Page 69 of Eternal

He rings the doorbell, thawing the ice that trapped me on the doorstep when I first arrived. I have no idea what I’m walking into, but for once, I’m thankful to have Declan at my side so I don’t have to do this alone.

Looking up at Declan, I’m met with a cool expression, and I can’t read his thoughts. His eyes work as he looks straight ahead, his thumb brushing the back of my hand.

He’s acting like an actual boyfriend, not a fake one, and it’s confusing as hell.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, not looking at me.

“Nothing.” I face forward again. “You’re just so presentable tonight. I don’t know what to make of it.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Declan skimming my simple outfit. I’m wearing a black halter top with black jeans. Usually, I’m more colorful than this, but nothing felt right as I dug through my closet, so I tried to choose the dressiest articles of clothing I own.

“I could say the same for you.” Declan squeezes my hand.

My cheeks warm as I bite back a smile. “Thank you.”

I gnaw the inside of my cheek, nervous at his attention.

Thankfully, the front door opens, cutting through the tension. Margarite stands in the doorway, smiling.

“Miss Tealene.”

“Hi, Margarite.” I wave with my free hand when Declan doesn’t let my other one go.

Margarite is the one bright spot when visiting my parents’ house. She gets more credit for raising me than my mother does. She was the one who was there when I had my first panic attack, and she sat with me through every adjusted dose and dark moment growing up. To this day, I don’t know if I’d still be here if it weren’t for her, so I’m thankful she stuck around, especially since raising me was an impossible task.

“Everyone is in the Blue Living Room.” She smiles, stepping aside so we can walk in.

No one should have so much money that they need to name their living rooms to differentiate them. But that’s my father—bleeding others dry so he can drown in more wealth than he’ll have years to spend it.

Declan releases my hand to rest his palm on my lower back as he guides me ahead. I’m sealed to his side, and it’s comforting how he plants a kiss on the top of my head, pausing a moment to breathe me in. I probably smell like paint from spending all day in the studio, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Relax.” He rubs my back, guiding me through the house.

His touch—his comfort—releases some of my nerves. But I’m used to fighting him at every turn, so naturally, I talk back.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Declan chuckles, ignoring my playful irritation as we enter the living room.

People usually ignore me when I attend these dinners. But the moment I walk into the room with Declan atmy side, all eyes are on us. And that includes those of Ian Pierce, who is standing in the center of the room speaking to my father.

Their expressions are tense as they watch us. Ian Pierce’s gaze lands on me with pure disgust before his stare drifts to Declan. If it was Declan’s goal to piss off both our families, he accomplished it.

“He looks furious.” I glance up at Declan, who is smirking.

“Good.”

Glancing around, I watch as people pretend not to stare. They return to their conversations and avoid making direct eye contact. But my spine tingles when I catch gazes with Jase.

Now I know why my parents wanted me here after what happened the other night at the fundraiser. This is one massive setup to get me in a room withmy future husband. Which also explains Declan appearing out of thin air to be here with me.

I should know better than to think he’d do anything for my sake. This is a power play driven by his own interests. That’s all he cares about.

Ian breaks away from my father, crossing the room toward his son. The group continues talking, but I don’t miss their eyes darting to him, keeping an eye on the situation.

“Declan,” Ian grits out his son’s name. “A word.”

Declan releases my hand, and I wait for him to disappear. But first, he lifts my chin, tipping my face up and planting a chaste kiss on my lips.