Bossy(64)

“We’ll see. First we need to get through this wedding without killing each other. Then I’ll think.”

Declan’s door is open when I get back to our area, so I walk in. “What’s up?”

He’s standing by the far wall, facing the windows. His hands are crossed behind his back as he looks out over the city. “You don’t have to worry about Michael anymore.”

“Wha—what do you mean?”

“He’s going to leave you alone. We had a... chat, I guess you could call it. There were words involved.” As he steps closer, he moves out of the glare and I can see he’s being dead serious.

The whole situation feels like a cheesy scene out of a mob movie. “I don’t have to worry about him anymore? Jesus, you didn’t kill him, did you?” My face is probably as white as a sheet. I don’t think he’d actually do anything that crazy, but maybe? I knew Michael’s excuse about having met someone sounded like bullshit. Now I know why.

Declan laughs and shakes his head. “Nah. Tempting, but he’s not worth it. He did get a pretty clear message, though. No more dates. No more calls. No more bothering you in any way. If he does, he’ll answer to me.”

The smile on his face is both insanely hot, and scary as hell.

Wait, if he knows about Michael...

What about the video? Either he knows about it and I’m already one step towards total humiliation, or he doesn’t, and Michael still has his trump card hanging over my head.

I try to choose my next words carefully. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, because I am, but there were things involved that were private.”

“I know, Claire.” His voice is deep and velvety smooth. He sounds like he’s trying to reassure me, but does he really know everything?

“You’ve... you’ve seen it?” I can’t even say the words.

Declan dials back the gangster vibe a few notches and shakes his head. “Relax, you look like you’re about to puke. This was supposed to be good news. No, I haven’t seen whatever it is he had on you, and if he values his life, he’s going to keep it to himself until he dies of old age.” He comes a step closer, mouth quirking up at the corner. “Not that I’m not curious.”

“No!” I blurt out, waving my hands between us in big sweeping x’s. “No, you don’t. And I don’t want you to.” My heart is pounding a mile a minute. “This is serious. Promise me. Even if it somehow ends up in your hands, you’re not going to watch it. Promise me.”

He looks into my eyes, a long, weighing gaze. The curiosity is obvious in his face, but he eventually nods. “Alright. I promise, and you know I don’t make promises lightly.” He comes another step closer, standing so near I have to crane my neck to look up at his face. “You’ve already made me break one, remember?”

Oh yeah, I remember.

One night only. I swallow hard. It’s hard to think when he’s so close. I step back reluctantly, nodding slowly. “Thank you.” I push my panic away. He’s fixed it, and he didn’t even kill anyone in the process. That I know of.

A weight is lifted from my shoulders. I’m free. A smile threatens to break out on my face, especially when I look up at Declan, who’s waiting for me with an expectant look on his face. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”

He shrugs, looking embarrassed. “The fucker deserved it. No sweat.”

Now I do smile. My badass knight in shining Armani. It’s tempting to keep teasing, but I let him off the hook. “You wanted to talk about Sunday? Mom has the whole schedule worked out. I saw it the other day. You probably know about as much as I do. It’s been her show for the most part.”

“Like everything else,” he mutters.

“Oh, come on. Give her a break. Her whole job is to organize stuff. It’s what she does. You can’t hate her for that.” I don’t know why I feel the need to help Declan feel better, but I lean in and whisper. “It would be like hating you for having a gigantic...” He smirks. “Ego.”

Declan laughs, and kisses the top of my head softly. It’s a completely unsexy gesture, but it knocks my emotions off balance faster than any other kiss we’ve shared. It’s sweet, and it makes me want more. He looks at me curiously, and I shake it off with a smile.

“If you’re going to hate my mother for anything, hate her for thinking she can make pecan pie. I’d say more, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” I walk out before he can make me tell him if I’m joking or not. Next Thanksgiving will be more fun if he isn’t quite sure.