The Exes Protocol

18. Iris

Mom sniffles. “I can’t believe my baby is getting married.”

“Please don’t cry.” I couldn’t bear it if she did. I’m pretty sure I would crack under the pressure and confess this whole plan if she sheds a single tear.

“It’s hard not to. I always dreamed of you finding someone who made you happy.”

Something in my chest twinges. “You have?”

She nods. “I was worried I made a bad impression on you when you were a child. That I let my bitterness toward your father get in the way of showing you how to move on despite the hurt.”

“Mom—” I want to tell her no, but I can’t find it in me to tell any more lies. The truth is, my mother’s experience with my father weighed heavily on me while growing up. It changed something in me, and a fake marriage isn’t going to fix that. If anything, it only proves what I already know. Love is something that only exists in fairy tales and Dreamland movies. The reality is much bleaker.

As if she reads my thoughts, my mom continues, “Not all men are like your father. It took me a long time to realize that, but I’m glad you learned far quicker than me.”

“Right.” My voice cracks. I’m about two seconds from falling apart.

She cups my cheek with her hand. “I’m proud of you for finally opening up to someone. For risking your heart knowing all the possibilities—good and bad. You’ve come so far.”

My throat tightens uncomfortably, and I look away to avoid her gaze, afraid she can read the truth in my eyes. There’s no way in hell I would ever open myself up to loving Declan. While I consider him a friend, he wants nothing to do with me in that way.

Nana steps out of the bathroom. “Are we done with all the sad stuff now? This is a wedding, not a funeral.”

Mom and I burst into laughter, and the moment is gone like it never happened in the first place. But the tight feeling in my chest still lingers long after the topic changes. Conversations about my father always stir up old demons, but today’s festivities might as well be a welcoming party for them.

Most girls dream of the day they walk down the aisle. I, on the other hand, always knew I would dread the reminder of growing up without a father. My mother offered to stand in his place, but I wanted to walk alone. I promised myself ages ago that I would just to prove a point to myself that I don’t need him. I didn’t back then and I sure as hell don’t now.

The music plays on cue. Everyone stands and turns their attention toward me. My entire body trembles from all the unwanted eyes assessing me, and I release a shaky breath.

You got this.

I smile beneath my veil, hiding the way my eyes prick from unshed tears. My eyes lift toward my destination. I nearly stumble as I find Declan’s eyes locked on me, but I catch myself. Whatever burns in his gaze sends goosebumps across my skin. I’m not sure I have ever seen Declan look at me like this, but it does something crazy to my heart rate.

I march down the aisle like a dedicated soldier reporting for duty.

Declan doesn’t take his eyes off me, probably to make sure I don’t make a run for the closest emergency exit. Something about his gaze today has my stomach feeling light and bubbly.

…Or it’s because of the last-minute champagne Nana offered me.

Because there is no way in hell that my boss gives me butterflies. The idea alone makes me want to cackle up to the roof like a madwoman.

Yeah, definitely the champagne.

I’ve always been a bit of a lightweight.

Declan, like me, stands alone. I’m not sure why he didn’t choose one of his brothers to be his best man, but I’m somewhat relieved given my lack of options for a maid of honor. I don’t have many friends. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m too busy working all the time. Cal offered to step in and wear a pink suit for me, but I declined, saying pink wasn’t his color. We both know it’s a lie. But it seemed better than facing the reality that he is my only friend to speak of.

I stop at the front of the aisle and turn toward my fiancé with a hesitant smile. His jaw locks as his eyes roam over me, making my

skin flush under his scrutiny.

His hand traces the edge of my veil. I catch the slight tremble he tries to hide by fisting the fabric. Declan has always hated big crowds. Something about them makes him nervous, not that he would ever confess such a thing to a single soul.

But I know, and the secret makes me smile.

“Relax. Just pretend they’re not here,” I whisper low enough for only his ears.

He doesn’t reply as he lifts the veil up and over my head.

Whatever he sees has him blinking twice.

“Is everything okay?” I whisper.

His head does the smallest shake. “You look nice.”

Whatever buzz I felt all the way to the tips of my toes dies a quick death.

I. Look. Nice?

Is he kidding me? He could have said anything—

literally anything—and it would have sounded a hell of a lot better than

nice

Screw him.

I did not spend five hours in a salon chair, being poked, prodded, and waxed for him to say I look

nice

As if Declan can sense my brewing feelings, he grabs my bouquet of flowers and holds it out for someone. Both his hands clutch onto mine, locking me into place. Whatever expression on my face warrants a warning squeeze. Instead of allowing my anger to get the best of me, I plaster a fake smile on my face and give the priest a nod.

I’ll show him nice.

Jackass.

The priest begins his lecture, but I can barely hear him over the erratic beat of my heart. Declan’s hands tighten around mine as the priest speaks about love, commitment, and hardships that will test us. I feel like a fraud for nodding along, feigning adoration. I’m sure to check the back of my dress to make sure I didn’t catch on fire for lying in the house of the Lord.

The rest of the ceremony is a blur with an exchange of standard vows. The closer we get toward the end, the heavier my breathing becomes. It’s not until Declan grabs my left hand in his that I nearly go into cardiac arrest.

“Iris, I offer you this ring as a reminder of my commitment to you, our marriage, and our future. Let it serve as a symbol of my devotion to you, from this day on.” Something about his words makes me pause. He could have promised his everlasting love or something equally nauseating for the crowd, but he didn’t.

Because Declan Kane doesn’t show his cards. Admitting he’s madly in

love with you in front of a packed church isn’t on-brand.

He silences my thoughts as he slides a thin platinum band covered in diamonds up my finger.

The two sentences I mulled over for weeks escape me as I grab Declan’s ring from my mom’s waiting hand.

“Umm—”

Real smooth, Iris.

If Declan is annoyed at me stumbling over my words, he does a good job of not showing it. I clutch onto his left hand while holding onto his ring with the other. “Declan, I give you this ring as a symbol of my promises to you, as your partner and friend. May it serve as a reminder that even during our hardest days, you can always count on me to stand by your side.” I slide the band past his knuckle.

Our eyes connect. Something passes over his face. He almost seems angry, but that can’t be right?

Sad?

I somehow stop a laugh from escaping me.

No, that can’t be true either. Declan has nothing to be

sad about.

As if Declan realizes he revealed a tiny part of himself to our audience, he regains control over the emotions on his face.

And we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming.

The priest continues his spiel about trying times and the sacredness of wedding vows. He blesses us, our future children, and everyone attending our wedding.

And then the dreaded moment I blocked from my memory comes to light.

The priest steps backward toward his altar, giving us some space.

“I pronounce you husband and wife. Declan, you may now kiss your bride.”

My eyes widen. Everyone around us goes silent. I don’t have to see them to know they’re curious about us. Declan hasn’t ever been seen with a woman, let alone kissing one.

My whole body shudders as Declan wraps one hand around the back of my neck. His fingers tighten, and his thumb traces my fluttering pulse point. The world shuts off as my boss leans in toward me, the expensive scent of him washing over me.

My knees go weak, and Declan’s other arm wraps around my waist to stop me from falling. He positions me in a way that hides our faces from the audience, keeping our private moment to ourselves.

This is it.

He leans forward, and our breaths mingle together. I shut my eyes as his soft lips brush against the corner of my lips.

Wait, what? Not even a whole kiss?

It was nothing but a tease meant to appease the masses surrounding us.

He pulls away, leaving only a centimeter between us. His eyes are screwed shut as if he is in pain.

Embarrassment makes my eyes sting. I whisper, “That was hands down the worst kiss in my whole life, and that’s saying something given my last ex—”

Declan’s lips slam against mine, shutting me up. A buzz that starts from my lips spreads through my body like a brushfire, and I’m lost in the feel of his lips pressed on mine.

My arms lock themselves around his neck like a lifeline. I feel like I’m lost at sea, drowning in all the sensations consuming me. The press of his chest against me. The weight of his palm burning into the small of my back. The brush of his finger across my neck, so soft it seems reverent.

I’m snapped out of the moment with a roar of applause.

Declan’s lips press against mine one last time as if to brand me with his touch. His forehead touches mine, and the sweetness of the gesture has my heart threatening to beat itself straight out of my chest.

What is he doing? More specifically, why are you feeling this way?

I have officially lost it. For some reason, this chemical attraction to Declan doesn’t quite match my preconceived notion.

While he might be considered cold to the rest of the world, he makes me

burn

“They bought it.” His rough whisper feels like being doused in ice water. Something about his comment causes a tight ball to form in my chest, growing until it consumes my heart.

His words shouldn’t hurt. This is a ruse after all, yet the ache refuses to abate.

Maybe because you bought it too.

DECLAN

Ifind it difficult to tear my eyes away from Iris as we walk down the aisle toward the exit of the church. She is the embodiment of elegance and grace, with her smile as dazzling as the new diamond band on her finger. The ring serves as a reminder of her promise to me.

I wasn’t sure if we would ever make it to this point. After my failed engagement, I thought we would hit a snag. That maybe Iris would wake up one day and decide this was a huge mistake. But finally, for the first time in two weeks, I feel relief.

The pressure against my chest lessens with each step away from the altar. With one part of my inheritance complete, I only have one more standing in my way of becoming CEO.

Make it through the rest of today before worrying about that.

I twist my wedding ring with my thumb, testing the feel of the metal pressing against my skin. It doesn’t feel as oppressive as I expected. Iris chose a simple band that draws little attention to the eye. Both of our rings get a single message across.

Married

Two ushers open the doors. Together, Iris and I walk out into the bright sunlight overhead. One of the photographers stops in front of

us and yells out our names. I wrap an arm around Iris’s waist and pull her against me, ignoring the way she tenses in my grasp.

Her reaction doesn’t surprise me, but it still frustrates me. After the heated kiss we shared, I thought she would have gotten used to my touch by now, but I was wrong. She erected another barrier between us instead. The detached look on her face has me testing boundaries. I want to recreate the look on her face right after our kiss, before the reality of our situation set in.

I run my hand down her back, tracing the row of ivory buttons.

She does nothing but shoot me a cold smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

I absolutely despise it.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I whisper in her ear before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her fake laugh grates against my nerves. “Why would anything be wrong?”

I grimace. “You don’t look happy.”

“Unlike you, some of us can’t fake it 24/7.” Her voice can barely be heard over a gust of wind.

“What are you talking—”

“Let’s get a photo of a kiss before they let the guests out!” the photographer yells.

I grin at the nervous laugh Iris lets out. The click of the camera goes off, catching the moment.

“I think they’re coming out now,” Iris calls out.

“Then make it quick!” he replies back.

I shouldn’t give in to his demand, but I’m interested in seeing if our kiss was a one-off or a testament to our chemistry. The kiss I shared with Iris in the church was electric. The kind that shouldn’t feel as good as it did, given our circumstance.

The kind I am about to recreate with the hope that the buzz I got after was only a product of achieving the first task of my inheritance.

My arms curl around Iris’s back, tugging her against me. Her lips part and her eyes shut as I lean forward. Sparks break out across my skin as our lips touch, and liquid heat spreads through my veins.

Kissing her is addictive. Thrilling. So damn wrong I can’t help questioning why it isn’t right.

She’s your assistant.

I nip at her bottom lip to distract myself from the thought. She gasps, and I suck up the sound before it has a chance to be heard by the photographer.

You’re paying her to have your child.

My kiss turns more punishing, and she seems to respond well to my desperation. She groans as her arms wrap around my neck. Her bouquet tickles my skin, and I’m surrounded by the smell of flowers and Iris.

The photographer coughs. “All right. I got the shot.”

Reality hits me like a bucket of ice water, and I break away before I tug Iris back against me and repeat our kiss for more selfish purposes than a photo. Our kiss wasn’t some fluke or a high I got from completing my grandfather’s request. It’s far worse than that.

Iris blinks up at me with dilated eyes.

She is affected by you too.

It should fill me with some relief to know she is equally struggling, but I’m far too concerned about the fall-out of a discovery like this.

Before I have a chance to wrap my mind around what is happening between us, the doors behind me open. Hundreds of guests pour out of the church. They gather in a circle, suffocating us.

I hate the way they batter us with compliments almost as much as I despise the way the crowd grows larger by the minute.

Iris latches onto my hand. “Relax. Focus on me.”

That’s my issue. I can’t focus on anything

but

her.

I can’t bear looking at her for longer than a few seconds. The urge to steal her away from the crowd is difficult to ignore, and it wouldn’t take much for me to crack.

Remember what’s important here.

Iris remains silent as we are both shuffled into the Maybach. I spend the entire car ride to the reception location reminding myself of how acting on my attraction is not possible. Regardless of the two kisses we shared, nothing matters more than keeping things

professional between us. We have far too much riding on our positions to be getting lost in a fleeting attraction to one another.

My future is more important than satisfying some momentary urge to kiss Iris. I just need to keep telling myself that.

I hate weddings. They’re a cliché excuse for people to drink alcohol on my tab, all while pretending they actually care about my new marriage. They don’t. Everyone is solely here because no one would be stupid enough to turn down an invitation to what Iris deemed

the

wedding of the decade

Unfortunately for me, I still have three more hours to get through, including cutting a cake right now.

A different photographer from earlier calls out for us to look at the camera. “Can I get a shot of you two with the cake?”

“Why did we agree to so many damn photos?” I frown as I grab the silver cake cutter from a server’s tray.

Iris smiles up at me. “Because we are going to share snapshots with the world to prove just how much we love one another.”

“Why should they care?”

She laughs, and the bulb of the camera goes off. “Because you’re a famous billionaire who is in the business of selling fairy tales.”

I groan. “Fame is temporary.”

“So is discomfort, so get used to it.” She presses her hand on top of mine so we are both grasping onto the knife.

Being near her is the furthest thing from uncomfortable. Rather, the warmth of her touch sends a wave of want through me. I step closer to her so we can both approach the cake.

You’re pathetic. What happened to not wanting to get close to people?

I shake my head. I’m not trying to grow closer to Iris, but it’s hard to avoid her when everyone keeps pushing us together.

“Declan, a little more smiling please?”

I glare at the photographer.

He gapes. “Never mind.” His flash goes off, catching me mid-death stare.

Iris laughs. “I need that one sent to me ASAP.”

I shoot her a look, and she only laughs harder. My chest tightens at the sound. Compared to the icy display she put on earlier for our guests, it feels good to make her warm back up to me.

And this is why you need to stay away from her. Because this feeling in

your chest?

Merde.

The photographer snaps another photo before I dismiss him. My mood takes a turn for the worse, and I barely pay Iris any attention as we cut the cake. We go through all the motions. She feeds me and I feed her. A few people gasp when she smashes a bit of cake in my face, and I return the favor by shoving a spoonful of cake into her mouth while she is mid-laugh.

Nothing about it is real. I’m detached, but not enough to miss the flicker of hurt in her eyes when I abandon her for the bar. I’m a dick for leaving her to manage the crowd that formed around us. I know it with every fiber in me, just like I know sticking around her is weakening my resolve.

I didn’t marry her for love, money, or affection. I married her because I’m a greedy asshole who will stop at nothing to get what I want, even if it means subjecting her to the same fucked-up happily ever after as me. A few kisses and some touching isn’t going to change our destiny, so why pretend this is anything but an arrangement?

It’s all for the best.

At least I tell myself as much as I knock back my first drink of the night.

Alcohol doesn’t solve anyone’s problems.

My stomach rolls. The feeling has nothing to do with the drink I burned through and everything to do with the idea of using alcohol to cope. A bartender rushes over to fill my glass, but I push the empty tumbler out of reach.

You’re not him.

I step away from the bar before I do something I will regret.

