Page 45 of A Convenient Secret (Merged #3)

“Okay, Zach, we will drop you here for your lesson, and Auntie will come to pick you up later.” Declan steps out and leaves with his son.

Zoya continues chatting away while I try to follow, but my mind wanders in several directions. I want to be alone with Declan, finally, and not even talk—just let him hold me. I hope he will want to.

Declan comes back, sliding beside me.

“Why awe you sad, Lily?”

Oh God, I guess I’m wearing my feelings on my sleeve. “I’m a bit sad, but I’ll get better. In fact, I’m already happier knowing you had a great time at the camp.”

Declan’s hand touches mine on the seat between us, hidden from Zoya’s view.

I look at him, and he hooks his pinkie with mine. I give him a tentative smile, and he gives me a slight nod.

It’s like in the sea of misinformation, secrets, and lies, with two tiny gestures we reached a truce, and hope blooms inside me.

We drive in silence. On one side, Zoya is dozing off, tired from all the activities, and on the other side, Declan holds my hand. And for a moment, I imagine that this is our life. That there are no threats and no past. Just us, here and now.

The minute the car stops, Zoya jolts up. “We awe hewe.” She rushes from the car, running across the driveway to the entrance.

Saar opens the door. “Zoya!” She opens her arms.

We stay for a moment of idle chatter in the kitchen while Corm carries Zoya around on his shoulders, and she giggles.

“Okay, let’s go,” Declan says, while Corm gallops out to the patio.

“So, you two got married?” Saar asks, before I have a chance to catch up with Declan.

“Not like you and Corm.” I shake my head, tired of the layers and layers of explanations my life needs.

“My marriage started unconventionally too.” She puts her arm around my shoulder as we walk outside.

“Declan is set in his ways; this is a lot for him to digest.” I watch as he opens the car door but doesn’t get in, waiting for me. Always the gentleman.

“He will adjust.”

“Let’s hope.” It’s like after all this time with him, I feel dreadfully lonely again.

She smiles and wraps me in a hug. “I’m sorry about everything today.”

I lean into her embrace, because I can use all the friendship energy available. “Thank you.”

The car turns into the ramp for the underground garage, and two men jump in front of it, jolting us to a stop. Several others swarm around us, cameras clicking.

“Jesus.” Declan pushes the button. “Drive over them.”

Our car proceeds slowly, but after a certain point they would be trespassing, so we enter the garage.

“I’m sorry,” I say as he helps me to get out.

“Stop that, Lily. You have nothing to be sorry about. I just wish I was better prepared for all this shit.”

His rage came from that place deeply encoded in him, the place that craves control. That needs it to survive. This caught him off-guard. At least he’s not mad at me. I hope.

We enter the penthouse in silence, and Declan goes to the alcohol cabinet immediately. Not sure what to do, I remain at the base of the stairs.

With one glass of whiskey in his hand, he walks to the wall of windows and stares out for a moment.

I take a few steps toward him, my heart galloping, my stomach constricted. He turns and locks me in his gaze. It’s familiar, and strangely alien.

He walks toward me, slowly, like he isn’t sure if he wants to get closer. Like he’s deliberating how wide the gap between us should remain.

But at least he doesn’t stop until he gets to me. After taking a sip of his drink, he hands it to me.

A hesitant wave of relief floods me as I take the whiskey and let the liquid swirl around my tongue. It’s sweet and spicy, and the taste will forever remind me of us.

He takes the glass from me and puts it on the coffee table. “Let’s start with this.”

Pulling me into his arms, he lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is languid, painfully gentle, but also insistent. It’s healing and reverent, and I welcome it with equal relish.

My head spins with the pure emotional charge, so poignant, so unexpected, so right. Declan sighs and holds me tighter, before he leads me to the sofa and picks up the whiskey again.

We sit beside each other and take a small sip each.

“Why did he say he is your fiancé?”

“My grandmother isn’t a good woman. My grandpa lost his first wife when my father was born. He married again and had a daughter. Daddy’s stepsister always believed she deserves more, and Granny was equally thirsty for the Spinelli fortune.

“When my grandfather passed, Granny announced my engagement to my stepcousin, Timothy. My dad took her side.”

Declan swears, clenching his fist.

“Or rather he begged me to do it, because it would cease the internal fighting and ensure that I could protect the family legacy. So I agreed. He was a broken man after he lost my brother. And a part of me thought this was something my brother would have never been able to do. To marry our cousin.”

I take another sip and give Declan the glass, chancing a glance at him. He fell for Lily Thorne, not Liliana Spinelli, the heir to a rotten dynasty. Is he going to see me as one of them?

“Why is his name Spinelli?”

“He was born out of wedlock, and we never knew who his father was. In my circle, it gave him a bastard label. I guess it might have contributed to his personality.”

He takes my hand and brushes it with his lips. “Go on.”

“Timothy has always been a bully. A useless, lazy asshole, who spent a fortune but never contributed. His abuse was mostly verbal, and I was used to it. It didn’t impact me, so I believed I could handle him.

“It was when he hit me the first time that I realized it would only escalate from there. I was going to break the engagement, so he locked me in the room and set it on fire.”

Declan’s leg bounces, his fists now in a white-knuckle grip. I place my hand on the vibrating leg, and he stops tapping it .

“I got out, but I knew he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted: the entire inheritance and me out of the way. I went to my dad, and he said I should endure it while he tries to collect evidence about Tim’s wrongdoing.”

Declan’s leg starts bouncing again.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. So I decided to disappear. I was hoping Tim would fuck up enough to end up in jail or something. Or my father would find enough evidence to act on it. I believed that good would prevail. At least, for now, the company is still led by my father.”

