Page 43 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Even if I’m not one of the people damned by circumstance who run in Brave Steps, it’s taking everything inside me to put one foot in front of the other after that photo came up on my newsfeed.

On several newsfeeds. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and feed off the pain, but I know what I’d share with the others—reclaim your sense of self.

Still, I can’t help but recall the words he left me with this morning as he was trying to sneak out of my bed—nothing but sweet little lies. At least I know them for what they are now. Anguish fuels my muscles as each footfall lands.

He told me it was a business meeting. He said it right there in my bedroom. Lied right to my face. “Kalie, I have a meeting—”

“Just. Go.”

I watched him walk out the door. Despite everything, a small part of me let myself believe him.

That was a mistake that will never happen again.

I was halfway through reviewing a file I needed for the office when my phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Jon—a news link to Sexy & Social with no explanation. It isn’t like him to drop a link without calling first.

Then, I get his text.

Jon:

Kalie, I just didn’t want you seeing this and thinking the wrong thing.

I’m certain you guys discussed his cover.

My stomach churned before I even clicked. The link opened to a trending post. An article. A flood of photos.

It’s Declan in all his glory. Apparently, his little speech to me this morning had nothing to do with keeping away in order to keep me safe but being free to sit back and absorb the perks of being part of the mob.

After all, what did I have in comparison to the VIP section of a high-end gentleman’s club?

Hand trembling, I zoom in on the grin the paparazzi captured like he hadn’t spent last night deep inside of me, moaning my name over and over.

Tears well up in my eyes as I swipe through the photos. There’s a knockout woman trailing her fingers across his broad shoulders. In another, her face is buried against his shoulder from behind. I keep going, swiping through the slideshow of my heartbreak.

She straddled his lap, lips pressed to his ear.

His arm is slung casually around her waist.

Fingers splayed around her hip—the same fingers that traced their way over every inch of my bare skin. Like they had every right to touch her.

Next, his hand grips her hip.

But it’s the final photo that crushes me. Declan’s head rests back against the Chesterfield. Her hand rests against the side of his jaw. He isn’t pushing her away. No, instead, he’s smiling up at her.

Eyes at half-mast, lips pursed. It’s sexy as fuck, that smile.

I should know. It’s the way he smiled at me last night every time he wanted inside my body.

Still gripping the phone, it’s the fastest race of my life as I dash toward the bathroom. I barely make it in time to vomit everything in my stomach. Over and over my stomach heaves and I try to breathe through tears, snot, and bile. Once I finish, I collapse in the small space.

I need to finish this. Hands trembling, I scroll down until I see the headline.

Declan Conian Caught Blowing Off Steam After High-Stakes Business Meeting!

A gurgle of a sound is ripped from me. “Some meeting.” I text Jon back.

Kalie:

You’re sure this was today?

Jon:

You didn’t know?

I can’t disillusion him. My heart pounds as hard as the tears that fall out of my eyes. Over and over, I hit refresh somehow hoping the images will disappear. That Sexy & Social will print a retraction. They’ll admit it was a mistake. A misunderstanding.

Something.

Instead, I’m unable to string together a coherent thought other than the knowledge of one thing.

I need to get out of here.

I text Jon,

Kalie:

Who’s my watchdog tonight?

Jon:

Why?

Kalie:

I’m going for a run. If they can’t keep up, that’s not my problem.

Little dots flash then…

Jon:

I’ll let them know.

I run straight to the closet and head for the only place I can feel peace.

It’s on the run I come up with the plan of what to do next.

By the time I get home, Declan is blowing up my phone like a malfunctioning gun.

Declan:

Hey, firebrand.

Sorry for running out this morning.

Meeting’s done.

Want me to come over?

Kalie? You okay?

Out running?

Text me. Your phone is showing you’re home.

Each ping assaults my phone one after another, each one hammering into me, making my anger surge as the betrayal from earlier screams through my veins. It takes everything in me to not reply but to plan.

As I shower, every heartbeat pounds like a war drum as I prepare for the true battle to occur—the one between me and Declan. I close my eyes to rinse my hair and the images pop into my mind. Her hands on his body, his hands on hers. The way he leaned back and his smile.

That fucking smile.

That smile that isn’t just mine anymore.

It belongs to the world thanks to Sexy & Social’s significant following.

Shaking the spray out of my face, I mutter, “At least the world doesn’t know he played you, Kalie.”

No, all I had to deal with is the brutality of his deception.

Bitter and enraged, I mutter aloud in the steamy room. “What does this show you that you are to him, Kalie?” I swallow a mouthful of water and spit it out just before the truth falls from my lips. “A ruse. A blind. Of course he took advantage of what was being offered.”

Before I could drown in despair, I turn off the taps. Towel drying my hair, I slide into my worn Harvard Law T-shirt and sleep pants before I strip the bed. It might be midday, but I can’t bear to be in the same space his scent lives in.