IRIS

“M ore shots!” Rowan’s girlfriend, Zahra, clutches a bottle of tequila in her hand. She wobbles on her heels, and Rowan swoops in to stabilize her.

My stomach does a little flip at the loving gesture. Watching them interact is nauseating, with Zahra smiling up at Rowan like he hung the moon for her. I’m oddly fascinated by their interactions given my limited exposure to happy couples over the years. Maybe there is some hope after all if someone as grumpy and isolated as Rowan could look at a woman like

that

I shouldn’t be bitter at my own wedding but seeing as my husband has avoided me as much as humanly possible after we cut the cake, I’m not doing too well. Something shifted in him ever since the church, and I can’t help but wonder if it was our kiss.

“What did we say about tequila?” Rowan plucks the bottle out of Zahra’s hand.

“That we should never trust a man named Jose.” She crosses her arms with a pout and drops into the chair beside me, making the material of her dress poof around her.

Rowan’s chest shakes from silent laughter as he pulls up a chair beside Zahra.

Cal grabs the bottle and pours tequila into four shot glasses. “You can’t leave a wedding sober. It’s sacrilegious.”

“You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word,” Rowan replies.

“My wedding, my rules!” I pass Zahra a shot glass.

“Whatever the bride says goes.” Zahra grins as she knocks back her shot. She leans into Rowan and whispers something in his ear.

Whatever she says has him swallowing the first shot before pouring himself a second one.

He tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers something in return that has her cheeks blushing.

Gross

. I grab my glass and pull it to my lips. Except the rim never touches my mouth because it’s stolen straight from my hand.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Declan’s rough voice does something to my heart rate.

Cal waves the tequila bottle in Declan’s direction. “Come on. Sit down with us and have a celebratory shot.”

Declan shoots Cal a scathing look. “I think you’ve done enough celebrating.”

“She’s a big girl. If she wants to drink on her wedding night, it’s her choice.”

“

She’s

right here.” I stand on my two feet. The room spins around me, and I grab the back of my chair to catch myself. “I’m fine. Stop fussing over me.”

“You smell like spring break in Mexico.”

Something about his comment has me muffling my laugh with a shaky palm.

His lips pull down into a frown. I take a few wobbly steps toward him before clutching onto his tux so I don’t fall over. I use one hand to push the corner of his scowl up into a smile. “There. All better.”

“We’re going home.” Declan’s arm wraps around me. The move reminds me of our kiss in the church, which only makes my cheeks hot underneath a pound of makeup.

I pout. “But why?”

“You’re intoxicated.”

“It’s a wedding!

Our

wedding!” I struggle to focus on Declan’s three heads. “Hey, why aren’t you drunk?”

His three heads merge into one angry version. “Because one of us has some self-control,” he snaps.

“It’s all Cal’s fault!” I blurt out.

“Hey!” Cal throws his arms up.

“He did steal a bottle from the bar. I saw him take it myself,”

Rowan backs me up.

Declan points at Rowan. “Don’t get me started on you.”

The way the three of them interact has me raising a brow in Zahra’s direction. “See. I told you they never get along.”

Zahra smiles. “

Yet

.”

“I like her already,” I say aloud instead of in my head.

“Let’s go,” Declan snaps.

“Don’t forget to text me! I want all the details,” Zahra yells.

I throw her a thumbs-up over my shoulder. Turns out she is the only other person besides Cal and Rowan who knows about the whole sham. Not that I would tell Declan. I’m pretty sure he would murder Rowan for risking our big secret like that.

Declan steers me toward the exit of the ballroom.

“Wait!” the wedding planner yells. “You can’t go yet! We haven’t even tossed the bouquet!”

Declan lets out the longest sigh ever. My chest vibrates from withheld laughter.

He turns me toward him. “What’s so funny about this?”

“You hate every second of this.”

“Are we getting off on each other’s displeasure now?”

“Like you’re one to judge. That’s your favorite kind of foreplay.”

His reddened cheeks make me smile.

One point for Team Iris.

Tati has the DJ request for all the ladies to gather around on the dance floor for the bouquet toss. Declan holds on to me as if he’s scared I might topple over due to my unsteadiness. I imagine he only does so because he wants to make sure people buy our marriage.

So much for forgetting about what he said in the church.

My mom passes me the bouquet with a knowing smile. “I was holding onto it for you.”

“You’re the bestest mom in the whole wide world.”

She shakes her head. “Take care of my girl, Declan. Try to get her to sleep before she enters the drunk crying phase.”

“Tell me she’s joking,” he orders as my mom walks away.

I giggle.

“Fuck me.”

I pat his cheek. “Only in your dreams, sweet husband of mine.”

“Did you burn off all your brain cells tonight?”

“Come on!” a woman yells. “Get on with it, you two!”

I turn around, giving the crowd my back.

“One. Two. Three!” I launch the bouquet over my head.

I turn on my heels and almost slip from the rush, only for Declan to catch me and pull me into his firm chest.

Firm chest? Ugh. Maybe you are drunk after all.

The bouquet lands in someone’s open arms with a

slap

. I don’t recognize the woman who caught it, but the crowd around her squeals as they try to latch onto my bouquet with greedy hands.

“Finally.” Declan moves us toward the door before the DJ

announces Declan's turn with the garter belt.

Oh shit.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I bristle as he squeezes my hip. Cal slaps a hundred-dollar bill in the DJ’s hand as Rowan drags a chair out to the middle of the dance floor.

Cal waltzes over to help me into the chair, being mindful of the layers of lace and tulle swirling around me like a parachute.

“Careful, Iris, your husband bites.”

An unobservable blush spreads from my head to my toes.

“I hate you both.” Declan’s eyes move back and forth between Cal and Rowan.

On cue, the DJ plays the most sensual song known to man. My tummy has a thousand little champagne bubbles popping along to the beat, all while my heart rate picks up speed.

Declan bends a knee and settles into a comfortable position in front of me. His left hand shakes again before he fists it, just like it did when everyone watched us slow dance earlier.

Turns out he is human after all.

I tug him out of his nervous thoughts.

“You look good on your knees, Mr. Kane.”

“Try to not let it get to your head.” The corners of his lips twitch into that usual Declan smile. A flash of a camera goes off, catching the moment.

His hand touches my covered thigh, barely leaving a dent from the layers of material. “This is wrong,” he mutters.

“You’re right. I feel absolutely scandalized,” I speak in an off-key British accent.

His head shakes as a noise that I interpret as a laugh breaks free from him. “You’re so drunk.”

“No. I’m buzzed.”

“What’s the square root of 64?”

“Eight, fuck you very much.”

He shrugs. “Sober enough.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t reply as he lifts the fabric of my dress ever so carefully so no one catches a glimpse of me down there. My lungs squeeze, trying to take in oxygen as Declan disappears under my gown.

“Remember, no hands!” Cal calls out, and the crowd hoots and hollers. Declan pops a blind arm out and flips his middle finger in Cal’s general direction. A few people laugh while others gasp, probably as shocked as me at Declan’s rare display of feelings.

I tune them all out, focusing on the heightened experience. The scrape of Declan’s stubble against my calf. The brush of his hair on the inside of my thighs as he parts them with his head. The feel of his teeth grazing the skin around the garter, accompanied by the press of his soft lips as he clamps down around the frilly piece of lace.

I shiver, and a vibration of his throat tells me Declan noticed and

laughed

I hate him. I hate my husband so much, he is lucky I don’t choke him with the damn thing once he comes back up for air.

Declan drags the garter belt down my leg. He pulls out from underneath my skirt with the strip of white lace stuck between his teeth. With an angry yank, he tugs the material from his mouth and launches it in the air without sparing it a second glance.

“Enjoy your evening, everyone.” Declan doesn’t bother helping me up from the chair. He swoops me out of the seat and cradles me, full bridal style, adding to the crowd’s excitement.

I tap on his shoulder. “Umm, Declan?”

“What?” His eyes soften.

“You’re supposed to carry me into the house, not out of here.”

He sighs like I’m the biggest inconvenience in the world. “You couldn’t walk a straight line out the door in flats, let alone in those shoes.”

“Hmm.”

His brows pull together. “What?”

“Maybe you care about me after all.”

“That’s the alcohol talking.”

I sigh. “Jose does have a way with words.”

His arms tighten around me. “Who the fuck is Jose?”

I grin into the lapel of his jacket. “Nobody important.”

“Good, then at least no one will miss him when he’s dead.”

One might think Declan would soften a bit toward me now that I am officially his wife.

Wrong.

The moment Harrison pulls up in the Maybach, Declan all but throws me in the back seat. I drop into the quilted leather with an

oomph

, and the material of my dress fans around me like a cloud.

“Would it kill you to be gentle?” I peek up at him.

Declan ignores me as he shuts the door in my face. I’m almost positive some of my dress hangs outside, caught in the doorjamb.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I grumble.

His elderly driver nearly trips over his feet to beat Declan to his door. Poor Harrison is probably afraid to lose his job based on the scary look on Declan’s face. Not that I blame him.

But what triggered his anger?

Declan doesn’t spare me another glance as he takes a seat, which only adds to the weight pressing against my chest.

“You’re acting like a child.”

Crickets.

“Are you just going to ignore me the whole time?”

The only reply I get is the revving of the engine as Declan’s driver takes off.

“Fine.” I go to mess around with the dial to play some music, but Declan shoots me a look that has me pulling my hand back.

After a whole five minutes of silence, my tequila-riddled brain gives in.

“I forgot how fun a wedding could be. It’s been years since I went to one.”

Declan remains silent as he continues scrolling through his phone.

“It was nice to meet Rowan’s girlfriend. She’s sweet.”

His hand holding the phone tightens.

Hmm. Interesting.

“I don’t know why you don’t like her. It’s not her fault Rowan chose Dreamland over becoming CFO. You should give her a fair shot at least.”

The tic in his jaw makes another appearance, yet he doesn’t bother looking at me.

Come on. Give me something to work with.

“They invited us out to dinner tomorrow night and since we aren’t going on a honeymo—”

Declan’s head snaps up. “We are

not

going to dinner with them.”

“But you’ve barely spoken to Rowan since he decided to stay in Dreamland. I think it would be nice to spend some time with them while they’re in town—”

“I don’t pay you to be concerned over family matters.”

I clench a fistful of my dress. “Lucky for you I’m doing this for free.”

His eyes return to the screen of his phone. “Don’t bother. I’m not going to dinner with Rowan and his girlfriend.”

“Zahra. Her name is

Zahra

.”

“Her name is as irrelevant as her relationship is with my brother.”

I can’t remove the horrific look off my face. “God, your ability to hold a grudge is terrifying.”

“Consider it a lesson to not get on my bad side.”

“Lately it’s starting to feel like

every

side is your bad side.”

“Who knew having a wife would be this good for my ego?” His voice takes on a sarcastic tone.

“It’s a wife’s job to call you out on your bullshit because the rest of the world sure as hell won’t. Not when they’re too afraid to speak up around you.”

“What part of

we’re not a real couple

do you find difficult to understand?”

My chest tightens. I thought Declan and I were falling into a comfortable friendship, but his mood tonight has me questioning if he was only entertaining me so I wouldn’t back out of our arrangement.

His words from the night of our engagement come back to haunt me.

There is nothing I won’t do to earn my inheritance. Remember that

when you forget this is only a game to me.

Is that what this all was?

A game?

Now that he got his way, there’s no reason to play anymore. The idea causes a weird ache in my chest, right above my heart.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. There’s no one to blame but myself. Declan was always clear about his intentions, and I stupidly read into our relationship all wrong.

Why do you care in the first place? This isn’t even real.

Because maybe somewhere along the way, I forgot that all of this was a lie.

I don’t speak to Declan for the remainder of the drive. If ignoring each other was a sport, we would both be team captains with the way neither one of us speaks.

Once Harrison parks the car, I fight my way past pounds of tulle and lace and exit with as much grace as a newborn horse.

“Iris,” Declan calls after me.

I don’t turn around. I’m too afraid that all my emotions will be written clear as day across my face. “I’m going to bed.”

“You forgot your purse.”

The urge to stomp my foot hits me but I refrain. “Right.” Stupid purse. I knew I should have gone with the wedding dress that had pockets.

I turn back, avoiding his eyes as I pull open the door and search the empty back seat.

“Here.” His chest presses against my spine as he traps me between the car and his body. I turn, attempting to avoid skin-to-skin contact and fail. The front of his tux brushes against my bodice, sending a ripple of heat through me.

He offers my clutch. The glittery

Mrs. Kane

shines underneath the overhead lights, looking just as horrendous as the day the wedding planner gifted me the accessory. Based on the expression on Declan’s face, he equally dislikes the way his name is flaunted like a show pony. I might not have experienced the same issues as him growing up, but I’m starting to understand him a bit more. Based on the way people treated me at the wedding, becoming a Kane feels like an open invitation for clout chasers and career climbers to have at me.

I stare down at the clutch, which serves as a reminder of my duty.

Of the promise I made to Declan to stand by him no matter what.

No matter how much he schemes to get his way.

“Do you mind?” I gesture for him to move back.

He steps out of the way. I attempt to make my escape, only to be held back by Declan gripping onto my elbow. His hold doesn’t hurt, but it speaks a silent request.

Stay

But why?

“Yes?” I ask.

“Is it that bad?”

I look up at him. “What?”

“The idea of becoming my wife.”

I swear, the rise and fall of his moods tonight is driving me insane.

“And you care about my opinion all of a sudden? I’m not sure you pay me enough for that kind of service.”

His jaw clenches. “Answer the question.”

“

.”

“Must you always be this impossible?”

“I don’t know. Must you always act like an asshole?”

“It’s not an act.”

I rear back, ripping my elbow from his grasp. “Trust me. It might have taken me much longer than others, but I finally understand why everyone calls you that.”

His long blink speaks for itself. “What?”

“The way you treated me tonight—on our wedding night no less

—is unacceptable. But I guess you couldn’t care less about how or when you hurt other people’s feelings, as long as you get your way.”

“What I said in the car—”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault for setting unrealistic expectations about us in the first place.”

His eyes narrow ever so slightly.

I keep going, wanting to clear the air once and for all. “I never did all of this for love. Obviously.” An awkward laugh forces its way out of me. “I only wanted to help you because I thought we were friends. And yes, before you say you never wanted to be my friend, I’m aware it was probably stupid to think that. I’ve since learned my lesson.”

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “I realize I don’t want to be your friend either. Because getting close to you means questioning your motives about everything, and frankly, that’s way too much effort for someone who doesn’t seem to like me in the first place.”

IRIS

Ihold my head up high the entire walk toward my bedroom. Rather than feel unsettled from my conversation with Declan, I’m hit with a wave of calmness. It seems like we are finally back to where we stood with one another before our whirlwind engagement. Sure, a cake tasting and a family dinner might have been a fun change of pace for us, but that’s all it was.

A show for the masses—kind of like a Royal Tour.

It takes me a whole twenty minutes to undo hours of hair and makeup. I might have ripped off half my eyelashes from lash glue, but it’s a small price to pay for finally feeling like myself again.

By the time I get to removing my dress, I almost throw out my back trying to undo the vintage buttons lining my spine.

“Motherfucker.” I grunt as I twist and turn in front of a full-length mirror. Nothing works, and I’m stuck staring at my reflection with my hands on my hips.

There’s no way you’re getting out of this dress by yourself.

I let out a resigned sigh as I swallow my pride and exit my room.

My fist knocking against Declan’s door echoes off the tall ceilings. I stand there, waiting for him to open up. The pressure in my chest builds as time ticks by. Ten seconds turns into thirty, and before I know it, I’m knocking again. “Declan! I need your help!”

Well, that hurts to admit.

If he was sleeping, he sure isn’t now. The jangle of the doorknob gives me hope that I won’t need to fall asleep in my wedding dress tonight.

