisses me until I’m completely boneless, waiting for the next step.

What

the next step?

“Shouldn’t we discuss what happens next?”

He grabs my palm and presses against his jeans, right over his rock-solid cock. His lips trail a line of kisses down my throat.

I rub his erection with my hand before retreating. “So what? We have sex?”

He nips at the sensitive skin at the hollow of my neck. “Not everything needs a plan.”

“But—”

He drags his hand up my body and caresses the edge of my breast. “Do you want this or not?”

It feels as if he placed a loaded gun in my hand. “This will complicate things.”

“I can guarantee it.” His touch grows bolder as he traces my sensitive nipple through the fabric of my dress. “Now that we settled everything, do I have permission to fuck you?”

“You seem far too excited by the prospect.”

He grins in a way that makes his whole face light up. I commit his look to memory so I can obsess about it later. His body presses me into the mattress as he leans forward. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him until I can’t take it anymore. Until I’m dizzy and desperate for more.

My hands shove at his chest. He takes his weight off me and stands.

“What—”

I cut him off as I stand and grab the hem of his shirt. “Off,” I order.

He complies with my command, revealing a chest of pale, muscular flesh. I sigh at the sight. His body deserves to be a national

monument. If I didn’t suffer from an insane amount of jealousy, I would nominate him myself.

“Like what you see?”

I smirk. “Depends. Is it all for show or do you have the stamina to back it all up?”

He shoots me a lopsided grin I feel straight to my heart. “I swear you like stirring me up.”

“Only because I like unraveling you so much more.” I run my hands down his abs, tracing each curve with the tips of my fingers.

He shudders as my hands reach to remove his belt. I slide down onto my knees, and a hiss escapes him.

“Relax,” I say with the utmost confidence despite the rapid beat of my heart. I’m quick to shove his jeans past his thighs, revealing the bulge straining against the material of his briefs.

The outline of his cock makes my mouth water. I become crazed as I tug his briefs down his legs, not stopping until his cock bobs in front of me. A bead of arousal leaks from the tip. I’ve lost all sense of self as I lick him from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip, tracing my tongue over the pearly white drop.

Rather than grip my head, he clutches onto my chin and forces me to look up at him. “This is better than anything I could have imagined.”

My cheeks burn. “Think of me often?”

“Regrettably.”

I’ll show him regrettably. I grab one of the bows holding up my dress and tug on the string. Our eyes remain locked together as I move onto the next strap, pulling at the strand until both sides of my dress fall. The material puddles around my lap like a halo.

His eyes widen as they drop to my chest.

“Eyes up here.” I snap my fingers and point them at my face before taking his cock in my mouth.

He hisses as I alternate between sucking him off and tracing his shaft with the tip of my tongue.

“Did you think about this?” I reach out and cradle one of his balls, earning a groan before I take him in my mouth again. He pushes his cock farther down my throat. I’ve felt powerful in many

situations, but nothing compares to the high I get watching Declan lose himself in the pleasure of my touch.

“Or how about this?” I take him deeper than ever before while sucking in long drags of air to prevent my gag reflex. The salty taste of him coats my tongue, and I suck at his tip to get another taste.

“More like I think of this.” He pulls away, taking his cock with him. My mouth falls open as he swoops in and throws me back on the bed.

He makes quick work of discarding my dress, leaving me blinking up at the ceiling, naked and waiting. I slide across the comforter as he drags me toward the edge of the bed. My limp legs hang over the side, dangling as he shoves them open.

He slips a finger inside me, dragging it back and forth before adding another. “Who knew you liked sucking cock that much?”

I rise on my elbows. “Driving you wild seems to have an addicting quality to it.”

Based on the smile on his face as he turns away from me and grabs a condom from his nightstand, I think he liked my answer.

One can only hope I’m rewarded for my honesty.

I watch him slip the condom on his shaft, and I’m hit with another wave of admiration for him. Knowing he is willing to put aside his goal to get me pregnant makes my whole chest ache.

He steps between my legs again and lines himself up at my entrance. My breath catches as he drives forward, slamming his hips against mine. Tears prick my eyes from the burning sensation of him stretching me.

He wraps my trembling legs around his waist, and I hiss at the tightness.

“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I look forward to fucking the lies right out of you.” The look of hunger in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. His nails dig into my hips as he withdraws, only to slide into me again. The air is knocked straight out of my lungs as his tempo shifts to something I can only describe as insatiable.