I can’t let him be that close to me.

Not ever again.

Clenching my jaw, I make my way to my laundry room and drop in my contaminated sheets. After punching every button enough to strip the color off them when combined with the amount of bleach I pour in, I spin around to the linen closet and remake my bed.

Once that’s done, I pull out all the cleaning supplies and scrub down every inch of my home. Anything and everything Declan could have touched, I scrub it within an inch of its life. From the top of the end table to the bottom of the stairwell, there isn’t a surface left untouched.

I’m not just cleaning, I’m scrubbing his presence from my home.

Next, I do something I haven’t felt the need to do since our new alarm system was installed after our home was invaded. I drop the bar into the sliding glass door.

Short of breaking a window or a door—which will have both the police and Hudson agents inside my home in under ten minutes—there’s no way Declan’s getting in if he comes over.

Hours later, I’m taking small sips of water. I’m exhausted, but I’m finally ready to confront him. I sit down on the bench in our hallway with nothing but the painted wall as my background. My hair is swept away from my face. He doesn’t get to come back into my home. Not in any way.

Not again.

Kalie:

Fine. FaceTime if you’re available.

Declan:

Whenever you’re ready.

I press the video icon. It bleep-bleeps once. Twice. Then his gorgeous smiling face greets mine. That smile fades when concern takes over. “Firebrand—” he starts, but before he can finish, I jump in.

My voice is dead when I ask, “How was your meeting?”

“Good. We got a lot accomplished.”

“So I saw.”

His brow furrows. I’d prepared my text to him before I started this call. I send him the link to Sexy & Social. His face pales.

“You bastard,” I say in the same monotone. I refuse to give this man a single moment of my heartache when he’s already stolen a piece of my heart.

Declan exhales raggedly, words failing him until, with a hollow tremor, he finally manages, “It isn’t what it looks like.”

My chest tightens. I crave confrontation—a fight, a justification, even a sham denial.

“All I get is a pathetic excuse? Wow. I guess you skipped the thinking on your feet class at law school too.” His own words being flung back at him cause him to recoil.

“I’m surprised you haven’t been killed yet with your inability to think on your feet better than that. ”

His mouth opens and closes, but I shift into lawyer mode. I get my raging emotions under control so I eviscerate him for the right reasons. “You claimed this morning you wanted to wait on us until this was done. Fact.”

“Firebrand—”

I keep going. “You claimed you had a business meeting. Fact.”

Despite my initial reticence about Declan, I’d never thought him anything but honorable. Wasn’t I the stupid one. I tick off another box. “The ‘meeting’ occurred at a strip club. Fact.”

“Kalie. You know my cover—”

I cut him off. “You were caught by the paparazzi. Fact.” Before he can even attempt to wedge in some half-assed response, I continue, “You know, if just her hands were on you, I might believe this bullshit you’re trying to shovel in my direction.

But the fact your hands were on her? The fact—” I swallow hard so I can maintain the same icy courtroom armor I’ve worn for our entire call.

“You gave her the same damn look you gave me last night? That’s what we call slam dunk evidence. ”

“Slam dunk evidence of what?” His voice is raw and that ignites my fury.

“Of the fact last night meant nothing to you. Which is fine. That’s on me to deal with.”

His eyes widen, panic etching every line on his face. “No. Kalie. The pictures aren’t—”

“Don’t!” I choke out, each word laced with seething pain. “Don’t you dare tell me it wasn’t what I saw.” Clenching my eyes shut to gather the fragments of my fading composure, I demand, “You have one chance. Why?”

He remains mute—exactly as I had feared. He stays still until I finally scream, “Say something!”

His eyes brim with sorrow and regret, nearly crushing me with their weight, but his next words drive the knife of betrayal deeper still. “I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”

All my heartbreak and anguish come out when I ask, “Why not let me go before demolishing me entirely by sleeping with me?”

A sound of mortal anguish escapes his lips. “What the hell does he have the right to be broken about?”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until he’s moaning my name, “Kalie. Firebrand. Please…”

My head whips sideways, as if I’ve taken a full slap to the face. Swallowing past the lump in my throat to respond, I open and close my lips, but nothing comes out. Not a sound.

I can tell my pain is washing over him despite the distance between us.

Finally, a bitter laughter erupts from me, filling the air between us.

“In my family, we believe nothing is worth more than a sacrifice for love. I just wish I wasn’t the only one in love and wasn’t anything more than the collateral damage you used on your path for revenge. ”

“No, Kalie. I lo—”

I cut him off. I don’t want to hear the words I should have heard at any time but never because of Declan’s desperation. “Life’s about the damned choices we make, Declan. You picked the one that suits you. I hope you’re fine living with that regret.”

With that, I press End.

Emotionally drained, I mentally make a list of everything I need to do before I leave. Then, only then, will I allow myself to address Declan’s betrayal. Then, when I feel safe enough, I’ll crumble in the embrace of those who truly love me.