Now that’s a depressing thought.

When Declan opens the door, I want to run in the opposite direction. My heart rate goes from steady to rapid at the sight of Declan’s muscular,

naked

chest on full display.

I choke on my next inhale of breath.

Water droplets trickle down inches of pale muscle before disappearing into a white towel wrapped around his narrow waist.

He has V-cut abdominal muscles that point like an arrow to an area I sure as hell should not be thinking about right now. An area that only proves Declan is well-endowed even when not aroused.

Warmth pools deep in my belly. My eyes give him another once-over, and my hands itch to reach out and trace the slab of muscle also known as his stomach.

This can’t be happening to me.

My eyes snap up toward his face, hoping he missed my temporary lapse of sanity.

He raises a brow at me in silent anticipation.

Oh my God. He knows that you like what you see.

I try to think up a response, but my throat feels dry suddenly.

“You wanted my help?” He stops in front of me.

His help! Right!

“I can’t reach the buttons.” My voice is far breathier than I’m proud of. Given our argument in the car, I could at least pretend to be disgruntled in his presence.

Declan circles around me like a predator. His muscles shift with each step, and I’m surprised my tongue doesn’t roll out of my mouth like a dog as I pant after him.

He drags my wild hair over my shoulder, and goosebumps spread across my skin.

That should

not

be happening.

Anyone with eyes would be attracted to a set of abs. It’s evolution

beckoning us to choose a mate who can provide for us.

Provide what? Endless stamina and orgasms?

I reply.

“There have to be a hundred of them.” He tugs me out of my thoughts, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

A laugh escapes me before I have a chance to stop it. “Hundred and twenty according to Nana.”

He grunts. “Come inside so I can see them better in the light.”

The invitation is innocent, but my body doesn’t seem to get the memo as Declan ushers me into his room and toward the light on his nightstand.

“Let me go put some clothes on.”

Please don’t.

Whatever expression I have on my face makes the corners of his lips lift.

“I’ll be back in a second.” He walks toward his closet, only to look over his shoulder at the last second.

My cheeks burn from being caught ogling him.

He raises a brow. “It’s rude to stare.”

“Then don’t walk around naked to begin with. Problem solved.”

Atta girl.

He shakes his head and enters his closet without sparing me another glance.

I take a moment to observe the personal objects on his nightstand. A worn copy of

The Great Gatsby

has five different sticky notes protruding from the yellowed pages, neatly lined up next to a remote control for his TV. My eyes widen at the small cactus I bought him two years ago as a Christmas gift.

“Oh my God. It’s still alive?” I reach out and grab the tiny

don’t be

a prick

pot.

“I can manage to take care of a cactus.”

I startle at the sound of his voice. “But it’s been two years!” And he keeps it on his

nightstand

. I don’t have the nerve to ask him why that is, although the urge rides me hard.

He shuts me up by tracing a finger down the base of my spine, right beside the hundred ivory buttons. The pot in my hand trembles as his hot breath hits the back of my neck. My skin prickles in response, and I place the pot down in order to hide the way my hands shake from his proximity.

He starts with the top button, only to fumble. His frustrated grunt makes me laugh.

“You think this is funny?”

I giggle again as he slips again.

“My hands are too big.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course they are.”

“I’m not joking.”

I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. “Well, we need to figure it out because I can’t sleep in this.”

“What if I cut you out of it?”

“No!” The gown cost fifty-thousand dollars. I can’t imagine ruining it just because Declan and his hulk-like hands can’t manage some measly buttons.

He sighs as he tries one last time and fails. “Scissors or a knife?”

“You’re joking.”

“Would you prefer I rip it apart?”

“Absolutely not!” I push back, forcing him to give me some room. “I’ll be back.”

I head to my bedroom, open a box labeled

gardening supplies

, and pull out a pair of shears. They still have a little bit of dirt on them, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’ll be wearing this dress ever again, although the option to donate it is not completely off the table.

“Stupid Declan and his massive paws for hands,” I grumble under my breath as I walk back into his room.

“Here.” I shove the shears against his chest.

He looks down at them. “This is not how I expected tonight would go.”

“Disappointed?”

“

Amused

.”

Our eyes lock, and something passes between us. One look sends sparks across my skin and my heart into cardiac arrest. It’s as if our outburst in the garage never happened. While I want to be annoyed at myself, I can’t help it when it comes to him. He might be an asshole, but I knew what I was signing up for when I married him.

“Get on with it.” I turn again and hold on to my hair before he has a chance to move it for me. The less contact we have, the better.

I’m already feeling weak tonight as it is.

He grips onto the lace collar of my dress. “Don’t move an inch.”

The cold brush of metal against the base of my neck has me sucking in a breath.

I wouldn’t dare. Not with the way my legs are threatening to give out at any moment.

The sound of shears cutting through lace sends another round of goosebumps across my arms. Chilly air hits the skin at the top of my spine, and I press the front of my dress against my chest to prevent it from falling at my feet.

Declan cuts through the fabric slower than necessary, and the blunt side of the shears brushes my back with each snip.

“Almost done.” His voice is far huskier than usual.

With a few last cuts, my entire back is on display for him. He chucks the shears on the bed once the job is done. Neither one of us moves, and my anxiety grows with each second that passes. I look over my shoulder to find him staring at my bare back like a puzzle he can’t solve.

“Thanks.” I attempt to take a step away from him, only to stop when his hand reaches out and skates across my spine. My heart pounds against my chest, threatening to jump out as he stops right above my lacy thong. Lust slams into me like a fist to the face. I can’t help choking on my gasp as he traces the edge of my underwear. His fingers brush across my goosebumps, and I suck in a deep breath.

He tugs, and a white long string snaps. “This was bothering me.”

I watch with horror as the thread falls by his bare feet. Of course while I was lusting after his touch, he was thinking about a fucking string. It’s horrifying to think I wanted him to be attracted to me.

Tonight is the final wakeup call I needed. No matter how my body might react to his touch, it’s only that. A reaction of chemicals responding to pheromones. Nothing but natural selection doing its thing, pushing me to mate with the worst partner on the planet, solely because he’s hot and available.

I refuse to let myself fall for his touch again. Because next time, there might not be a string that snaps me out of making a terrible decision.

DECLAN

Iacted like a dick last night for a multitude of reasons. The way I presented myself at my wedding was the first misstep in a series of regrets, all because I couldn’t get a handle on my feelings. After all these years, one would think I would have mastered the art of not giving a fuck. It’s disappointing to know all it took was Iris in a wedding dress to ruin all my hard work.

You won’t be making that mistake again.

Not if I can help it. I stayed up far too late last night going over my new approach toward our fake marriage. Whatever happened on our wedding night is in the past. From now on, we will be more careful to avoid putting ourselves in situations that could lead to disastrous consequences.

Like you opening the door in a towel, knowing she was on the other

side?

Exactly. Not my smartest move, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.

I knock on her bedroom door with my free hand. She yells something indecipherable with a raspy voice, so I rap my knuckles against the wood again. A thud that sounds oddly like a pillow slamming against the door makes me smile to myself.

Iris might be many good things, but a morning person she is not.

I clear my throat. “I was out on my run and grabbed you some coffee.”

“From Joe’s?”

It is eerie how she knows that. “Yes.”

“French vanilla with whole milk?”

My teeth grind together. “Obviously.”

Her muffled moan through the door sends a current of energy down my spine. “And extra whipped cream?”

I sigh. “Open your door and find out.”

Her laugh trickles through the cracks of the door in the same way it seeps through my chest. I wait a whole two minutes while she does who knows what inside of her room. She finally opens it up, revealing red-rimmed eyes accentuated by smeared mascara. It shouldn’t stir up any kind of interest on my end, but the way my blood heats at her faded T-shirt dragging across her mid-thigh makes me question my sanity. It requires an unbearable amount of effort to turn my gaze away from her thighs. I take my time making it to her face, easily becoming distracted by the swell of her breasts pressed against the fabric of her T-shirt.

Snap out of it.

“Here.” I hold out her coffee like it carries an infectious disease.

Our fingers brush, sending the faintest buzz across my skin.

Her eyes snap up to my face before she focuses on the coffee cup.

“Thanks for the apology drink.”

“That isn’t what this is.”

“Okay. Sure. Whatever helps keep your fragile masculinity intact.” The sigh she makes as she takes a sip goes straight to my cock.

“I’ll be taking that back now…” I attempt to steal the cup, but she grasps it with an iron grip.

“Don’t you think about it! This has to be the best thing I’ve ever woken up to.”

“I see why your past relationships failed.” The words slip out of my mouth before I have a chance to think.

Shit, Declan. Where the hell did that come from?

I didn’t mean for it to slip out.

Say what you came here to say and get the hell out of here.

“Did you just make a jab at my sex life?” Her voice has a lethal quality to it.

No way in hell am I touching that comment. I press my lips together to avoid saying anything else.

Then you shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

Her gaze hardens. “I think it’s time we set some ground rules.”

“Rules,” I repeat back in a dry tone.

“Yes.

Rules

. You remember ours right?”

“I have a vague recollection.”

Her smile could bring a man to his knees. “Let’s review. Every look.” She drags her eyes across my body like a phantom touch, burning my skin in their wake. “Every touch.” It only takes a single finger of hers brushing across my cheek to beckon me forward like a man starved for attention. “Every kiss.” This time, she grips my chin roughly, tugging my head down. Her lips brush the corner of mine.

It’s an exact replica of my kiss at our engagement party, yet this one elicits a whole different reaction from me. “Is nothing but a lie.”

I’m rock solid beneath my running shorts. I clear my throat, blinking away the arousal in my eyes before she catches on.

So much for being on the same page.

“Fine. I concede. No talk of exes.” I have none worthy of talking about and hers are exactly where they belong.

In the past.

“Great. Glad we are in agreement on that.” She sips her drink.

“As entertaining as this conversation has been, I have things to do.”

She raises her brow. “Then why are you here? With

coffee

?”

“Because I need to talk to you about yesterday.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Well, then. Go ahead.” She takes a sip of her drink while scanning my face for emotions.

She won’t find any. I’ve made sure of it.

I start with the hardest subject first. “Our kiss…”

“Kisses. As in plural. Both of which you instigated, just to set the record straight.”

My skin burns hot under my T-shirt. “Kisses. As in never happening again.”

She smiles. “Fine. You won’t hear any objections from me.”

Fine?

I at least expected her to put up a bit of a fight. Based on the way she looked at me last night, I thought she would do something other than stare at me with a smug smile.

Maybe you read her wrong.

“While kissing you was a necessary evil for the public, we no longer need to pretend to be attracted to each other.”

Something flashes in her eyes before she recovers. “Good. God forbid you actually have to

pretend

to be into me.”

It was a shitty yet effective thing to say. My words do their damage, just like they’re supposed to. It’s for the best. The way I was compelled to touch her last night, without a single person watching us, says enough.

“Well, now that we cleared the air, I’m going to go enjoy my coffee.” She proceeds to slam the door on my face.

If this is a glimpse into what marriage is like, I see why our divorce rates are shit. I’ll be lucky if I don’t become some national statistic before our time is up.

I knew my father wanting to meet with me for lunch was a trap, yet I willingly went along with his invitation anyway. After his conversation with Iris, I’m interested in determining just how much of a problem he is going to be for me. My intuition tells me nothing about my battle for the CEO position will be easy.

My father’s brown eyes swing from the menu to my face. “Any honeymoon plans?”

“No need to act like you care on my account.”

He sighs. “I’m simply making small talk.”

Bullshit. Every question he asks and all the statements he makes always have an ulterior motive. Because of him, I became an expert in reading between the lines.

“Iris and I are leaving on Friday.” At least now we are. I don’t care what the destination might be, so long as we go somewhere.

“What about the quarterly budget meeting?”

“I’m sure you can handle reviewing my reports without me. I only get one honeymoon after all.” The corners of my lips threaten to rise.

“You seem to find a solution for everything.”

I don’t miss the double meaning behind his words. “I had a lot of practice picking up after someone’s messes over the years.”

“Do you even pretend to like me anymore?”

“I find it to be a wasted effort. You hate me and I hate you, so why bother acting otherwise?”

He dares to fake his displeasure. “I don’t hate you.”

“I find that hard to believe given our past.” One I will never forget, so long as I live.

“This is exactly why I respect you more than your brothers.

Unlike Cal or Rowan, you aren’t afraid to speak your mind.”

“We both have two very different definitions of respect.”

“Regardless, I find your efforts admirable. It’s why I consider you a threat to begin with.”

“Yet I can’t say the same about you.”

He chuckles. “I thought I taught you better than to underestimate your enemy.”

“Please. If anything, I give you too much credit.”

“You might be smart, but you let your need for revenge blind your ability to think clearly. Why else would you marry your assistant of all people? Even I didn’t think you were

that

desperate for your inheritance.”

Something snaps inside of me. “Talk about her like that again and I swear I’ll make your last twelve months as CEO absolutely miserable.”

I can work with him or against him. For the sake of the company, I’ve been willing to do the first option, but if he continues to insult

Iris, all bets are off. She has proven herself loyal time and time again, so the least I can do is defend her from scum like him.

Whatever expression he sees on my face draws a deep chuckle from him.

“Don’t tell me you actually care about her?”

I make an effort to keep my gaze blank and withdrawn.

He slowly shakes his head. “To think I considered you my smartest son. What a disappointment.”

“Is there a point to this conversation or do you solely speak to hear the sound of your own voice?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of why I asked you to come here.” His malicious smile puts me on alert.

“You might have to explain yourself given how disappointing you find my intelligence to be.”

“Consider this a warning from father to son.”

“About?”

“Your grandfather might have provided you with an opportunity to usurp me, but that doesn’t mean you will be successful. I don’t plan on stepping down without a fight.”

“It’ll make my victory all the sweeter.”

He raises his glass of water. “Let the best Kane win.”

I tap mine to his. “He already did.”

“I need you to book a trip.” I stop at Iris’s desk. After spending the entire drive thinking over my father’s conversation, I came to one conclusion.

I need to commit to my role as a doting husband—honeymoon included.

Iris looks up from her desktop with a pinched expression. “To Tokyo?”

“No. Pick a place.

Any

place with running water and Wi-Fi.”

She looks around the room and under her desk.

“Searching for a hidden camera?”

The faintest smile crosses her lips. “Either that or a wiretap. Just to be clear, I have never nor will I ever take drugs. Whatever green substance you might find in my room is definitely Cal’s.”

“Funny,” I reply dryly.

“Do you ever laugh?” she asks.

“Only when I make people cry.”

Her face contorts as she slams a palm against her chest. “Cal is right. You

are

a monster.”

“A monster who expects you to have a honeymoon chosen by the end of the business day.”

“A honeymoon? Wow!” She looks far too excited about the prospect for my comfort.

“Don’t get any ideas. This is strictly for appearances.”

“Appearances?” Her grin is snuffed out.

“I’m positive that my father will do everything in his power to delegitimize our marriage. It is up to us to make his attempt futile.”

Her lips purse. “By going on a honeymoon? How is that going to solve anything?”

“It proves I care enough about you to take my first vacation in over a decade.”

She laughs. “You must live such a sad life if you think sacrificing work for a honeymoon is a declaration of your affection.”

“Is it not?” Did she not hear a word of anything I just said? I don’t take vacations. Doing so should silence any doubts about our relationship.

Wouldn’t it?

“No. It’s not.”

I grimace. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Her eyes roll. “Sure. We can do things your way since you have

much experience when it comes to relationships.” She mumbles something about

men always think they know everything

under her breath.

I knock my fist against her desk. “Book the plane for Friday.”

