"Well great, go find another distraction then," I say, my voice cold despite the fire racing through my veins.
"Already did," he responds, holding my gaze.
I stare at him, confused by his words, by the intensity in his eyes.
Then he turns toward the door, his hand on the knob.
"You're rehired. Answer your phone next time," he says, not looking back at me.
And then he's gone. I stand still for several seconds, listening to his footsteps fade.
Then I sink to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, and cry.
Not because I lost. I just thought I knew how to get what I wanted if I tried to play the game.
But not him. He didn't take the bait. And somehow, that broke me more than if he had.
Because for once, someone looked past the act. And walked away anyway.
I lick my lips, and I can still taste him on me.
And I don't know if I hate him more for kissing me or for not staying.
15
DECLAN
Idrive too fast on the way to the family estate, pushing my Ferrari hard around corners, the engine's growl matching my mood. I can still taste her, smell her, feel the way she trembled against me.
Fuck.
I shouldn't have walked away. But I couldn't stay either. Not without taking everything she offered, even if she offered it for all the wrong reasons. And when I was in that moment, I didn't want it like that. Which I'll admit surprised me a little, but some things to do with her have been confusing me lately.
The gates to the Killaney estate open automatically as I approach, the guard waving me in. The sprawling property sits like a fortress on the outskirts of Boston, where old and new money mingle. I park beside Keira's Bentley and nod to her driver.
I also notice Callum's Aston Martin is already here.
Father summoning the whole family mid-day like this means it can't be good.
My phone buzzes and I take it out, hoping.
Shit, just Shane confirming our shipment from Jersey is on schedule. I put my phone back in my pocket and head inside, the heavy oak door swinging open silently beneath my hand.
The sound of voices drifts from the study. Keira's light laugh, Callum's deeper tones. I walk in and find them both seated in the plush leather chairs that face Dad's massive oak desk.
"What's the crisis?" I ask, leaning against one of the empty chairs instead of sitting in it. "We finally letting me run the family bars?"
Keira sits on the edge of her seat, already rolling her eyes. "Maybe he's calling an intervention for your underground fights."
"My fights or your shopping sprees," I shoot back, winking at her.
Callum doesn't smile. He looks too serious, even for him. Suppose a lot's been pushed on his plate.
I decide to sit and look around. "Where's Dad?" I ask.
The door behind me opens, and I turn, expecting to see our father stride in with that purposeful walk that's made grown men piss themselves. Instead, the sound of wheels on hardwood fills the silence.
A nurse I've never seen before pushes our father into the room.