His onslaught destroys any sense of control I have over the situation. He throws one of my quivering legs over his shoulder

before adding the other, changing our position so I can take more of his abuse.

A burning desire in my lower half intensifies with each slap of his hips against mine. I claw at the sheets. His chest. His thighs.

Anything to ground me as he memorizes my body like a language only he can translate.

His pumps never cease, and my orgasm starts to build inside of me. He runs his thumb across my clit before drawing small circles with the pad. I detonate like a bomb, warmth exploding in my chest as he shoves me over the edge of no return. My eyes slam shut, only to snap open again as he pinches my clit.

“Look at me.” The rough whisper of his command sends another round of liquid fire through me. I shatter around his cock without breaking eye contact. My release seems to spark his. His fingers dig into my flesh as his cock drives in and out of me like a man possessed. He groans, fingers tightening around me as his head drops back and he comes. The sight of him unraveling devastates any last hope I have of keeping him at arm’s length.

I found my newest addiction, and it happens to be my fake husband.

DECLAN

“W hy did you use a condom?” Iris asks as she tugs a clean T-shirt of mine over her head.

I busy myself with digging through a drawer. “I wasn’t about to kill the moment by asking if you wanted to try for a baby.”

She laughs. “I appreciate the thought, but I know what I signed up for.”

“So, what, us having sex is just a way for you to fulfill your end of a contract?” My tone carries more bite than intended.

“I never said that.”

“Then what?” I snap.

“I mean, I know we agreed to having a child via

in vitro

, but if we are attracted to each other, then maybe…” Her voice drops off.

Is she fucking kidding me? If we are

attracted

to each other? The way she minimizes our connection makes me want to throw her back on the bed and show her how

attracted

she is to me. It’s bullshit is what it is.

You’re angry at yourself because you’re developing feelings and she

isn’t.

Fuck yeah, I’m angry. I hate this discomfort growing in my chest with each ragged breath as much as I hate the way she is the one person I can’t control.

I slam the drawer shut, which makes her wince. Her reaction only adds to my already deteriorating mood.

Rein your temper in before you do something you regret.

I’m quick to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before grabbing my wallet.

“Let me explain.” She grabs onto my arm, but I shrug her off.

“I don’t want your explanation.”

What I want is silence and some time to think by myself because something I’m doing isn’t working. I chased. I conquered. Yet she still won’t acknowledge the obvious feelings growing between us.

“Where are you going?” She follows me down the hall.

“Out.” I don’t look back at her as I barrel down the stairs.

“It’s late.” Her voice edges on the side of panic as she follows behind me.

almost

turn around, but I can’t. Not when I feel like

this

. I don’t even know what this even is, but I want to claw at my chest until I have the ability to rip my useless heart out.

“Don’t go. Not like this.” She grasps my chin in her hand and forces me to look at her.

“Tell me why you don’t want me to go.”

“It doesn’t feel right.” Her reply is instant.

“Why?” I press.

She bites down on her lip and glances away. “Because you’re upset.”

“Try again.”

One more chance and then you’re walking away.

“Because I don’t want you to go.”

“Better, but not good enough.” I lean forward and kiss the top of her head before walking out of the house.

She doesn’t stop me again, although I wish she had.

I drive around Chicago without any destination. The empty feeling in my chest only intensifies with each mile I put between Iris and

myself, much to my frustration. I don’t want to be away from her, but I don’t want to be around her either. Not when I feel out of control and one sentence away from destroying all the progress I’ve made up until this point.

I refuse to give her another reason to question our relationship, even if she doesn’t know we are in one in the first place. But how do I convince my wife by contract that we are meant to be together by choice?

The question plagues me for a whole hour. Nothing I come up with seems to be good enough, and I always circle back to the same issue.

I’m hopeless and desperate by the time I knock on Cal’s door.

He opens it not a minute later. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“She called you.”

His lack of a smile is the only confirmation I need. “Whatever you did, go back and fix it.”

“Why do you assume it’s me that did something wrong?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question?”

“Fair enough.”

He sighs. “Come on in. You look like you could use a person to talk to.”

I walk past him and enter his apartment. He keeps the place pristine, a complete opposite of what anyone would expect given his wreck of a personal life.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

Cal acts like a good host, bringing me a glass of water and a tumbler of my favorite whiskey. “Thought you could use both.”

“You don’t even like whiskey.”

“No, but I like my brother.

Sometimes

.” He grabs the bottle and places it down next to the tumbler just in case.

I pick up the water and leave the whiskey on the coffee table.

Alcohol will only make matters worse, and I need a clear head.