“

This

Friday?”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

She squeals. “No! Even if it was, I refuse to let this golden opportunity go to waste. I haven’t had a vacation in

years

.”

“At least you finally get something good out of all of this.”

She slaps her desk with a stern look. “You mean there’s supposed to be something better than marrying

you

? I refuse to believe it.”

I turn and walk toward my door, hiding the grin spreading across my face. Iris is the only person with the ability to make me smile.

Not that she knows it. I’ve done everything in my power to hide how much sway she has over my moods.

IRIS

If someone told me a month ago that Declan would hand me his black card and tell me to plan a honeymoon, I would have sent them to the nearest hospital to get their head checked. But low and behold, Declan does just that.

“Money is no object,” he says before disappearing behind his double doors.

I squeal as I spin around in my chair.

“Keep it down,” he calls out from the other side of the wood door.

I clamp down on my lips while I grab my cellphone and text Cal.

Me:

Guess who is going on a honeymoon after all?

Cal:

How did you make him crack?

Cal:

Waterboarding?

Cal:

Sleep deprivation?

Cal:

Sex???

Cal:

Wait.

If it’s the last one, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.

I laugh as I type up my response.

Me:

Your father.

Cal:

*Pretends to be shocked.

Me:

Do you want to help me plan something?

Cal:

I’ll be there in 15.

“No.” I shove a dumpling into my mouth.

“But it’s Bora Bora,” Cal replies with an exasperated look.

I shake my head. “Sounds boring.” Good thing Cal can’t see the way my cheeks burn from the lie.

“What is wrong with you?”

More like what

could

be wrong with me if I were to choose a honeymoon location that would require Declan to walk around shirtless and wet all day long. Even I know my limits, and that is one of them. After the little show I got last time Declan was shirtless, it’s best we don’t test the waters.

Cal uses the computer mouse to scroll through the newspaper article recommending the

Top Ten Honeymoon Spots in the World

“How about Maui?”

I scrunch my nose. “No.”

“Fiji?”

“Pass.”

“I swear, with the way you’re acting, it’s as if you don’t want to go on a honeymoon at all.”

“I do!” Just not anywhere that might require us to take our clothes off.

He stares me down. “What about South Africa?”

Huh. Now that is an idea…

“Tell me more.”

He looks absolutely horrified by my interest. “You can’t be serious. You would choose a safari over Bora Bora?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not romantic.”

I frown. “This might be a honeymoon, but it isn’t meant to be romantic.”

“Clearly or else you would have chosen something else.”

The more Cal pushes me on it, the more I find the idea of going on a safari appealing. Nothing says

hands off

quite like bug spray, motion sickness, and watching animals devour each other. With a busy trip like that, the risk of Declan and I doing something stupid is slim to none.

I throw my napkin on the table and pat my distended belly.

“That’s it. We’re going to South Africa.”

Cal groans, and I smile.

Case solved.

Planning a trip to Africa at the last minute is stressful. I need to juggle Declan’s busy schedule, doctors’ appointments so we can get our shots, and calling safari lodges to see who has availability at the last minute. I do all this while working from nine to nine every single day.

Declan is absolutely useless when it comes to planning anything, so I’m stuck doing everything on my own. Flights. Travel itineraries.

Sleeping arrangements. Everything falls on my shoulders since Declan doesn’t care where we go, so long as I post a few photos and make it seem like we are having a good time. His words. Not mine.

Because of his attitude, I don’t feel bad booking the most expensive safari lodge on our list. I even book a trip to the salon to get my hair braided—all on his personal card. That’s what he gets for being so cold and unfeeling about the whole process. The least he could have done was ask me if I needed any help. Or even thanked me for putting all this together at the last minute, all so he could prove to everyone how we are some happy couple.

It’s the smallest things that make people feel appreciated. Not that Declan cares.

I sigh as I stare out the car window.

“What’s wrong?” Declan doesn’t bother looking up from his phone.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how I need to finish packing for both of us tonight.” The lie easily rolls off my tongue. It’s not like Declan cares about my feelings on the matter.

Declan remains silent.

“Is there anything in particular that you want me to pack for you?” I ask.

“No.” He frowns as he types against the screen.

Is this how my life is going to be for the next three years?

Speaking to someone who is permanently attached to their cellphone?

The emptiness in my chest intensifies as the minutes go on.

Declan remains oblivious, and I only sink further into my funk.

What did you expect? To get married and for him to instantly have a

change of heart? The world doesn’t work like that.

At the very least, I thought Declan would give me a bit of his time, given the fact that I’m his wife now.

Don’t go wishing for things that will never happen.

I sigh again. This time, Declan doesn’t bother commenting on it.

How can he when he is too busy answering the phone and yelling at someone on the other end?

Story of my life.

My phone buzzes in my hand. I unlock it to find Cal’s latest text message.

Cal:

Did you ever get around to thanking my father for your impromptu honeymoon yet?

Me:

I’ll be sure to send him a thank you basket when I get back.

Cal:

Should I tell him to look out for a faint ticking noise?

Me:

Don’t ruin the surprise! That’s the best part.

Cal responds with a row of laughing emojis.

Declan drops into the captain’s chair across from me. The flight attendant is quick to ask him if he needs anything, but he simply ignores her by tapping on his tablet screen.

“Sir, I’m here to service you in any way you need. Please don’t hesitate to ask for anything during the long flight.” She bats her lashes at Declan.

Service him? Gross.

Declan remains oblivious to her obvious innuendo. He doesn’t bother to look up at her despite the way she stands beside his chair, drooling all over the carpet.

I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t even bother turning in my direction. “The captain said the trip should be a smooth one. I’m curious what made you pick South Africa?”

“I’ve always wanted to go on a safari.” As of three days ago, at least.

She dares to shoot me a scathing look over her shoulder. Is she really going to ignore me while flirting with him? He’s wearing a

wedding ring

for crying out loud.

“My husband and I will take two glasses of champagne, please.”

I lift my left hand in the air to get her attention, and the diamond reflects a rainbow of colors across the ceiling.

She peers over at me with a raised brow. “Excuse me?”

Excuse

you

I grind my teeth together. “Actually, you might as well bring out the whole bottle. We’re in a celebrating mood.”

“You’re married?” Her eyes swing back and forth between us before landing on Declan’s ring. The way her smile falls elicits my own.

“Get my wife whatever she wants.” Declan doesn’t look up from his tablet.

My stomach flutters in a way that has nothing to do with flying jitters.

“Of course. Right away, sir!” She rushes to the back of the private jet.

“Right away, sir!” I echo her enthusiasm with a roll of my eyes.

The corners of Declan’s mouth lift as he feigns interest in whatever is on his screen.

I glare. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I do find your possessiveness entertaining.”

“I am

not

possessive.”

“Hmm,” he responds. His fingers go

tap tap tap

on the screen.

I shift in my seat, and the tips of my braids brush against the small of my back. “Okay, whatever. Even if I was, it’s warranted. She shouldn’t have flirted with you while you’re wearing a wedding ring.”

“I see.” He drags his index finger across the glass before tapping on the tablet screen.

“What aren’t you saying?”

“I’m curious why you feel the need to flaunt your marital status whenever you’re insecure.”

My mouth drops open. “I am not insecure!”

“I’m aware of your trust issues.”

Is he for real right now? He’s one to talk about trust issues when the man has a seventeen-digit code to unlock his

cellphone

“Is this the part of our relationship where we share our deep-seated daddy issues?” I coo in a joking manner despite the thundering pace of my heart. “Because I’m pretty sure we could spend the whole flight debating who had it worse growing up.”

He shrugs. “Defensive as always.”

This motherfuc—

Relax. He’s good at stirring up people’s insecurities and using them to

his advantage.

Instead of giving in to his taunts, I pull out my phone and busy myself with my email inbox. Sorting messages is a soothing task that keeps my mind numb.

Despite my best efforts, my thoughts drift.

Trust issues? Who is he to call me out on such a thing?

Everything about him screams trust issues, from the thirty-page prenup I signed to the way he won’t open up despite my knowing him for years.

He readjusts his position in the chair. “You can trust me to remain faithful.”

“As if that was a concern,” I bite back.

His brow raises in silent question.

“Everyone knows about your sleeping habits.”

“And what are they?” His eyes lighten with amusement.

“You don’t sleep around and you don’t date. Half the company thinks you’re gay while the others think you visit a sex club to let off some steam every week.”

“I’m disappointed at their lack of creativity.” There is a tightness in his voice that wasn’t present a moment ago.

“I tried to help them all by spreading a rumor about a woman who secretly visited your office on Fridays, but it only lasted a year.”

“Why the hell would you say that?” His neutral expression morphs into something terrifying. If it weren’t for the crazed expression on his face, I would be proud to have ruffled his feathers like this. It is no easy feat to get under the great Declan Kane’s skin.

I become engrossed in pushing back my cuticles. “It forced people to send me their assignments earlier than usual because no one wanted to interrupt your sexy time for a signature. It was a win-win really. I was able to prepare your Monday briefing reports before the weekend and they earned promotions for their diligent work.”

He blinks at me. “You had them believe this for a

year

?”

“Are you proud of me?”

“No.”

“You should be. I was so committed to the storyline that I even hired a few women to leave your office at 5 p.m.” I waggle my brows.

“Please tell me you didn’t charge this to my personal card.”

I grin. “Nope. Considered it a business expense.”

He rubs his eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I know everything about you, and then you open your mouth and say something like that.”

My cheeks heat and I hide my bashfulness with a smile.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“It’s expected.”

“Because I’m your wife?”

His response is interrupted by the flight attendant showing up with our bottle of champagne. She pops the cork and moves to pour

us a glass, purposefully leaning forward. One peek at her cleavage pushes me into action.

I interrupt her. “I got it.”

Her face reddens as she places the bottle on the table and leaves.

“Jealousy looks good on you.”

“Oh, shut up.” I fill the glasses and swipe one for myself.

Declan rewards my brazenness with a deep chuckle so low, I can barely hear it over the hum of the plane’s engines.

I smile in return as I lift my flute in the air toward Declan. “To the vacation I desperately needed.”

He begrudgingly grabs the other. “And the honeymoon I never wanted.”

I tap my flute against his. “Cheers!”

It takes me two whole days to recover from a severe case of jet lag.

By the third morning, I am feeling better than ever. My head brushes against my silk pillowcase as I turn on my side and stare out my panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bush. The moon glistens off the surface of our private pool, and I’m tempted to dive in to wake myself up.

I stretch my legs before doing a celebratory wiggle in bed. I haven’t had a vacation since before I started working for Declan, so the idea of spending ten days off the grid has me wanting to dance my way through my morning routine.

The sound of my alarm breaks the silence. If I wasn’t used to waking up early for work, the 5 a.m. schedule here would have sucked big time. I’m quick with getting ready given my limited choices of safari-appropriate clothing.

By the time I make it to our living room, I expect Declan to be annoyed that I’m ten minutes late. Except Declan isn’t here. I spin around in a circle before making my way through our private villa.

His room is located on the opposite side of the place, giving him an equally beautiful view of our pool outside.

A muffled noise comes through the bottom of his bedroom door.

I turn the knob and push his door open, finding Declan bent over a desk, looking fresh as a daisy in a three-piece suit. I try my best to ignore the way his ass sticks out, but my eyes linger on his form-fitting pants because I’m not blind. Although the little jolt in my heart concerns me enough to avert my gaze back to his face.

I frown at his attire. “You can’t go out like that. The lions will eat you alive.”

He ignores me as he scribbles something down on a notepad.

I check the time on my phone. “We’re supposed to meet with the ranger in five minu—”

“Sorry, Mr. Kane, what was that?” a woman’s voice cuts me off.

He glares at me as he holds a finger to his mouth.

“Just my assistant checking in on me. Carry on, Ms. Tanaka.”

Tanaka

. Of course Declan would answer a call from Mr. Yakura’s assistant. She and her VIP boss are one of the few people who have direct access to Declan’s personal line.

Ms. Tanaka spouts something off in Japanese and Declan responds without missing a beat. Watching him shift between languages always impresses me. Whether it is Spanish, Portuguese, Mandarin, or Japanese, the way the words roll easily off Declan’s tongue is something to be admired. I’ve tried to pick up on a few words here and there while listening in on his conversations, but I never had a knack for any kind of words—let alone foreign ones.

While Declan speaks to Ms. Tanaka, I enter his closet and start unloading his luggage. I make quick work of the job since I was the one who packed everything anyway. The suit was a surprise, and I’m somewhat peeved Declan thought to pack it in the first place. We were supposed to be on the same page about all this, including no work.

Because really, what is the point of going through this entire sham of a honeymoon if he is going to work the entire time. That doesn’t scream happily in love.

Ms. Tanaka finally ends the call, and I exit his closet with a safari-approved outfit. “Here. Change into this.”

“We’re not going.”

I blink at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

His eyes shift from my face to my trembling arm holding onto his clothes with an iron grip. “Mr. Yakura wants to meet in a few hours to discuss the latest proposal.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. The man is impossible. I’m close to abandoning the land and sending the scouts out to find me a new location.”

“But—”

He doesn’t let me finish. “I refuse to give up when I’m this close to securing the deal, especially after I promised the board I would follow through on delivering Dreamland Tokyo.” He paces the width of his room. His large body makes me feel as if the walls are closing in around me.

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m understanding you.”

“He finally gave me some concrete feedback about my proposal and would like to meet to discuss it further—”

“I’m not talking about the proposal!” I throw his clothes on the bed, wishing I could chuck them at his face instead.

Declan’s brows pull together. “You’re upset.”

“No, Declan. I’m disappointed.”

“You of all people should understand how important this is to me.”

I throw my arms in the air. “That’s exactly my problem. I understand your needs even at the expense of my own.”

I instantly want to take back the words, if only to erase the scary expression on Declan’s face.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve spent three years of my life making sure you’re taken care of, even if it meant sacrificing my happiness to do so,” I blurt out.

So much for keeping yourself in check.

His lips flatten, turning the pink color white from the pressure of his grimace.

Abort mission.

“Never mind—”

“Is that how you really feel?” he cuts me off.

It takes all my willpower to not break eye contact. “Yes.”

“Why?”

His question throws me off. Does he actually care about how I feel? He has never made it a point in the past to check in with me about my needs, and there have been plenty of opportunities. Like the Christmas I missed because he planned a business trip or the hundreds of plans I had to cancel last minute because of some Kane Company emergency.

Over the last three years, my life slowly disappeared until my identity became

Mr. Kane’s assistant

This is your chance to confess how unhappy you’ve become with your

job.

I open my mouth to speak my mind but something in his gaze stops me. The skin around his darkening eyes tightens.

His phone rings, cutting through the silence. The hand clutching onto it hesitates.

He doesn’t want to deal with your shitty mood right now when he has

more important things he needs to handle.

I put on my best smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Forget it. I’m being extra grumpy from jet lag and waking up earlier than usual for our safari. It’s nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix.”

His phone stops chiming. “Listen—”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t expect—” The shrill ring interrupts whatever he was about to say.

“You better get that. Sounds important.” I nod my head and offer him a tense smile.

His mouth opens, but I don’t stick around. The last thing I hear before shutting his bedroom door behind me is his deep rumble of a voice barking an order at an innocent caller.

Declan, like the complete asshole boss he tends to be under most circumstances, sends me a recorded voice note requesting that I make a PowerPoint

just in case

Mr. Yakura wants a visual aid for his meeting.

The only visual aid I want is of my hands wrapped around Declan’s neck, stopping his airflow.

Okay. Turn it down about ten notches.

Once I rein my temper in, I get back to work. It takes me two hours to create a PowerPoint based on our combined messy notes.

