Babysitting a Billionaire #3 - Taking Control(27)

He had one more day to persuade her.

He headed out, slamming the front door behind him. The night was cold and he shivered as Steve fell into step behind him.

"Is she all right?" he asked, his voice expressionless. Declan had gotten the distinct impression that Jess's colleagues didn't approve of their relationship.

"Why the hell wouldn't she be all right?" he snarled. What did they think he was going to do to her? Break her heart? 

Steve shrugged. "She's been different since this job. We just don't want her hurt."

He stopped and swung around. "And you think I'll do that?" He fisted his hands at his side, resisting the urge to punch the other man.

Steve shrugged again, then obviously decided he'd said enough. "You want me to call for a car?"

"No." He didn't want to head home. He wanted a drink. He started walking, heading toward the center of town, and then into the first bar he found.

He ordered a scotch, drank it in one swallow, then ordered another and took it to a dark corner. Drank that. When he raised his glass, the barman came over, this time he filled the glass and left the bottle on the table.

She hadn't actually said she didn't love him.

Maybe he needed to give her some concrete evidence that he really did care, and this time he meant it to last. The scotch was a warm buzz in his brain now.

He pushed himself to his feet and headed over to where Steve waited and watched.

"I want to hit something," he said. Actually, he wanted to hit his father, but he reckoned he'd better postpone that confrontation until he was a little calmer and a little more sober. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Half an hour later, Declan sagged against the punching bag, resting his forehead against the soft leather. They were in a room beneath the Knight Securities building, next to the shooting range where he'd made love with Jess. He was trying not to think about that. He lifted his head. His bodyguard leaned against the wall, one eyebrow raised. "You done?"

"Not nearly done. Do you know of a tattoo place open at this time?"

 …

It was hardly daylight when Jess entered the Knight Security building the following morning. She'd checked his schedule and knew Jake was around and she wanted to do this before she changed her mind.

She hadn't slept after Declan had left.

She'd lain in bed, trying to avoid thinking about him, because it hurt. Instead, she'd thought about everything else. Her parents, who had been the most wonderful people and hadn't deserved to die. Her sister, who had very reluctantly taken her in and had been totally unprepared to deal with a damaged, hurting ten-year-old. The army, her job, her future …

And she realized something. Declan wasn't the only one who didn't know what he wanted. Except she knew what she didn't want and that was to spend the rest of her life trying to be something she wasn't. Like nice.

She'd thought the promotion was everything she wanted, but in fact it would be a combination of all the parts of the job she hated. Administration, paperwork, getting friendly with clients. It was the hands-on work she loved. Designing security systems, training the operatives, field work. She'd die of boredom stuck in an office all day.

All the same, she'd never found it easy to admit she was wrong. Even to herself.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and pushed it open. Jake was seated on the sofa, drinking coffee, working on his laptop.

"Can we talk?" she said.

He gestured to the seat opposite. "What is it?"

She settled herself, then jumped up, crossed to the coffee, poured one, and came back. After taking a sip, she exhaled. "I think you should give the job to Gary."

Jake put his cup down and studied her. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to be nice. I've tried it, and it really doesn't suit me."

His lips twitched. Then he shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay?" She frowned. "Hey, boss, this is the moment you're supposed to try and dissuade me. Tell me the firm needs me. That I'm better than Gary … "




 

 

"You are. But actually, I think you're making the right decision."

"You do."

"You could do the job, but you'd come to hate it in the end. And you're bright enough to realize that."

"Aw, thanks."

"So what will you do?"

"Hey, I worked out what I don't want. Could you give me a little time to sort out the hard stuff?"

He nodded. "You'll get there. Just remember what you are. It will help you decide."

"And what am I?"

He grinned. "A fucking badass."

 …

The bouncer was a man named Pete. The same man who had guarded his room after the shooting. Declan had known him most of his life. Pete did a double take as he opened the door and then nodded as Declan walked passed, his two bodyguards close behind him.

"Are they all here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Pete said. "They're in your old man's office. Just waiting for you to start the celebrations."

Declan walked through the club. It was only eight and still quiet. That wouldn't last for long. He didn't bother knocking on the office door, just pushed it open. Leaving his guards outside the door, he stepped inside.

His dad sat behind the big desk, feet resting on the polished wood, legs crossed at the ankles, arms behind his head. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Declan, but didn't make any comment.

There were four other people in the room, the whole family together. He didn't think he'd seen his father and mother in the same room for at least five years. They dealt much better together when there was an ocean between them. There was also his sister and brother, and Penny, his ex-fiancé, who was eying him up as though he'd metamorphosed into something dangerous.

They'd never been what you would consider a functioning family unit. But he loved them. Even his bastard of a father. Even if he didn't like him much right now-and that was a total understatement.

"Looking good, Bro," Logan drawled, a grin curling his lips.

Logan had been his role model for tonight. A few years older than Declan, he'd been born before the urge to be respectable had overtaken Rory and he'd never really embraced the whole legitimate thing. But Declan knew he was a good man, even if he looked a total hard case in black leather pants and a T-shirt, the short sleeves revealing the black ink of tattoos snaking down his arms. Declan's own arm tingled at the sight.

His sister, Tamara, was the opposite, looking every inch the successful corporate lawyer she was. She was two years younger and very ambitious. She been hassling him for more responsibility. He was about to make her very happy. 

He took off his dark glasses and shoved them in his pocket, wincing a little at the bright light. "Stand up," he said to his dad.

Rory frowned but slowly rose to his feet. Declan closed the distance between them. "Tell me," he said. "Did you really have a heart attack last year, or was it just part of the plot to get me over here and sort out my pitiful existence?"

He pursed his lips. "My heart's fine."

"Good." He drew back his fist and punched his father in the nose.

He heard the satisfying crunch of bone and Rory crashed to the floor.

Declan looked around the room, waiting for someone to step forward, but no one moved. Logan was still grinning, his sister looked uninterested, his mother was smiling.

"I have wanted to do that so many times," she murmured. Then she stepped toward him and patted his arm. "Do you two need to talk alone?"

Declan shook his head. "No. I can say what I have to say in front of you."

"Good." She drifted away and sat down in the middle of the black leather sofa that ran along one wall of the office. She tapped the seat beside her and Logan and Tamara sat on either side. Penny raised an eyebrow, then shook her head. "I'm guessing this is a family matter, so I'll leave you to it." Declan waited until she had closed the door behind her before he turned back.

His dad hadn't yet moved and for a moment Declan worried that he might have hit too hard. But he'd pulled the punch. Then Rory pushed himself up onto one elbow and wiped a hand across his nose, staring at the scarlet that stained his fingers. "You broke my nose."

"Yeah."

He dragged himself to his feet. "Are you going to tell me why?"

Declan reached into his pocket and pulled out the check he had taken from Jess's wall last night. He tossed it onto the desk beside where his father stood.

He picked it up, his brows drawing together as he studied the check. Then his expression cleared though his eyes narrowed. "She never cashed it?" He sounded almost pleased.

What the hell did that matter? "She came to you, and you gave her money to go away."

"She was bad for you."

"It wasn't your decision to make. You promised to let me know if she needed anything. I asked you if she'd been in touch. You lied."

"I made it my decision. You were only eighteen and about to throw your future away on a little tramp."

"She was never a tramp." Declan turned away, running a hand through his hair. He would never get his father to admit he was wrong. Arrogant prick. "You should have fucking told me."

Rory pursed his lips. "Maybe. But if you'd really wanted her back then, you would never have left."

Declan crossed to the cabinet where he knew his father kept the scotch and pulled out the bottle and a couple of glasses. He placed them on the desk.