Declan takes a generous sip and goes to refill the glass. I’m not sure if it’s because he needs another drink or to walk off the pent-up energy.

He comes back, carrying the bottle. He pours us another glass and hands it to me.

“So, now you know what kind of crazy I come from.” I try to sound jovial, but it comes out flat.

I yelp as Declan scoops me up and sets me in his lap. “I’m sorry for everything they did to you, Lily.”

“My grandfather was a great man. Spinelli Food was a work of love for him. The brand represented family, people coming together over a meal. I love that about the company, but for the longest time now, it’s been mostly just marketing spiel.

The Spinellis as a family play their part as upstanding citizens and pillars of the community while stabbing each other in the back.

Only Dad makes sure the Spinelli brand is protected. ”

“Your father should have protected you. Not the fucking brand.” Declan takes a sip.

“I know you can’t possibly understand this, but one of the reasons I didn’t tell you is because I wanted to protect the brand.

I knew you would force a confrontation with Tim.

He and his mother would use any excuse to further propel the inside wars within the company.

It would only blow up Dad’s careful balancing act of keeping the company in the right hands. ”

He contemplates my words for a moment. “I think I understand. I disagree, but I understand.” He sighs. “What’s going to happen now?”

“We can hope Tim will pack up and go home—which is wishful thinking. I’m pretty sure he’ll stay to feed the media frenzy.”

“I’ll hire security.”

“I never wanted to bring this to your door.”

“You apologize one more time and I will have you over my knee.”

Jesus. There is something wrong with me, because despite the dreadful day and the gloomy conversation, his words arouse me. “Yes, sir.”

Holding me tight, he leans forward and puts the whiskey down. He barely reclines back before he seizes my lips again.

We kiss, this time with more urgency, before he cuts the kiss short.

“Besides media, what else can we expect?” His need to plan and control wins over the passion.

“I will have to call my father and explain my lengthy absence.”

“Maybe we can take the twins to visit London, and you can talk to him in person.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Can you be any more perfect?”

“That’s my line, Seagull.”

“It’s a good line.”

We stare at each other, the tension melting slightly, the need for more closeness growing. I know the next few days, perhaps weeks, will bring a lot of pressure, that Declan doesn’t quite understand what it means to step into my world, but for now, I take the closeness.

Because if he stands by my side, we can conquer the world.

I hope.

“I thought I’d be telling the kids about us and announcing our relationship to everyone. Now that option has been taken away from us.”

“I’m sor—” I cover my mouth, remembering his warning. No more apologies .

He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I bought you a ring.”

It’s like we circled back to the conversation from earlier in the car, which feels like a lifetime ago.

“I thought you bought it for Corm,” I tease, still hurt about the way I found out about his plans. Plans that he abandoned too quickly.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the velvet box. “I got it back.” He flicks it open.

A beautiful, gentle solitaire sits on an intricate band. I love it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know we’ve done things backwards, so before we sort that out, I want to give it to you as a commitment ring.” He takes it out and pauses just before sliding it on. “I hope you’ll accept it.”

I nod, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I didn’t think I would ever allow anyone close again. Give them the power to break me. But you, my little Seagull… I stood no chance the minute you crashed into my life. I love you, Lily.” He slides the ring on my finger.

I sniffle. “I love you, too.”

He cups my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. This third one is scorching, desperate, all-consuming. It’s like all his kisses, fresh with need, and wild with want.

The frustration of the day takes over, and the kiss turns into a frenzy of roaming hands, possessive touches, and a hunger for release.

Bunching the tight skirt up to my hips, I straddle him, his erection pressing between us. I fiddle with his belt while he undoes my zipper and yanks the top of the dress down, attacking my nipples.

I arch my back, moaning, forgetting what I was doing. He groans and pulls my bra cups down, not bothering to unclasp it.

“I need to be inside you,” he murmurs against my skin.

Dazed, I hear his words but don’t quite capture the meaning, my mind and all my senses focused on his tongue on my skin, his warm hands supporting my back, the taste of whiskey and the smell of him. The feel of his hard cock between us.

Oh yes, that. I return to my task and finally free him, wrapping my small hand around him. Declan lets out a savage sound.

“Now, Lily, your pussy around my cock. Now.”

His loss of control is like an aphrodisiac. I don’t even care if I’m ready for him. I’m probably soaking his pants anyway. I lift my hips, and he guides himself to my entrance.

I sink in slowly, languidly, taking every inch of him, relishing the feel of him. “Take me, Declan. I need to scream your name. I need to forget everything. Make me get lost in you.”

He groans, grips my hips, and starts bouncing me up and down. “Your pussy takes me so well, little Seagull.”

“Harder,” I pant. It’s like the deeper he gets, the more of him I need.

Declan flips us around. “Hands on the backrest.”

I grip the sofa as he lifts my hips and enters me from behind, and I almost fly over the backrest.

“I said hold on.” He thrusts. “I’m going to punish you for not telling me sooner. For not trusting me.”

I’m so close, I can barely hear him.

He grabs my hair, pulling me closer. “Why, Lily, why couldn’t you explain sooner?”

As if we didn’t just talk about it, his need to gain control over the situation, which is already out of our hands, feeds all his insecurities.

“I didn’t need a savior,” I yell out in frustration.

“You’re mine, Lily, mine.” His delicious assault picks up, his grip on my hair almost painful, making the entire experience deeper. “Do you understand?” he roars.

“Yes, yes, I’m yours.”

We chase our release, unaware of the heartbreak to come.