What would take a normal person an hour to compile takes me double because I have to triple-check each slide for errors. The last thing I want is for Declan to berate me for a silly typo or incorrect punctuation mark.

After I finish the slideshow, I send Declan a message sarcastically asking if he needed anything else from me. I should have expected it would backfire. Declan throws task after task my way, each more irritating than the last.

Check in with our Tokyo sponsors to make sure they are still interested.

Contact the head of marketing and have him send me an estimated

expense report.

Schedule me a last-minute meeting with Rowan before Yakura jumps on

the video call.

The more demands he places, the stronger my anger becomes.

I’m supposed to have ten days of vacation time. After being denied three years’ worth of paid time off, I want my break.

need

it.

Maybe you want more than that.

My head drops into my hands as I let out a frustrated groan.

While I appreciate my job and the many opportunities Declan has given me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

Better yet, I don’t

want

to do this.

I’m turning twenty-four this year and what do I have to say for myself? Most of my life revolves around Declan and making sure he has everything he needs to be successful. I even married the man so he achieves everything he dreamed of—all because I care about him way more than he could ever reciprocate. He gave me a chance when no one believed in me, and for that, I owe him.

My actions say more about me and less about him. I put my needs aside because I thought it would make me happy to help

others. And while it feels great to see everyone else achieve their dreams, it leaves me with a gaping hole in my chest.

Nothing will change unless you do.

Maybe Cal was right. If I keep making excuses for myself, I will never find the right time to take the next big step in my life.

Yet you tried already and failed.

I sigh. Despite all the failures in my life, somehow not being hired for an entry-level HR position stings the most.

So what if you failed? You’re never going to accomplish anything

worthwhile if you keep to your comfort zone.

But what about Declan?

The voice that has had far too much say over my past decisions speaks up. And like always, I listen, pushing aside my thoughts as I get started on Declan’s next task.

DECLAN

There’s been something off about Iris ever since I told her we needed to cancel our safari for the day. I thought she would get over her mood by noon, but I was wrong. She only speaks to me through email, despite being a quick walk away from my bedroom, and she avoids all the common areas of the bungalow. The way she ignores me makes me far more frustrated than I would ever care to admit.

I consider checking in on her a few times but think better of it.

Whenever she’s gotten irritated at work, I’ve found it best to leave her alone to sort out her feelings. She knows the stakes here, and she of all people knows how much this deal means to me. It would be ridiculous for her to think I would tell Yakura no after the struggle I went through to get him on the phone.

Our meeting time closes in, and Iris still hasn’t come to set up the computer. I grab my phone to call her, but it turns out that I don’t need to. She walks into the living room with her laptop tucked beneath her arm.

The ever-present tightness in my chest whenever she is around intensifies as I scan her from head to toe. Gone are her usual high heels and dresses, replaced by an all-black outfit that accentuates every dip and curve of her body.

I stand taller in her presence if only to make her notice me.

Except she doesn’t as she busies herself with setting up the computer for our video call without sparing me a glance.

I somehow resist the temptation to grab her chin and force her to look up at me, instead settling on stepping in her way. “Ready?”

Her hand clutching the charging cable tightens around the cord like a chokehold. “Yup.”

Still, her gaze doesn’t meet mine. Her lack of acknowledgment shouldn’t be a concern for me when I have more pressing issues to handle, yet I am acutely aware of the tension building between us.

I don’t like it. Not one bit.

“Iris.”

“Yes?” She assesses the login screen like it’s written in Morse code.

“Tell me what’s wrong so we can get on with our day.”

She seems to not like my command based on the way she smashes her fingers against the keyboard. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“Quit the passive-aggressive attitude and talk to me.” I cover her hand with my palm, stopping her typing.

“You’re the last person I want to speak to right now.” Her eyes finally slice into me as she steals her hand away.

What I find reflecting in them is not what I expected. She might as well wave a red flag above her head, warning me to stay away.

Yet I find it impossible to ignore the way her eyes glisten.

I have come to realize that, while her smile might be my weakness, her damp lashes clinging together will surely be my downfall.

“Were you crying?” My next breath is pinched, the oxygen fighting its way into my strained lungs.

“No.”

“You’re a pathetic liar.”

Her nostrils flare. She stands tall, barely reaching my chin. “You want me to be honest?” Her voice drops dangerously low.

“Yes.”

“Even if you hate what I have to say?”

“I can assure you I’ve heard worse.”

For a brief moment, her iciness melts away as her gaze softens.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what exactly?”

“Don’t remind me that there’s a human being locked up inside of you somewhere.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Her gaze shifts away from me as she focuses on a far corner of the room. “I—” The chiming notification on the computer screen cuts her off. Her bitter laugh fills the room. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Fuck the meeting.

The thought acts like a punch to the throat. My ragged inhale does little to calm me, and my thoughts spiral out of control.

You’re losing sight of what’s important.

I shake my head, sobering up as I unbutton the front of my jacket and settle onto the couch in front of the laptop. “We’ll continue this conversation after.” I leave no room for opposition.

“Of course,

sir

.” Her snide remark bounces off me. She accepts the call and steps out of the frame.

“Hello, hello!” Mr. Yakura grins into the camera. I try to return the gesture, but the forced smile only makes him laugh.

I don’t understand how he can be so damn happy all the time. He reminds me of a golden retriever—all smiles and good times. It’s mind-boggling how someone like him, with all the power on his side of the hemisphere, can act the way he does.

Not everyone is a miserable fuck like you.

“No need to smile on my account.” Yakura laughs.

“Good. It’s not natural.” And it requires using one too many facial muscles for my taste.

His chuckle eases some of the tension from my shoulders.

“Where’s Iris?” Yakura asks as he scans the room for her.

“Here!” Iris steps behind me, using the back of the couch as a barrier between us. The scent of her, like a warm day at the beach, washes over me. I breathe through my mouth to spare my lungs another deep inhale.

“How are you?” Yakura asks, and some of the tension in my body disappears. Iris thrives under these kinds of circumstances given my aversion to them. Small talk happens to be my least favorite form of communication, right up there with smoke signals and group texts.

Her smile seems far less forced than mine. “Everything is great.

Same old, same old over here. Just busy working my life away one day at a time.”

Our eyes meet through the camera, and mine narrow in silent warning.

“Sounds like you need a vacation. Perhaps even a honeymoon from what I hear.” He raises a brow.

Iris’s smile drops a fraction before she bounces back. “I see you heard about our news.”

“I’m a bit offended I found out the big news from my wife. I thought we were friends.” He frowns.

Somehow that word seems to be haunting me regardless of the person. I’m not sure why people are so infatuated with becoming my friend. They would find me lacking in every way, from never remembering their birthday to always leaving their messages unread.

“I sent a wedding e-invitation to your assistant since everything was such a whirlwind, but it must have not made it to you.” Iris pouts on command, like the idea of Yakura missing our wedding tears her up inside.

“She must have missed it. I get so many emails each day, I practically take up a whole cloud of storage space.”

She waves him off. “No worries. It was spur of the moment anyway.” Iris lays her diamond-clad hand on my shoulder, and Yakura’s eyes track the movement. I remain stiff in my seat as a burning sensation in my gut surges to life.

“I’d say. I never knew you two were together, although my wife had her suspicions. Part of me is annoyed she was right this entire time.”

“Your wife is a smart woman,” Iris says.

“How did you two keep it a secret for this long?”

“You know Declan. He always keeps his business and personal life separate.”

“Don’t I know it. He wouldn’t even tell me his favorite color when I asked him.”

“Green like a crisp hundred-dollar bill,” she responds with a grin.

The urge to roll my eyes nearly overtakes me.

“Is that right?” Yakura’s eyes brighten as he looks at me.

“Yes.”

Iris gives my shoulder a pat of approval. Years ago, when Iris asked me about my favorite color, I told her I didn’t have one.

Naturally, given her frequent bouts of insanity, she adopted one for me. It’s become a running joke on her end where every gift-giving occasion includes something green, as if oversaturating me with the color will make me like it.

It doesn’t. If anything, it always reminds me of

her

“Well, I won’t take up too much of your time. But while I have both of you here, I would like to discuss a unique opportunity regarding the Dreamland Tokyo proposal.”

This is what you’ve been waiting for.

My breath stalls in my lungs as I wait for him to continue.

“I would like to move forward with the project on a few conditions.”

I don’t blink. I don’t smile. I don’t do anything but stare into the camera, wondering how this proposal won him over compared to the others.

What changed?

Who gives a shit? All that matters is he wants to work together.

“Fantastic. The Kane Company would be excited to work with you and turn Dreamland Tokyo into a reality.”

He nods. “I am excited as well. But I would like you to iron out a few last details before I present the deal to the board.”

“Of course. Whatever you need,” I reply despite the tiny tic in Iris’s jaw through the camera.

Yakura claps his hands together as he reviews the changes he would like me to address, including Japanese sponsors he wants

brought on to the project. “Great. Will it be too much trouble to ask for an updated proposal with a project timeline so I can share it with the company board this Friday?”

The hand on my shoulder tightens around the tendons, but Iris remains quiet.

“No trouble at all.”

“Fantastic. I knew you would be up to the challenge.”

I’d be an idiot not to. This project is supposed to be my first big move as the future CEO, and I didn’t spend the last two years of my life working weeknights and weekends to squander it.

Iris’s nails dig into the fabric of my suit. I look up at the computer screen to find her face devoid of any kind of emotion, which is a warning sign.

Her anger is warranted but some things take precedence.

Opportunities aren’t a matter of luck, but rather hard work and sacrifices. A few more days on the clock won’t kill her. She will have plenty of chances to watch animals shit, fuck, and sleep, as long as we accomplish Yakura’s request first.

Yakura nods. “I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

The moment he hangs up, Iris rips her hand away from me.

“You find me that abhorrent?” I glare at her from over my shoulder.

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t want my hands anywhere near your neck right now.”

“I didn’t know that was your thing.”

“Murder?”

“

Kinks

.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re breaking a rule.”

“Which one?”

“No flirting.”

“Interesting. Are we just adding rules as we go now?”

“Yes, seeing as there is no how-to manual on faking a marriage.”

“Does that make you feel better?” I ask in a bored voice.

Her brows pull together. “What?”

“Putting up a wall between us when things get too real for you.”

She laughs, in a deep and wheezy way that borders on obnoxious. “I find it fascinating how you can say that with a straight face given how you treat everyone.”

I shoot her a blank look. “I don’t treat you like everyone else.”

She knows more about me than my own brothers. For her to discount that…it raises my blood pressure.

“You’re right.”

The tense breath I was holding releases from my lungs.

She finally

gets it.

She continues, “There are moments you treat me great. I’d be stupid to deny that. But there are plenty of times when I feel like I don’t matter. That my needs are merely collateral damage in your pursuit of whatever you think will make you happy.”

I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she starts making sense. Instead, I keep my hands to myself as I nod. “I see.”

“You really don’t.” She offers me a tight smile that seems all wrong. “I planned this trip thinking we could have fun together. I thought…” She laughs, but it sounds off. “I don’t know what I thought honestly, but I’m mad at myself for being surprised that all this even happened. I’m even more disappointed that I thought your work would only be kept to one day.”

The victory I felt from Yakura’s meeting disappears at her expression. Something about it raises every alarm in my head.

“Iris…”

She holds up a hand. “It’s fine. I’m going to take a walk.”

“No, you’re not.” We are in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wild animals and darkness. I don’t give a shit how angry she is.

I’ll be damned if I let her walk out.

She raises her chin with defiance. “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

The back of my neck heats. “Then as your boss, I’m ordering you to get started on the updates Yakura wants. Time is of the essence.”

Her entire body tenses. “Of course. I’ll get right on that as soon as I submit my two weeks’ notice, asshole.”

Oh, fuck. She takes advantage of my stunned state and leaves the suite before I have a chance to stop her. The front door rattles as she

slams it behind her.

Good luck trying to undo this mess.

IRIS

Iwish I could say I’m some bad bitch that was willing to take a nice little jaunt around the safari lodge property. In all honesty, I had every intention of doing just that, especially after my fight with Declan.

But I’m not a bad bitch. Not in the slightest. All it took was some rustling leaves to have me hightailing my butt to our backyard and parking myself on a lounge chair. Instead of making my presence known to the big asshole inside, I kept the lights off. I could lie to myself and say I did it so I could see the stars better, but in reality, I wanted to be alone. He was so adamant about me not leaving to the point of being a complete dick, so I feel like it is only fair.

Well, you did tell your boss you’re quitting. That’s some bad bitch

material that Cal would be proud of.

I groan. That was so stupid on my part. Instead of biting my tongue, I let my anger get the best of me. My phone buzzes for the fourth time since I walked out. Declan’s name flashes across the screen, and I sigh as I answer the call.

Be an adult.

“Tell me where you are.” His clipped voice rumbles through the phone.

“Out.”

So much for acting mature.

But seriously, who is he to order me around like that? Has he learned nothing from what happened earlier?

“I swear to God the moment I find you…”

His half-finished threat makes the back of my neck prickle.

What the hell?

“I’m fine.”

“You’re out in the middle of the fucking jungle.”

I coo at him through the phone. “Technically it’s called a bush.

Not that you would know since you made me plan everything for a trip I can’t even enjoy.”

“Shut up and tell me where you are.”

A soft laugh escapes me before I have a chance to kill it. “This is our exact problem.” I keep my voice low just in case he is looming too close to the glass doors surrounding our villa. “You continue to order me around like some disobedient housewife, and I continue to push back.”

“If you don’t tell me where I can find you—”

“I’m lounging outside by the pool.”

Our call disconnects. The pace of my heart increases with each second that ticks by. My ability to hear is drowned out by the whooshing sound of blood in my ears.

The hairs on my arms rise at the sound of the sliding door opening. I refuse to look over my shoulder at Declan, so I keep my eyes glued to the starry sky despite the burning sensation spreading across my skin from his assessment.

Declan doesn’t move for a whole minute. I consider him to be an expert when it comes to torture, given the way he makes me wait on pins and needles while he says nothing. While I have always admired his ability to make people crack under pressure, today I find it unbearable. I almost give in to the temptation to look over my shoulder and check on him, but I stay strong.

The wind conceals my sigh of relief as the sliding door glides shut again. Declan’s shoes clap against the wood deck, the thudding matching the staccato of my heart. He lingers close by as if he wants to keep his distance.

I expect him to yell at me. Part of me thinks I deserve it after walking out on him in the middle of an argument. I know it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but I’m only human. While it takes a lot to make me explode, once I do, hell hath no fury like an assistant scorned.

The rebellious part of me stands by my decision, knowing something about him needs to give. I’m not a robot. I have feelings and dreams and a hope that I won’t spend the rest of my life assisting him to achieve his goals while putting mine on hold. And if he can’t see that, then maybe it’s time I move on from my position.

I might have tried and failed before when I applied for a job transfer, but that’s what life is all about.

“We need to talk.”

My eyes slide from the stars to his face. I open my mouth to speak, but the words seem to get trapped in my throat. I’m not sure what to say. Declan isn’t the type of man who wants to

talk

. That alone puts me on edge, and I become unsure of myself.

He takes a seat on the chair parallel to mine. Unlike me, he doesn’t lean back, instead choosing to remain in an upright sitting position. The shadows cling to him like a cloak, concealing most of his face. I don’t need any light to know he is focused on me. My body does the job for me, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature outside.

“I’m sorry.” His voice can barely be heard over a gust of wind.

I turn my face away, shielding him from seeing how my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

He must take my silence as quiet approval. “I made a mistake.”

I might need to take up learning sign language because I have officially lost the ability to speak. Declan doesn’t apologize, and he sure as hell doesn’t admit when he is

wrong

. That should serve as my first warning that something is off between us.

“I don’t want you to quit.” His admission hangs between us.