“While I’m flattered you came here to seek out my advice, I’m not sure I’ll be able to help much.”

“Because?”

“Iris is my best friend. I’m not going to help you if it means hurting her.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her, dumbass. I’m trying to show her that I care about her,” I snap.

Cal’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

These are the moments I wish life had a rewind button.

“You care about her?

Really

?” The mystified look on his face reminds me of the day I told him Santa wasn’t real.

I press my lips together to avoid saying anything else.

He grabs my glass of whiskey, takes a sip, and unceremoniously spits it out, straight back into the same cup.

To think we are related.

“Well, this changes things.”

“How?”

“I thought you would make her fall in love with you, not the other way around.” His head drops back as he laughs, his voice hoarse.

“I never said anything about love.”

He only laughs.

My teeth grind together. “Are you done?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just too fucking good. You married her thinking she would make your life easier, only to realize you like her. A lot.”

Cal makes me feel like I’m the punchline of some joke.

“I don’t know why I thought coming here was a good idea.” I stand.

“Wait.” He holds up his hand. “I’m sorry. It was shitty for me to laugh at you when you’re obviously going through a hard time.”

Except his eyes

twinkle

from withheld laughter.

“I’m leaving.”

He blocks my exit. “Stop. I’ll help you.”

I raise a brow. “I’m starting to doubt you even know how.”

“You might not like my advice, but if you’re willing to try it, then I think you’ll be happy with the results.”

“I’m listening.” I sit back down.

“Iris isn’t much different from any other woman. She has wants, needs, and fears.”

“To think I thought you would be helpful.”

He glares. “If you want her to fall in love with you, you have to prove to her how you’re different from all the men she has dated before.”

“That can’t be too hard. They were all disgustingly average in every single way.”

“Unfortunately for you, you fall into the same category.”

My frown deepens. “I highly doubt that.”

“You can either argue every point I make or you can shut up and listen to someone else for once.”

I do one slow blink.

“There was always something that held her back from going all in, but the reasons all stemmed from the same issue.”

“Which was?”

“They never fully earned her trust.”

“All I’ve done is given her reasons to trust me.”

“Your whole relationship is a lie.”

I glare. “No, it’s not.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Easy. Start with the truth and go from there.”

“What truth?”

“The fact that there is probably a part of you that has been in love with her for a long time, way before you ever signed a marriage contract.”

There he goes again with the L-word. It could explain my insane need to keep Iris close and protect her from harm’s way. The way my chest feels all tight when she is gone. How my heart beats faster whenever she is in the same room as me. My intense need to mind my words so I don’t hurt her.

Shit.

I am falling in love with Iris. The signs were all there, and I ignored them because I didn’t truly understand them.

Instead of an intense wave of panic at the idea of loving Iris, I feel calm. Love I can work with. I might not know how, but I’m willing to learn. For her and

only

her.

I switch my water for the whiskey. “I feel like I’m going to need something stronger for the rest of this conversation.”

Whoever said

the truth will set you free

is a dumbass. My legs feel weighed down by invisible cement blocks as I walk inside the house.

I throw the keys on the counter and make my way toward the stairs, only to change paths toward the bright light on the other side of the house.

A lamp in the corner of the living room basks the space in a low light.

Iris, still dressed in my T-shirt, lays sprawled out on the couch with a blanket covering the bottom half of her body. One of her hands still clutches onto her phone as if she is waiting for a call.

She stayed up for you.

I instantly regret my decision to turn off my phone after she called me the first time. It was a rash choice made in the heat of the moment, but it was clearly the wrong one.

I lift her carefully in my arms, being mindful not to wake her with any sudden movements. She mumbles something before snuggling up to my chest. My chest tightens as I look down at her, wondering how the hell I ended up married to a woman like her.

You know how.

My teeth grind together as I let out an agitated breath. Iris’s head bobs with the movement, but she doesn’t stir.

I carry her up the stairs and toward my room. Somehow, I’m able to get her tucked into bed without waking her up, although she mumbles a few things in her sleep about her mom.

I shower before crawling into bed and tugging Iris against me. I intertwine her legs with mine, securing her to my body so she isn’t able to escape in the morning.

IRIS

Iwake up sweating and unable to move anything but my head.

Somehow, I ended up in Declan’s bed, trapped by his arms

and

legs.

The audacity of this man is unrivaled. I try to escape his grasp, but it only seems to make things worse. His arms tighten around me as he mumbles something unintelligible into my hair.

