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He smirks, a lion amused by the mouse's bravado. "You've got quite a mouth on you. But it’s simple—I'm the one willing to cross lines that others won't. That makes me fit to lead."
"Crossing lines?" I snort. "Or erasing them entirely?"
"Semantics," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"So, it's chaos you're offering. Because without lines, Declan, there's no order, just anarchy. And last I checked, even criminals prefer predictability over pandemonium."
"Anarchy has its place," he counters, his eyes glinting with feral excitement.
"Sure, if you're a teenager rebelling against curfew, not a crime lord," I reply.
"Curfew?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "You really are out of your depth here."
"Am I?" I ask, my confidence growing as the time wanes. "Or maybe I just see through your tough-guy act to the scared boy underneath, desperate to prove himself."
Declan's laughter abruptly stops, his face hardening like granite. For a moment, tension crackles between us like live wires about to spark. Then, as quickly as it came, it dissipates as he changes tack.
"Enough about me," he says, pacing closer until I can smell the tobacco on his breath. "Let's talk about you, Doctor Moretti. Harvard educated, was it? My men could use someone with your... expertise."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," I quip, though my heart kicks against my ribs at his proximity. "I'm not currently seeking employment."
"Is that because you were busy playing nurse to Constantino?" he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes sharp.
"Playing nurse?" I laugh, though it sounds forced even to my own ears. "No, Declan, I never agreed to work for Constantino."
"Is that so?" he probes, pushing off the wall and stepping into my personal space.
"It isn't any of your concern," I snap, wishing I could put more distance between us.
"Everything's my concern when it comes to people I have an interest in." His grin is wolfish, and I'm the lamb cornered and alone. "And right now, Doctor, you're at the top of that list."
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I force myself to hold his gaze.
"Consider it, Evelyn," Declan murmurs, his voice a low rumble in the stale air of the cramped office. "You're smart enough to know that taking my offer might just be the only thing keeping you and the kid breathing."
My pulse hammers in my ears as I process his words. The threat is veiled but unmistakable. He's serious. "And whatexactly would you have us do?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
His laughter bounces off the walls, too loud in the quiet room. "You, my dear, will become my personal doctor." His eyes gleam with a mix of amusement and dark intent. "I expect you'd be just as devoted to me as you were to Constantino."
"Devoted?" I scoff, but my stomach knots at the thought of being tied to this man. "You've got some twisted ideas about loyalty and service, Declan."
Before I can react, he closes the distance between us in two strides. I recoil, pressing Evan closer to my side, wishing I could shield him from this brute of a man. Declan's hand finds my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "You're beautiful, you know that? Smart, competent. It's no wonder Constantino fell for you."
"Fell for me?" I force out a laugh, though it's laced with bitterness. "He did no such thing."
"Did he not?" Declan's voice is all smug confidence. "Well, we'll see soon enough when he arrives."
"Keep dreaming," I shoot back, swallowing down the fear that threatens to choke me.
But then his phone rings, slicing through the tension like a blade. Declan's eyes never leave mine as he answers. There's a moment when everything hangs in the balance, where I'm standing on the edge of an abyss, not sure whether I'm about to fall or fly. Then, he lowers the phone, a sly smile spreading across his face like spilled ink.
"He's here," Declan says, and my world tilts on its axis.
Chapter Forty
The engine of my car hums a low, monotonous lullaby, but my heart's drumming out a manic rhythm that's anything but calming. The thought of not showing up to this godforsaken rendezvous? Not even a blip on the radar of my mind. It’s as if my foot on the accelerator has its own will, pressing down harder with each thought of what Declan O'Leary has taken from me.
His voice from the call still haunts me, all smug satisfaction and twisted challenges. And here I am, driving right into the lion's den—or should I say, the snake pit—because he’s holding the only two things in this world that can make my cold heart beat: Evelyn and Evan.