“Why? Because it would suck to find a replacement?”

“No one can replace you.”

Who knew one statement could do a whole lot of damage to my heart? It beats harder as if it wants to respond for me. “I can’t do this

anymore.”

He sighs. “I know.”

“I deserve better.”

“That was never a doubt.”

I tilt my head. “I’m not happy.”

His reply doesn’t come instantly like the others. The silence eats away at my calm façade, and I find my fingers tapping against my thighs in a nervous pattern.

“It was wrong of me to make you work on your day off.”

I deflect with humor, hoping to ease the tight ball forming in my chest. “Yeah. You’re right. It was a total dick move.”

The moonlight highlights his small smile, making the whites of his teeth stand out. “You have such a foul mouth.”

“Is it just me or do you seem to have an unhealthy obsession with my mouth lately?”

“Who says it’s unhealthy?”

Oh. My. Lord. Either Declan is flirting with me or I was murdered by a wild animal and have officially ascended into heaven.

Or hell. Depends on how you look at it.

My toes curl inside of my boots before I have a chance to squash the warmth pooling in my belly.

What has gotten into you? Toes curling? Next thing you know, you’ll

be swapping out your abstinence card for a healthy dose of Declan’s dick.

Stop thinking about his dick!

I clear my throat. “It’s fine. All is forgiven.” I’ll say just about anything to make him go away. There are far too many

feelings

happening inside of me to handle any more of this conversation.

Scary kinds of things that I refuse to explore while he assesses me for weaknesses.

He rubs the back of his neck.

Is he…nervous?

No. There is no possible way.

Right?

I’m so mystified at the idea of Declan being self-conscious, I completely miss whatever he says. “What?”

“I called Yakura and told him we wouldn’t be able to send him the proposal until we came back from our trip.”

I nearly throw my back out from sitting up in my chair. “Why would you do that?”

“Because some things are more important.”

Don’t you dare ask.

My lips part.

No.

But,

I counter.

Who cares why he did it? Asking him about it is a terrible idea.

It almost seems forbidden in a way, which I know is ridiculous.

I ignore the strong voice in my head cautioning me away. “What things?”

He deflects. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

“You might have to clarify because I said a lot of things.”

“That you have spent the last three years compromising your happiness by working for me?”

I release a heavy sigh. “I was angry.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

I shoot him a withering glare. “What do you want me to say? I’ve been working for you for three years already and what do I have to show for it? I have no life, no friends other than Cal, and no future besides helping you accomplish yours. I married you despite all the red flags, and I’m supposed to give birth to a child knowing full well you want nothing to do with them. Of course I’m not happy. In fact, I’m terrified.”

That last part hurts to admit.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

I thought I would feel better after pouring my heart out, but rather, I feel sick to my stomach. Declan is far from perfect in many ways, but that doesn’t make him a bad person. He doesn’t yell at me or call me names or make me feel uncomfortable. His pay is double the usual salary, and I’ve been able to save a nice nest egg because of that.

Is he the easiest boss in the world? Absolutely not. He expects just as much from me as he does of himself. His standards are as

exacting as his attitude, but that doesn’t mean he is unfair. If anything, he pushes me to do better.

And you just admitted how much you resent it all.

My stomach churns. “About what I said—”

“What would make you happy?”

I think being struck by a lightning bolt would have been less shocking than his question. Not once has Declan ever inquired about such a thing, and I’m not entirely sure how to go about answering it.

Lots of things could make me happy, but there are very few within his immediate control.

“I—”

“Don’t think. Just speak.”

I take a deep breath. “First off, I want to be treated like a human being with wants, needs, and feelings.”

“Unfortunately, evolution hasn’t seemed to work out that little issue yet.”

I glare in his general direction. “I’m serious. That means you respect my time, energy, and willingness to go above and beyond to make our fake marriage work. You need to remember that this isn’t for

. You are the one who screwed up a perfectly good wedding contract with Bethany, and I’m the next best thing. I can be your asset or your enemy. It’s up to you to decide.”

“Anything else?” Humor seeps into his voice.

“

Are you laughing at me

?”

“Only on the inside.”

My eyes narrow into tiny slits. “Yes, actually. There is one more thing. Stop calling Dreamland Tokyo

your

project. We both have spent two years working on that proposal together, and I lost about ten friends and a boyfriend in the process, so whether you like it or not, we’re a team. I’d like to be treated as such from this moment on.”

He rubs his stubbled chin. “That’s a valid point.”

I’m not sure whether Declan is appeasing me because he doesn’t want to continue pissing me off or because he actually cares about how I feel. I’d like to assume it’s the latter reason, but knowing him,

he doesn’t want to ruin his one shot of becoming CEO. And by making me unhappy, he risks a lot more than losing an assistant.

“Great. So now that everything is settled, I’m going to bed.” I stand and take a step toward the sliding door.

“Don’t be late.”

I look over my shoulder. “For?”

“Our safari tomorrow.”

“You want to go?” My pitch rises.

“

Want

is a bit of a stretch. But I am willing.”

I grin. “Be ready by 5 a.m.” I walk across the deck and pull on the handle of the sliding door.

“Iris?”

This time, I turn around and press my back against the glass.

“Yes?”

“If you try to leave me again, I’ll make you regret it.” The slight rasp in his voice does something catastrophic to my lower half.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” His face remains blank, but his eyes rival the stars above us.

I blink. Somehow I pull myself together and nod before leaving the deck.

Declan’s words follow me all the way back to my room, but it’s not until I shower and crawl into bed that I realize what struck me as odd about what he said.

If you try to leave me again, I’ll make you regret it.

Not quit but leave

him

. Such a strange choice of words for submitting a two weeks’ notice, but I believe Declan considers them one and the same. I think he would see me quitting as a slight against him. Maybe he would even go as far as to consider it some kind of betrayal after all these years.

He doesn’t need anyone.

Cal’s voice plays on repeat in my head.

Except maybe me.

IRIS

Unlike yesterday, Declan is already waiting in the main living space for me at 5 a.m.

Sharp

“You’re late,” he grunts.

I groan. “By two minutes.”

“Here. Let’s go.” He slaps a Styrofoam coffee cup into my empty hand.

I blink at it. “Thank you?” I take a sip and sigh as the first dose of caffeine hits my throat.

He makes a noise with the back of his throat. “No need to thank me. Offering you caffeine is solely for my personal benefit. It tends to make you much more compliant.”

My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t bother answering me as he exits the bungalow.

“Someone is mighty eager to get going today,” I call out to him after grabbing my backpack with all my supplies. The sun hasn’t risen yet, so I’m stuck sticking close by Declan’s side, using the lamps on the dirt path to guide us toward the meet-up location.

“The sooner we get out there, the sooner we get this over with.”

“Please keep your excitement to a minimum. I’m afraid the experience won’t live up to your hype.”

He shoots me a withering glare.

Someone is in a foul mood this morning.

One would think I’m taking him to the electric chair with the look on his face. We make our way over to the main lodge, with me sipping my coffee along the walk.

Declan seems determined to get to our destination as fast as possible, forcing me to match his speed.

I don’t have legs like a giraffe, so I slow to a normal walking pace before my legs give up from exertion. “What’s your hurry?”

“They said to be there at 5:15 a.m.”

“It’s a vacation, not a doctor’s appointment. They can wait a few minutes longer.”

Declan mutters something under his breath. I make a show of pulling out my phone and taking a few dark photos of some plants.

He hates every second of it. His boots drag across this dirt path, tracking dust behind him as he taps away at his phone.

“What happened to taking the day off?” I ask.

Our eyes clash. Neither one of us looks away.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, with an attitude bigger than the state of Texas.”

“I must not be trying hard enough if there’s still Alaska to compete with.”

His comment makes me curl over and laugh until I wheeze. Most people find him dry, sarcastic, and downright unbearable to be around for long periods of time, but I find him funny. Sarcasm might be considered the lowest form of wit, but I find it the most entertaining. I’m not sure what that says about me though.

I stand and collect myself. “How about we call a truce?”

“A truce?” He raises a brow.

I nod. “Let’s spend a day pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. No work. No Yakura. No regrets. Give me one single day of your time without any of the other stuff bogging us down.”

“What do I get out of this?”

Well, that isn’t exactly a no.

“You get a happy wife who won’t suffocate you in your sleep tonight.”

“Think about it often?”

My grin makes my cheeks ache. “Depends on what true crime episode I’m inspired by that night.”

He presses his lips together, stopping a grin from ever forming. I can imagine he has a beautiful smile, but I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen it. Not in all the years I’ve worked for him, despite all my best efforts.

“Fine. But only because I don’t think you would survive a day in jail,” he replies.

“You’re right. Orange is so not my color.”

And I swear Declan laughs on the inside.

By the time we make it to the truck area, I’ve drained the entire cup of coffee and feel much more like myself. The safari driver and guide both greet us. Neither of them complains about us being a whole ten minutes late, and I silently mouth

told you so

to Declan while they prep the truck.

“Are we the first ones here?” I look around the empty area around our idle car.

The guide looks at me with raised brows. “I thought you knew.”

“About?”

“Our tours are meant to be a one-on-one experience so the couples can make the most out of their honeymoon together.”

Well, I suppose I must have interpreted the website incorrectly. I look up at Declan and notice the vein above his right eye has appeared.

Great

He looks down at me. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like people today.”

A laugh explodes out of me. The driver and guide look somewhat horrified, so I calm their worries. “He’s kidding…”

“I’m not,” he replies dryly.

The driver forces a chuckle while the guide looks uncomfortably at me. “We should get going then. The animals wait for no one.”

The driver hops in the front seat while the guide settles into the one hanging off the side of the vehicle. Declan gets on the special truck first. He extends his hand for me to grab, and I’m lifted onto

the tall platform with ease. His hand tightens around mine, sending a current of energy up my arm.

He releases it like it burned him.

“So, what animals are you most excited to see today?” the guide asks.

“A leopard!” I clap my hands together.

The guide whistles before giving the driver a look.

“Is that okay?” I ask, concern etching its way into my voice.

He nods. “Of course. We do our best to find the leopards, but they’re cunning creatures.”

“Oh.” My smile falls a fraction.

“We’ll do everything we can to try to find them.”

I nod. “Of course. No pressure.”

The guide turns toward Declan. “And you, sir? What animal would you like to see?”

He gestures toward me. “Whatever she wants.”

“You don’t have a favorite animal?” I ask.

“Seeing as I’m not five, no.”

I try to coax an answer out of him. “Come on. I know it was a long time ago, but think back to your childhood. There had to be at least one animal you liked more than the rest.”

He shoots me a withering glare. “Elephants.”

“

Elephants

?”

His lips twitch. “What did you expect? A lion?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“They’re overrated.”

“And elephants aren’t?”

His eyes shift toward the landscape. “My mom liked them.”

My chest tightens from his admission. The lost look in Declan’s eyes threatens my control over my tear ducts. Something about the way he speaks of his mother always seems to soften me toward him like magic.

I don’t think as I grab his balled-up fist and lace our fingers together. “She had good taste.”

A noise gets trapped in his throat before he places his other hand on top of mine, securing it to his thigh. My body vibrates like I

touched a live wire.

I look over at the guide. “All right, you heard the man. Let’s go find him some elephants.”

Declan and I have shared plenty of meals together over the years.

While most have been strictly business, there have been a select few where we didn’t have a set agenda to discuss. None of those even come close to sitting across from him now without any kind of distraction. No cellphones. No notes to take. Nothing but one another’s company to keep us occupied.

But unlike past dinners, today screams romance.

It’s a honeymoon. What did you expect?

Maybe something a little more discreet? When they mentioned a dinner under the stars in their brochure, I thought they meant a little sandwich and wine out of a canteen. What they really meant was a full-blown dining experience with white linens and top-shelf champagne.

And flowers. And a bonfire. And enough tension between Declan and me to suffocate anyone within a ten-foot radius.

“So isn’t this lovely…” I offer a tight smile.

Declan pulls my chair out before situating himself in the seat across from me. Candlelight dances across his face, bringing out the sharp dips and contours.

My heart beats harder against my chest from the way he looks at me. Our guide breaks the silence as he pops a bottle of chilled champagne for us. For a second, I consider the idea of asking him to join us with our driver, but he leaves before I have a chance.

“So…” I pour a glass of champagne and chug half of it.

“Why are you nervous?”

I should have known while I studied Declan’s tells, he did the same. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re chugging champagne like you won a Grand Prix.”

I grin. “I heard that’s the first step in becoming an F1 WAG.”

“WAG?” His puzzled expression is cute.

No. Not cute!

Declan and the word

cute

belong together as much as water and electricity. Both equally deadly.

I take another long sip of my drink. “Wife and girlfriend.”

He flicks my wedding rings. “This Alatorre crush is spiraling.”

“The man has his own charity. One that gives kids free prosthetics, for crying out loud. He is practically begging for the world to fall in love with him.”

“I’m aware.”

“You are?”

He shrugs. “I sponsor a few kids.”

I shoot him a look. “Donating to charity as a tax write-off doesn’t count as a sponsor.”

The tic in his jaw makes an appearance. “Good thing I don’t include it in the paperwork then. Wouldn’t want my donation to be null and void.” The bitterness in his voice makes me flinch.

Wait. Is he actually a

willing

sponsor? How is that possible?

Declan has grumbled about every charity event we’ve attended over the years, and it took all my power to convince him to go every single time.

His hardened gaze switches from me to the stars above. A vein appears above his eye, and I’m hit with a wave of guilt so hard, breathing becomes difficult.

Shit. Here you are making assumptions about him when he is only

trying to talk.

I want to slap myself and go back in time if only to replace that look on his face.

“It was shitty of me to assume you were only doing it for a personal benefit.”

He sighs, not breaking contact with the sky. “I don’t give you a reason to think otherwise. It’s not like I’m out here winning any Noble Peace Prizes.”

That he is not. He sure didn’t earn his reputation as a heartless businessman for nothing. People think the CEO has all the power, but the man behind the spreadsheets calls the shots. Because if it doesn’t make the Kanes any money, then it doesn’t serve a purpose, which means it’s cut from the program.

Welcome to the Kane Company where employee wages are as dismal as company morale.

But still, my whole chest aches for him because obviously I have a thing for misunderstood billionaires. “It was stupid of me to say.

I’m sorry.”

“You know how I feel about apologies.”

“Unless they’re blood sacrifices made in your honor, don’t bother.”

The corners of his lips lift.

Got him.

My smile widens, which only makes his disappear before it had a chance to form into something devastating.

“What made you want to become a sponsor?” My question is innocent. An olive branch of sorts. It might be a selfish question, but I don’t want to stop the conversation. This is a side of Declan I know nothing about, and I won’t forgive myself if he closes back up again because of my stupid assumption.

His gaze slowly makes its way back to me. “I thought Santiago’s comeback story was admirable.”

I smile, grateful he offered more information. “See! Even you can’t resist him! Face it. That man can wrap anyone around his finger, including you.”

The corners of his lips rise. “He might have been the reason I donated in the first place, but I continued because of the kids.”

“Kids?”

He pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “Here.”

I grab onto his phone like a national treasure. The first photo makes my jaw drop. It’s one of a red-headed child flipping off the person taking the photo with one metal finger. “Cute.”

“That’s Freddy.”

He knows them by name.

My heart threatens to burst inside of my chest.

“May I?” I want to keep swiping through his photos and learn more about the man who hides himself away from the world.

I want to know

everything

He nods. I swipe through a set of photos featuring three other kids. Each of them have different prosthetics, with one child

requiring four.

I recognize the location of one photo instantly.

“You all went to Dreamland?”

“They did.”

Huh. “Where were you?”

“Working.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“Does it matter?”

Yes!