“Declan.” I push against his chest.

“Shh.” He kisses the top of my forehead before releasing a soft sigh.

“Wake up.” I shove him a bit harder, and that seems to do the trick.

He blinks up at the ceiling before looking at me. “Good morning.” His arms remain locked around me, equally as irritating as his legs securing me to his side.

“You can take your

good morning

and shove it up your ass.”

He laughs, and I’m instantly peeved from the way the sound warms my insides like alcohol in the dead of winter.

“Is there a reason I’m in your bed?”

“Because I wanted to be able to do this.”

My back hits the mattress right before his lips press against mine.

The kiss is a complete contrast from yesterday’s desperation, and I

find myself growing frustrated with how controlled Declan appears.

It’s soft, sweet, and far too tame after the kind of sex we had.

How can he kiss me like that after walking out on me? Blood rushes through my ears, making the tips hot.

I shove at his chest. “Get off.”

“No can do.”

“What?”

“I’m holding you hostage until you hear me out.”

My mouth drops open. I try to budge, but he created a cage with his limbs.

You fell for the oldest trick in the book.

Instead of kissing him, I should have been trying to get out from under him. Declan had me completely dickmatized, goddammit.

“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”

“You don’t deserve ten seconds, let alone ten minutes of my time.”

“How about ten words then?”

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I am falling in love with you, Iris Elizabeth Kane.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Declan Kane just admitted that he is falling in love with

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“This is just another part of your game.” I try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge.

“It stopped being a game for me a long time ago.”

“You’re lying.”

His brows pull together. “Ask me why I hate when people use Times New Roman instead of Arial.”

“Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?”

“Because I chose it for

you

.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I read somewhere online that sans serif fonts are easier for people with dyslexia to read, so I changed my requirements. Forced everyone else I oversee to switch with me or else they would face my wrath. All because I wanted to help

you

.”

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply. What can I possibly say that could compare to

that

Declan doesn’t give me an option as he continues. “Want to know why I kept the cactus?”

I nod.

“Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh.”

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

His eyes dart away from my face. “Ask me why you were denied the job transfer.”

There’s absolutely no freaking way.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

His lips press into a thin white line. “I couldn’t let you go.”

“I can’t believe you right now.” I push at his shoulders but it’s as effective as moving a boulder.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not proud of it.”

“You sabotaged me.” My voice cracks.

His face softens. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I spent months on my presentation, perfecting it to the point of obsession, only to be rejected because you were too selfish to let me go? Who does that?”

“Someone who doesn’t understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance.”

“You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I’m stupid?”

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

“Intelligence has nothing to do with this.”

“Easy for you to say when you’re not the one who feels like a fool.”

“Really? Because based on your reaction today, I’m feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I’m falling in love with you.”

He slips off the bed, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

“Declan…” I reach out, but he takes a step back.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It

hurts

“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don’t expect that and I’m not sure if I ever will because I’m the furthest thing from lovable. I’m selfish, rude, and don’t know the first thing about being in a relationship with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me.”

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is

unlovable

? A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I slide off the bed and walk straight into his chest. His arms stay plastered against his sides, so I grab them and wrap them around my waist.

“Just because you make selfish

choices

doesn’t mean you’re a selfish

person

. At least not completely.” The man protected his brothers from their alcoholic father for years without any kind of payback. If that isn’t a selfless sacrifice, I don’t know what is.

“Your logic is half-baked at best.”

“So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable.”

His body tenses. “I’m stating facts.”

“I don’t know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it’s not true. Your brothers love you.”

“They’re obligated to.”

“No one is

obligated

to love someone else. Blood or not.”

He takes a deep breath. “You’re right.”

I smile up at him. “I could get used to hearing those words.”

He reaches up and cups my cheek. “Give me a chance and I’ll tell you them every single day.”

I sigh and look away. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me what’s stopping you.”

“You don’t do relationships.”

“Good thing I’m married then.”

I shake my head. “Our marriage isn’t even real.”

“A scrap of paper doesn’t define what we are. Feelings do, and mine are a hundred percent genuine.”

I avoid his penetrating gaze. “What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

“It’s cute you think you can outrun me, but I’ll give you a head start just to make things interesting.”

I stammer. “Do you always have an answer for everything?”

“Not for the one that matters most.” The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.

Longing

I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the

what ifs

. I’m done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I’d rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his. He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his stubbled chin. “This could be a disaster, but I’m willing to try.”

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected. Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn’t enough. While Declan might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. No translation necessary.