I want to yell, but my throat dries up and I lose all capacity to speak. The tightness in my chest intensifies, having everything to do with how he sent the kids to Dreamland together without him despite him

wanting

to be there.

I don’t know why it makes me sad but it does. Maybe it’s because Declan has his eyes set on a position he thinks will be the answer to everything, all while missing out on what life has to offer. And frankly, that’s no way to live.

For someone hell-bent on succeeding at everything, he truly fails at life. I want to help him realize that there is so much more to everything than merely existing. That if he spends any more years skipping out on what is truly important, he might regret it later. No.

will

regret it. I can guarantee it because there will always be some new goal he thinks will fill that gaping hole in his chest. All of them will fall short. It’s a vicious cycle driven by one sad fact: he is looking for happiness in all the wrong places.

I spot all the signs I’ve become personally familiar with.

Then what are you going to do about it?

IRIS

Heavy rain splatters against the deck, obscuring our view of the bush. Dark gray clouds block out any sunlight. My faith about going out on today’s safari dwindles with each drop of water splashing against the ground.

“Do you think they’ll still take us out today?” I ask, unable to stop the hope from seeping into my question.

A lightning bolt cuts through the clouds before a rumble of thunder shakes the glass.

He shakes his head. “We’re not going out in a storm like that, regardless of what they say.”

“But—”

“No.”

I huff. “It’s a summer shower. It’ll be gone before you know it.”

Lightning strikes again, filling the sky with a bright light. He shoots me a look that requires no translation.

“Fine. You’re right.” My bottom lip juts out as I pout.

“You’re giving up already? At least make me work for it.” His eyes rival the blinding light outside. The way he stares at me, with quiet challenge, has me wanting to push back.

“Part of me thinks you like picking fights with me because it’s the only way you know how to keep me around.”

A noise gets trapped in his throat. “Why would I want that?”

“Because I think you

talking to me.”

“Is anyone else aware of what a narcissist you are?”

“I’m surprised you noticed with how obsessed you are with yourself.”

He spoils me with a small smile that gives me the same rush of pride as climbing the tallest mountain. I grin back at him, and his eyes drop to my lips. The warmth in my chest reroutes itself toward a different area of my body.

“Admit it. You like hanging around me.”

Now you’re flirting with him?

His smile only expands. “I don’t exactly hate it.”

“Coming from you, that’s practically a declaration of love.”

He blinks, and I’m hit with the temptation to slap myself.

Ugh. Why did you phrase it like that?

Because you’re too busy flirting to use your common sense.

“Well, this is my sign to go jump in front of the nearest moving vehicle.” I turn away from the sliding door, desperate for some distance.

Run while you still can.

“What do you plan on doing today?” His question shocks me.

I stop and look over my shoulder. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m curious.”

“I doubt you’re interested in whatever I have planned.”

You don’t have a plan.

Then I better think of one quick because the last thing I need is to spend more time with Declan. I’m already weak when it comes to him.

“Try me.”

Fuck.

“I’ll probably watch TV all day until my brain melts.”

“Sounds absolutely riveting.”

The glass door shakes with another rumble of thunder. I take it as my hint to get out of here before Declan asks me any more questions.

“At least you can spend the day catching up on work. I’m sure it kills you to be away from your computer for more than twenty-four

hours.” I send him one last smile over my shoulder before I exit the room.

The clapping of his leather shoes against the tile follows me all the way into the living room. I try to ignore him, but he makes it progressively difficult as he parks himself on the couch beside me, leaving only a cushion between us.

“What are you doing?” I frown.

“An experiment.”

“Pardon?” I choke the remote control.

“I want to see just how many hours it takes before your brain melts. Strictly for scientific purposes.”

Oh my God. Does he actually want to spend time with you outside of

staged events and social media propaganda?

“You want to join me?”

“I have nothing better to do.”

That has to be the biggest backhanded compliment I’ve ever received, yet it makes me smile nonetheless. Declan has plenty of things to do. He could spend the day catching up on work that is piling up during our vacation, but he would rather watch TV with me.

A fluttering sensation in my stomach makes me antsy. I shouldn’t obsess over something as small as Declan sacrificing his work to spend time with me, but I do anyway. This is a man who will make business deals from his bed with a fever of a hundred and three.

Him taking a day off to do nothing but watch TV is huge.

Don’t get used to it.

Easier said than done. Because if Declan keeps doing sweet things like this, I might start craving them. And that can only lead to one thing.

Disappointment.

I turn on the smart TV, sign into my streaming service account, and choose my comfort home renovation show, hoping it can ease the anxiety bubbling inside of me. I tuck my legs under me and get comfortable. It doesn’t take long for the weight pressing against my chest to lessen, and I’m grateful for it.

By the time the credits roll, I expect Declan to rise up and dismiss himself from the rest of my plans. He remains seated as the next episode starts automatically.

“You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to,” I offer him an out.

He only replies by grabbing the remote from the coffee table and putting the volume louder.

Well, that answers everything.

He wants to spend time with you.

My skin tingles in response, and I can’t help hiding my smile with a throw pillow.

“Another one?” he grumbles before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

I swear Declan consumes more food than an entire football team.

If it weren’t for the fact that I manage his schedule so he can make time for working out, I would be concerned about the way he eats his way through my entire stash of snacks in less than four hours.

I hit the mute button, silencing the TV. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“You’ve watched eight episodes in a row of them doing the same exact thing.”

“And I could watch another eight more without ever getting bored.” I steal back my bowl of popcorn from his lap. There’s something calming about watching my favorite home improvement couple renovate dilapidated homes. The episodes are short and predictable, which makes them an easy choice when I’m feeling out of sorts.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I’m getting inspired.”

His brows pull together. “Don’t tell me you actually want to do this one day?”

“Of course I do. It looks like so much fun!” Well, at least most of it. I could do without the leaking roofs and sewer issues that seem to pop up out of nowhere.

“They found a family of mice in the last home.” The look of horror on his face makes me crack up.

“Nothing adopting a feral cat can’t fix.”

“I’m allergic to cats.” His nose wrinkles.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about that then.”

“Why not?” His voice drops.

I laugh and return my attention back to the screen. “Because it’s going to be

house. If I want a pet cat, so be it.”

“Is my house not good enough for you?” His voice comes off flat, but his eyes are anything but.

Where did that question come from and why does his face look like I’m personally attacking him?

“Of course your house is good enough. For now, at least.”

“For now,” he repeats back with a dry voice.

“It’s not like we planned on me living there forever.”

“I know that.”

“You have a very nice house,” I backtrack.

“Not nice enough,” he mutters under his breath.

Is he actually offended by my comments? The idea alone makes my chest clench. Declan isn’t the kind to get offended by anything, but I suppose if I invested twenty million dollars into a home, I wouldn’t want to hear negative comments about it either.

I dance between being honest and polite. “It’s just that…it’s not my style.”

“And what exactly is your style then? A forest?”

My chest shakes as I release a loud laugh. “No.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“Your place is empty, cold, and devoid of any kind of personality.

It might be a house, but it’s the furthest thing from a home.”

He strokes his stubbled cheek. “That makes no sense.”

“Let me try to explain.”

“By all means, please do.”

I take a deep breath, considering how I can explain such a dark part of my life without diving too deep into my emotions. Declan only knows bits and pieces of my past. Revealing too much could open myself up to growing closer to him, and that’s the last thing either of us needs.

“My parents’ divorce wasn’t the most conventional.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

Declan doesn’t so much as breathe as I gather up the courage to continue.

“My father—if you can even call him that—was not a good guy.

He was…mean.” That feels like the understatement of the century, but I can’t find it in me to say more than that.

Declan’s hands clench against his lap. “Was he mean to you?”

I sigh. “Yes. But not nearly as bad as he was to my mom.”

His upper lip curls with a look of disgust. “Don’t do that.”

My brows tug together. “Do what?”

“Downplay your experience because someone else had it harder than you.”

I’m touched by his comment. I spent my whole life telling myself how things could have been worse. I’ve seen the stats on domestic violence. The way the vicious cycle continues until someone gets severely hurt, or worse,

dies

. Dealing with my father’s anger and hateful words seemed like a small price to pay for the future I have now. For the one my mother has too.

Wetness pools at the bottom of my eyes, and I’m quick to blink it away.

Get a hold of yourself.

I muster up a deep breath and carry on, reminding myself of the whole point of this conversation. “Anyway…my mom and I moved out of my childhood house with two suitcases and a thick wad of cash she spent a whole year saving up. She tried her hardest to sell me on the idea of moving into a shoebox apartment with Nana. I spent a whole week crying, telling her I wanted to go home.”

“What happened next?” He seems genuinely interested in hearing more, so it fills me with enough courage to continue.

“She taught me how anyone can buy a house, but not everyone can buy a home. With a house, you can buy it, sell it, renovate it.” I point at the TV. “But a home is more abstract. It’s not a place, but a feeling I can’t describe, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“A feeling,” he repeats back with a monotonous voice.

“You know, those pesky emotions you turned off ages ago?”

He frowns. “That sounds like the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

I laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.” I have to give him credit for at least listening to my story.

“Only because you’re terrible at describing things.”

I grin. “Like I said, you’ll know it when you feel it.”

At least I would hope so. The idea of Declan never finding a place to call home saddens me more than anything about his past.

What are you going to do about it?

I have an idea, but its risks are nothing short of catastrophic. Still, I can’t find it in me to stop the excitement bubbling inside of me.

You could be the one to help him make his house a home.

Worst idea ever.

IRIS

“H ey.” Someone nudges my shoulder.

“Ugh. Let me sleep.” I grab a pillow and cover my head to drown out Declan’s voice.

“There’s something outside you’re going to want to see.”

“Shh.” I tug the blanket I was snuggled into over my head.

Wait. A blanket?

I don’t remember falling asleep, let alone having the energy to grab a blanket.

“This might be your one and only chance to see a leopard, so if I were you, I’d get up. Now.”

“What?” I bolt upright on the couch. The muted TV still plays in the background. Somehow I ended up sprawled out on the couch, taking over my side and the place where Declan sat before.

Huh. Strange.

“Follow me.” He leaves me running after him as he exits the living room.

The only source of light we have is the moon shining through the windows. Declan weaves through the house before taking me toward his bedroom.

“This better not be some ploy to get me into your room.”

Despite the low light, I can make out the glare he sends my way over his shoulder.

“I’m joking.”

“Good because I have no interest in doing such a thing.”

Well, then. He doesn’t need to sound

against the idea.

“Then why are we here?”

“I was in the middle of taking a shower when I noticed something outside.” He walks straight into his dark bathroom.

I’m so focused on his story that I slip on a massive puddle. I slide straight into Declan’s back, and he lets out an oomph. He struggles to maintain his balance, but his quick reflexes save us both from taking a tumble, although my chest takes a beating after running into pure muscle.

“Why is there so much water on the floor?” I catch the reflection of a trail leading from Declan’s shower to the door.

“I was in a rush.”

He bolted from the shower for

? I don’t even know what to make of that knowledge except to concentrate on my breathing so I don’t pass out from pure shock.

He doesn’t give me a chance to harp on the details of him running out of the shower to come get me. His hand motions me forward, and I grab onto his extended palm. He helps me into the empty porcelain tub that is set up in front of a big window that faces a small river to the side of our bungalow.

“Look over there.” He points into the darkness.

“What am I looking for?”

“You don’t see it?” He frowns and leans forward.

I laugh. “It’s pitch black.”

He squints and points. “Right there. Between the two trees in front of the river.”

I try to see what he is looking at and fail. “Nope.”

He leans in closer so he can use my hand as an arrow. “Right there.”

“Oh my God.” I blink again to make sure I’m not seeing some apparition. “It’s a leopard!”

“Shh.”

Who would have thought we would find one outside our bungalow of all places? We’ve been on countless safaris and come up

empty every single time.

“How did you even see it? It’s so dark outside.”

“It set off the motion-censored spotlight. I thought it would run away before I had a chance to come get you, but it seemed more curious than anything. Probably it was thirsty enough to stick around.”

“Or hungry enough.” I shudder at the thought. Declan and I have found multiple animals all looming around the river, taking their fill of water. I’m sure some even sleep by it.

I don’t know how much time passes, but Declan and I sit together in an empty tub watching the leopard as it prowls around the area. It feels like hours pass us by as the moon slowly begins its descent.

“Did it meet your expectations?” he asks as the leopard disappears back into the bush.

“Yes!” I turn and throw my arms around him. “Thank you for remembering.”

His stiff arms eventually return the gesture, and I hold him even tighter against me. Neither one of us speaks. With the way my chest warms in his proximity, I’m tempted to stick around longer.

He clears his throat. “We should get to sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

My whole face feels like it could catch on fire. “Right. Of course.”

I disentangle myself from his grasp and jump out of the tub.

Declan stands and follows after me out of his bathroom. I’m careful not to slip on any more puddles, although it seems like enough time went by for them to evaporate.

“Thanks again. For all this.”

He says nothing, but the satisfied look on his face speaks volumes. I escape his room and crawl into bed with the biggest smile on my face.

All thanks to Declan.

I drop my empty luggage by the foot of the bed so I can answer my ringing phone.

“Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”

“I’m sorry? Did you just ask if I’m

pregnant

?” I slam a fist to my chest twice to help me breathe.

“Yes.”

“Why?!” I double-check my period tracker app despite the fact that I haven’t had sex in months.

“You don’t know.” Mom’s voice cracks.

My knees shake, so I take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“What happened?”

“There are…stories coming out about you.”

“

?”

“And Declan.”

My stomach drops. “Send them to me.”

She makes a noise. “I think it’s better if you don’t see them.”

Shit. Acid crawls up my throat as I ignore my mother and type my name into the search engine with shaky fingers. The results are horrifying. Each headline somehow seems worse than the last.

Buzzwords like fake marriage, baby clause, and gold digger. News articles I can handle, but it’s the comment sections that really sting.

After the first one claims I don’t deserve children because of the mockery I made out of marriage, I exit the internet application. If that’s the first one, I can’t imagine how awful the rest are.

My social media profiles are no better, with all of them being clogged with people sending me direct messages. Even a few direct

threats

My stomach churns. “None of this is true.”

Except, isn’t it?

I mute my phone and proceed to scream into the mattress.

Mom remains unaware of my breakdown. “Obviously not. I’ve seen the way you two interact. These soulless people are just looking to ruin anyone so they can sell a few copies.”

I have no idea what my mom thinks she saw but I refuse to argue with her. There are way bigger fish to fry.

“What am I supposed to do?” My voice shakes.

“My poor baby.” Mom’s voice cracks. “I hate that they’re saying these things about you. Them calling you a money-hungry…” Her voice drifts off, as if it pains her to finish that sentence.

Don’t worry, Mom.

It hurts me just as much. The amount of women who wrote nasty comments on my social media posts is nothing compared to the ones who privately messaged me their thoughts. I set my accounts to private, but the stain of their words still lingers.

I’m so close to cracking with each shuddery breath I take.

“Don’t let these people get to you.” Mom’s voice stands firm, and it helps ease the smallest fraction of tension from my shoulders.

“It’s a little too late for that,” I grumble.

“They’re nothing but rumors.”

“Except everyone is talking about my marriage, including freaking

Finance Today

.” I know I’ve officially hit rock bottom when the spreadsheet nerds are out to get me.

“They can say anything they want, but that doesn’t make any of it true.”

Oh, Mom. If only you knew.

“But—”

“No buts. These reporters will come up with any kind of story to sell some papers. It’s disgusting that they would come after your marriage like this, but I’m not surprised.”

Me neither when I come to think of it. The timing is almost too perfect, with Declan and me being unable to do anything about it from here.