IRIS

The next weekend, I wake up to absolute chaos downstairs. I roll out of Declan’s bed, run to my room to get dressed in something other than one of his T-shirts, and freshen up in the restroom.

It doesn’t take a super sleuth to find out where all the noise is coming from. I make my way through the house, following the sound of Cal’s voice.

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Cal claps his hands as I walk into the living room.

“What is going on?” I check out the usual spread of donuts, mimosas, cigars, and other contraband materials.

Declan doesn’t bother answering me as he stares at the TV. With the way he analyzes the black screen, one would think it was actually turned on.

“Your husband here invited us over to watch an F1 race.”

“

?”

“Rowan and Zahra are late, as per usual.” Cal grabs a donut and demonstrates what he thinks they’re doing.

“They’re coming

here

?”

“Surprise?” Cal looks over at the man in question.

“The batteries are dead.” He announces before leaving the room.

If I expected any answers, I’m not about to get them from him.

“He really didn’t tell you?”

“No. It must have slipped his mind.”

Or he wanted to surprise you.

My heart could possibly burst from the reality that Declan planned this all for me. I dropped the idea after he protested it, so knowing he went out of his way to plan it anyway…

It makes me want to kiss him.

Or fuck him.

Or kiss him

and

fuck him.

Cal holds up the sparkling apple cider bottle with a scrunched nose. “Do you have some exciting news to share with me or is this an insult to injury?”

I laugh. “I’m not pregnant.”

Declan re-enters the room. “Not yet at least.”

My whole body feels about twenty degrees too hot. The way this man looks at me makes me wonder if it’s possible to get pregnant via intense staring and palpable longing. Inquiring minds want to know.

“Well, that’s my cue to go find something stronger to drink.

There’s no way I’ll get through being the fifth wheel without wanting to chop my own dick off.”

Declan shoots Cal a withering look as he leaves the living room.

“So…” I start.

He uses the now working remote to turn on the TV and find the right channel.

“What’s the real reason you planned this all?”

His back muscles shift underneath his T-shirt. “

Gezelligheid

.”

I pull out my phone and stare at the search bar with a pinched expression.

“G-E-Z-E-L-L-I-G-H-E-I-D.” He spells it out slowly without me even asking.

“Where did you learn this one?”

“During my month studying abroad in the Netherlands.”

I laugh when the page loads. “

Cozy

? That’s why you did this?”

He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. It’s about creating a place where people can relax and feel happy.”

“Since when do you care about making people happy?”

“I couldn’t care less about anyone else’s happiness besides your own.”

My chest aches from his confession. “That has to be one of the sweetest—but extremely fucked up—things anyone has ever said to me.”

“Fucked up how?” He seems genuinely confused by my statement.

“Because you should do nice things because you want to, not because you think it would make me happy.”

“I

want

to make you happy, so therefore, I do nice things.”

Well, I can’t exactly debate his kind of logic on that one, especially when it makes me want to kiss him until we’re both breathless.

I bite down on my lip. “What happens when what makes me happy goes against what you want?”

His gaze darkens. “Then I’ll convince you otherwise.”

My head tilts. “That’s not how relationships work.”

“We aren’t a typical relationship, so therefore, the same rules don’t apply here.”

“There might be a time in your life when you can’t convince me.

What then?”

“When it comes to you, I’m not opposed to using any means necessary.”

“Including torture?”

He cups my cheek and draws me toward him. “Is it still considered torture if I let you come?”

“I’ve unlocked a sexed-up monster.”

He laughs as he pulls me into a searing kiss that makes my toes curl. With the caress of his tongue against mine, our conversation is erased from recent memory.

The doorbell rings, and Declan hesitates to let me go. He tugs me back toward him for one last kiss.

The doorbell chimes again, and I laugh as I leave a scowling Declan behind to go answer the front door. I throw it open to find Rowan and Zahra standing hand in hand on the porch.

Zahra looks over at me with a smile. “Hey!” She doesn’t give me a chance to say anything before she barrels into me and throws her arms around my torso. “I’m so excited to hang out with you!”

“Me too,” I wheeze.

Declan’s shadow seems to make everyone freeze in place.

“Declan.” Rowan tips his chin.

“Thanks for coming over.” He holds out his hand for Rowan to take.

Rowan’s lips twitch as he ignores it and throws an arm around his back and gives him a pat. “Your threats made me curious.”

“Threats?” I ask.

Declan doesn’t pay any attention to my question as he shoots Rowan a death glare.

chapter 24