With each article I read, my anger intensifies. I know exactly who released these stories into the world, hoping for this kind of reaction.

Seth Kane is lucky I’m thousands of miles away from him or else I would give him a piece of my mind.

Or fist.

I don’t think anyone could read comments like that about themselves and not feel some kind of emotion toward it. But despite my feelings, I know who I am and what I stand for. Nothing anyone says will change my mind, but it doesn’t mean their words still can’t affect me.

Unlike Declan, I didn’t grow up in this kind of world. I’m not accustomed to having my image plastered all over every celebrity gossip site, picking at everything that makes me who I am. It makes me want to hide away from everyone and everything, but it also makes me want to fight.

“I’m going to fix this.” I hold my chin up.

“How?”

I won’t allow logistics to kill my motivation. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, baby. You can’t change people’s narratives. They are going to think what they want based on the facts they’re presented with, and nothing you do will change that.”

Mom’s words cause a lightbulb to shine above my head—as if it was blessed by God himself.

What if I create a story so enticing, they can’t help but want to change their view? I

can

control how people perceive us. It might take a bit of work on my end, but it has to be better than the alternative. Because if stories like this continue to pile up, Brady Kane’s lawyer will most likely start questioning the authenticity of everything.

No. There is no way I will allow that to happen. I didn’t go through all the trouble of marrying Declan so his father could ruin everything anyway. Seth Kane might have won this round, but he has a whole other thing coming if he thinks I’ll let a few news headlines hold me back. While his sons have to remain diplomatic around him for the sake of investors and board members, I have no issues getting dirty.

He put a target on his back, and I can’t wait to pull the trigger.

DECLAN

Disconnecting for the remainder of my honeymoon was a mistake. I have never spent an hour without checking my phone, let alone days.

This is what happens when you take a vacation.

During my time off the grid, someone leaked a story to the gossip magazines saying my marriage was staged. I don’t doubt my father was behind this kind of campaign, although it will be difficult to prove it.

I have to give him credit. He was thorough, making sure to include a set of fake documents detailing shit Iris and I never even discussed in our contract. It portrays me as the exact monster the world expects of me. Headlines about a speculated inheritance.

Interviews from soon-to-be ex-employees claiming my relationship with Iris came out of nowhere, all because of a clause from my grandfather about giving birth to an heir. There are even sonogram photos of a child who sure as shit isn’t mine.

I wouldn’t bat an eye at the headlines, but the way they talk about Iris… Now that is simply unacceptable.

You never cared about their opinions in the past…

That was before I had someone worth protecting from the scum of the earth. Iris isn’t naive. She knows how the media portrays me

and what might have happened if she married me. But this… Even

I’m

horrified at some of the comments.

I tuck my phone in my pocket before I smash it into a million pieces. “Call my lawyer when we land.”

Iris looks up from her tablet. “What for?”

“I’m in the mood to make people miserable.”

“Can it still be considered a mood if it’s a constant state of being?”

I glare.

She holds her hands up in submission. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m about to slap half of Chicago with a libel lawsuit.”

Her lips form a small O as she nods her head. “Ahh. So I take it that you saw the articles?”

I blink. “You know about them?”

She moves her head up and down again as her eyes shift away from mine.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Her heavy sigh battles to be heard over the engines starting up.

“My mom called me while I was packing this morning and told me about them. I was hoping we would make it through the flight before you read them, but I see it was a lost cause.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the moment you saw them?”

And please

tell me you didn’t read the comments.

“Because I didn't find it worth ruining our last day together with something like this.”

“Who the fuck cares about that?”

She offers me a tight smile. “If you’re worried about what the lawyer might think, I already have a plan. I refuse to let your father beat us.”

Us. Not you.

The idea of us working as a team against my father pleases me, but not enough to erase the anger I feel about her putting my inheritance first. “Fuck the plan and fuck my father.

That’s not what’s important here.”

She bats her lashes. “My, my, Declan. Are you offended for me?”

“They called you a money-hungry whore.” My molars smash together.

“At least they chose a good photo of me for that one. The reporters over at the

Chicago Chronicle

weren’t as kind when it came to my secret pregnancy announcement.”

“

What

?” I can barely see past the black dots filling my vision as I pull out my phone again.

Iris places her hand over mine. “Don’t worry about it.”

I should be reassuring her. No one deserves to be talked about that way. While some comments are to be expected, like her only marrying me for a paycheck or my last name, the rest are despicable.

They pick apart her looks. Her intelligence. Her

heart

. Each one makes me want to find the internet trolls who said something negative about her and strangle them with their computer cords. If I thought I hated the media before, nothing compares to the burning desire to erase the first amendment from American history.

She gives my hand a squeeze, pulling me back from my murderous thoughts. “They’re only words.”

Inside, I’m seething. On the outside, I’m just as cold and calculated as the articles describe me to be. “I expected a different reaction from you.”

What did you really think she would do? Yell? Scream? Cry?

Anything would be better than the current alternative of her trying to reassure me. I don’t deserve it.

“I knew all of this would happen eventually.” She shrugs as if none of this bothers her, but it’s nothing but a lie. Her chin trembles and I find myself fisting my hands on my lap to prevent me from reaching out to comfort her.

comforting

her

? I wouldn’t even know where to start with something so ridiculous. “I’ll handle this.”

She raises a brow. “What are you going to do? Defend my honor?”

“At the very least.”

Her laugh eases some of the tension in my muscles. “Please don’t do something stupid because you’re angry.”

“I won’t.”

She lifts a brow. “Or anything that could be deemed a felony.”

“Is it still considered a crime if I don’t get caught?”

Her eyes brighten, chipping away at the icy block of my heart.

“Paying your way out of prison isn’t something to show off about.”

“What good is having all this money if I have to follow the law?”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Then don’t.”

Her nose scrunches. “Moving on. We need to be strategic about all of this. I’m sure your grandfather’s lawyer is starting to become suspicious about the legitimacy of everything.”

Whatever good mood she brought about a moment ago is wiped away by her comment. How can she think about the lawyer during a time like this? For fuck’s sake, there were people making death threats toward her.

“I don’t care about the lawyer.” At least not right

now

She looks at me like I grew a second head. “

Right

. Well, regardless of your current opinion on the matter, I have the perfect plan.”

Seeing as her last plan ended up with us being married, I can only imagine how this one will go.

I consider going over to my father’s house. The temptation to break his jaw rides me hard, but I hold back. Punching him would only make me feel better for a moment while destroying everything he loves will have a much more satisfying alternative.

Growing up being raised by someone like him meant developing the same traits because to survive someone like him, I needed to evolve. I learned through painful trial and error to hold my cards close to my chest because to love something meant to risk losing it.

I’ve loved and I’ve lost, and I despise both feelings equally.

A booming voice outside my office door, followed by Iris’s shrill laugh, has me moving to the door and turning the knob. I open it to find Iris and my father in the middle of a death stare contest.

He smirks at me. “Perfect timing. Tell your bitch to heel.”

I only manage a single step before Iris’s fist flies, slamming straight into my father’s jaw. Iris screams as her fist connects with his face. A chill runs down my spine, and I swallow back the acid crawling up my throat at Iris’s cry.

He tests his jaw, rubbing the spot she punched with his palm.

“You fucking—”

I see red as I lunge for my father, but my attention shifts when Iris lets out a whimper.

“Ow.” A single tear slips down Iris’s cheek as she checks out her fist.

I don’t think as I jump into action. She hisses at me when I try to assess her hand, all while she swipes the tears off her face with her non-injured hand. Something definitely doesn’t look right with her pinkie, and she winces as I lightly run my finger over it.

“That doesn’t feel too good—” Iris curses as she brushes her thumb across her knuckles.

“That’s what you get for thinking you could lay a hand on me.”

I swear this man has a death wish.

“Oh, I’d like to lay more than a hand on you, you evil fucker.”

Iris tries to step around me, but I block her path.

“I’ll handle this.” I give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Her brows pull together as she shuts her mouth.

“I was coming here to check in on Iris and see how she was holding up after those articles came out. I’m sure it can’t be easy being referred to as a mindless slut—”

Bone crunches beneath my fist as I slam it straight into my father’s nose. A deep sense of satisfaction fills me as his head rears back, rolling with the momentum of my punch. Blood gushes down his face and drips onto the carpet.

I grin at the mess.

He tries to staunch the bleeding, but nothing seems to work.

“Looks like you’re more like me than I thought.”

Something dark takes over me. “Get out!” I roar as I lunge at him. My fingers grip onto air as he stumbles backward, tripping over his shoes as he holds his head back.

The pressure in my chest doesn’t lessen as he disappears through the double doors. Hopefully he returns to whatever corner of hell he crawled out of before I have a chance to get my hands on him again.

Iris huffs. “Well, that didn’t go exactly as expected.”

I turn around, finding her hand clutched to her chest. Her twisted expression has my blood rushing to my ears.

“Please tell me that wasn’t the big plan you’ve been working on.”

She scoffs. “No. I got a bit derailed, but rest assured, my other idea is fool-proof.”

“I’ll be the judge of that given your current track record.”

She laughs before wincing at the hand pressed against her chest.

“Ouch.”

“Let me have a better look.” My pulse quickens as I assess her injury. I’m careful not to touch the skin near her knuckles, keeping mind of the swelling. It doesn’t look like an open fracture so at least that is good news. “You’re insane. There’s no other explanation for why you would punch someone in the face without knowing how.”

“I thought it would be like the movies.” She flinches as she checks out the damage.

“We need to get you to the hospital to have it checked out.” I choke on the words, unable to process the reason I decide to make that call. I fucking despise hospitals.

“No! I’m fine. See!” She wiggles her fingers and recoils.

I’m hit with the urge to go find my father but hold back.

“Why would you punch him?”

Her jaw locks together, and she looks down at her purple heels.

I lift her chin with my finger. “Tell me.”

She sighs, and it takes an exorbitant amount of effort not to shake the answers out of her.

“Promise not to do anything illegal if I tell you?”

“No.”

Her head drops. “You’re not going to be happy.”

“I’m never happy.” Except for rare occasions. All of which Iris is a part of.

She looks back up at me. Her eyes have a sheen to them that has nothing to do with her injured hand. “He offered me money to…”

“To what?” Every muscle in my body tenses.

“To prevent me from having a baby.

Ever

.” She looks away as if she can hide the way her face is a wreck of emotions.

I’m already halfway out the door, body hot to the touch and my head empty of any thoughts besides finding my father and pummeling him into the ground.

I should have known he would try to pull off a stunt like this.

Part of me had stupidly hoped he would have some sense of decency left, but it seems he doesn’t have a moral bone left in his body. I underestimated just how far he would go to retain his position as CEO. Because without it, he would have nothing to live for. His kids hate him and his wife is dead. Losing his executive position would be the last blow in his miserable life.

Iris grips onto my arm and tugs me back. “Wait!”

“I can’t talk to you right now.” I can’t talk to

anyone

, let alone her.

You’re the one who brought her into this mess. What did you expect?

Blood heats beneath my skin. I try to shake her off, but her hold only grows more desperate.

“I need you to take me to the hospital.”

I pause, seeing through the cloud of red haze blocking my decision-making. “What?”

Her misty eyes lock onto mine. “I’m in a lot of pain.”

Fuck

. I release a ragged breath and shut my eyes. “Harrison will take you.”

“Please don’t make me go alone.” Her plea is my undoing.

My plan to send my father into a coma slips away as I shut my eyes and nod my head. “Fine. Let’s get you to a doctor.”

DECLAN

Since Iris is unable to hold a phone herself, I’m tasked with typing everything she dictates. I knew Iris handled a lot, but I didn’t fully realize the depth of her job until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she isn’t happy. The number of emails she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane. Or maybe I’m just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different emails with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as we near the hospital. Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, altering my entire schedule for the day.

The work doesn’t stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out.

Iris stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

“Here.” I pass it to her.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. “Will you help me please? I can’t write like this.” Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

“Okay. Tell me your answers and I’ll write them down.”

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question, so I busy myself with my

phone.

“Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I’m too stressed to concentrate right now.” Her overcompensating smile irritates me.

“Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal.”

Don’t be a dick. Just do what she says.

“I don’t care.” The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question.

The paperwork doesn’t take us as long as I anticipated, so Iris and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly. The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

“If it’s any consolation, I hate hospitals too.”

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice. “You do?”

I nod. “Haven’t been to one since I was younger.”

“Why?”

My chest heaves as I consider the potential consequence of admitting my reason. I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner. “We spent a lot of time in hospitals while my mom was sick. I grew to resent everything about them, even long after she passed.”

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I’m grateful she understands me enough not to ask any follow-up questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal to the years I’ve spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

“I hate them too.” Her voice cracks.

“Why?”

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. “Let’s just say my mom ended up in the ER a couple times for being

clumsy

.”

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “And did you have issues with

being

clumsy

?” If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. “No.

.”

My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. “If you were, you can tell me.” While I can’t promise I won’t do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt.

A lot.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don’t shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

“It never got to that point. Nana made sure of it.”

“How?”

“She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad.

Used her savings from my grandpa’s life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life.” A tear slips down her face, and I can’t stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. “Did Nana’s plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?”

She forces out a laugh. “I think concrete shoes were more in style back then.”

I fake shudder. “Remind me to never make Nana angry.”

“Forget Nana. You’d have to deal with me.” She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.

“I’m absolutely terrified.”

“Mrs. Kane?” a nurse calls out.

Iris doesn’t move at the sound of her name.

“That’s you.” I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand. Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. “I’m here!”

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay. Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Iris is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

“I’d like my wife to be taken care of in a private suite,” I speak up.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze flicks across my body. “This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doc like everyone else.”

Iris hops on the bed without any complaint, and I’m tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Iris’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Iris answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn’t put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

“I’ll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter.

Money is no object.”

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Iris laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

“You find this funny?”

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all day. “Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn’t put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it.”

“It’s not my fault she isn’t accustomed to how things are done in the real world.”

“Wake up, dear. You’re living in the real world.” She waves around our

room

“It’s terrifying.”

“Come here. I’ll make it better.” Iris pats the bed.

Doubtful, but I’m a glutton for giving her what she wants lately.

Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers.

She tries to scoot away, but there isn’t enough space.

“Isn’t this cozy?” she quips.

She eyes the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

“What’s wrong?”

She leans closer to me and whispers, “Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?”

My lips lift at the corners. I don’t know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of scary movies without so much as flinching. “You’re afraid of needles?”

She sputters. “No. I’m not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can’t control.”

“That’s good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back.”

“No! Don’t tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

“She lied to me!” She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn’t reach out and catch her.

“Careful.” I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.

Her eyes flit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

“I’m joking.”

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. “Asshole! I believed you!”

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

“Did you just laugh?”

“No.”

“Yes.” Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped.”

Fuck this place and the people in here. “We’re leaving.”

“Not so fast. You can’t leave before I check you out.” The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.

Iris remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I’m the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn’t return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I’m inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. “It looks like you have a boxer’s fracture.”

Her face brightens. “That sounds badass.”

I glare at her. “Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn’t count today as a victory by any means.”

The doctor’s eyes lighten. “Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles.”

“Please don’t encourage her.”

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Iris a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I’m skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I’ll be damned if Iris sustains permanent injuries because of my father. My chest tightens at the idea.

“Great! Thanks, Doc!” She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her.

“I’d like a second opinion.” The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer’s fracture isn’t the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren’t right in my head where Iris is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor’s eyebrows arch. “For a small fracture?”

“Don’t mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing.” She shoots me a look as if I’m the crazy one out of the two of us.

“Okay…” the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate when she cries.

You wouldn’t mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every

fiber of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I’m the only one to blame.

Iris interrupts my thoughts. “I’ll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury.”

chapter 07