Page 208 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

"OMG, OMG, OMG." She stands in front of the shelves of books in the biggest bookshop in the city, her palms clasped together. "This is… These are…"

"The spicy novels you couldn’t stop talking about?"

She opens and shuts her mouth, then runs her fingers through her hair. "How did you know—"

"Where to find them?"

"Umm, yes?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose?" I raise a shoulder.

She reaches out and runs her fingers across the spines of the books.

Her features soften; her lips part. Her entire body leans into the books.

It’s as if she’s making love to the bookcase.

A sharp sensation stabs my chest. My guts knot.

What the—? I can’t be jealous of the books, can I?

Her chest rises and falls. Her lips curve.

She pulls out one book, then another, and another.

The last begins to tip over from her hold.

I bend and catch it then, looking around, I grab a basket and deposit the book inside. I hold it. "Drop your books in here."

She glances down, slides her books into the basket, then looks up at me from under her eyelashes. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

"You’re being very polite."

I smirk. "Does that surprise you?"

"It does, considering how you’ve been blowing hot and cold with me since we reconnected."

Drop down to your knees, lock your hands behind your back. You will not move until I give you permission.

"Declan?" Her brow furrows. "Are you okay?"

"How many books can you get in the space of ten minutes I wonder?"

"Is that a challenge?" Her eyes gleam, then she stiffens. "I don’t have the money to buy these books."

"Consider it a gift."

She sets her jaw. "I don’t want to accept any favors from you."

"You’ll be doing me a favor by getting these books."

"How’s that?"

"It will help you understand my lifestyle."

She tilts her head. "Your lifestyle."

"Best if you read the books first." I reach past her, pull out "Fifty Shades of Grey," and drop it into the basket.

"Is that a good one?"

"It’s the mother of all your spicy books."

"O-k-a-y?"

"How about?" I pull out a few, read the blurbs on the back, then choose two more and drop them into the basket.

"You sure seem to know a lot about spicy books?"

"I know… enough."

"Have you read any of them?"

"Don’t need to." I roll my shoulders. Not when I’m living the scenarios depicted in many of them. Spicy authors know what they're talking about. Some of the books are prescribed reading for both Doms and subs in the Club. Not that I needed it. I went through my own journey to get here.

She folds her arms across her chest. "I am a bit confused as to why you’re doing this. Also, I really don’t want to accept another favor from you."

"Once your first song releases, you’ll be rich enough to pay me back for the books."

She tips up her chin. "Not only the books. I’ll pay you back for putting me up in your house."

"It’s not like there’d be anyone else occupying your room. But if it makes you feel better, sure—"

"It does."

"Now that’s settled…" I nod toward the bookshelf. "How many books do you think you can pick in ten minutes?"

An hour later we walk toward the front of the shop.

I’m carrying four—yes, four—baskets, two in each hand, all of them loaded with books.

I refused to let her carry any of the baskets.

She protested at first, then finally relented when I told her it would save me time as I’d include it as part of my daily workout routine.

She was disbelieving until I explained to her I have a daily workout routine to stay in shape for the screen.

Heaving the weight of these books would help me offset some of the time I’d have otherwise spent at the gym.

And I’m not lying. My biceps strain and my triceps protest. A burn tugs at my calves.

Who knew carrying books would provide such a work out?

Maybe I should replace my weights with spicy novels?

"Hey, hold on, we haven’t paid yet," she calls out.

I glance over my shoulder to find she’s stopped in front of the cashier’s counter.

She looks around. "Why is there no-one at the cash desk?" She frowns, then straightens. "For that matter, why are we the only ones in the store?"

I chuckle. She was so entranced by the books, it’s the first time she’s noticing we're the only ones in the store.

"It’s paid for," I explain.

"I didn’t see you pay for it."

"Believe me, it’s taken care of."

She purses her lips. "I’m confused. There’s no one here, but the store is open because nobody stopped us from coming in. Also—" She presses a finger to her cheek. "I thought you were famous?"

"I am."

"But no one stopped you for autographs, because there’s no one in here, because…" she draws down her brows. "What’s happening, Declan? What are you not telling me?"

"Can we have this conversation after we get home?"

She looks past me and her brow clears. "I see."

"What do you mean?"

"There’s no one in here because they’re all out there."

I turn around, and sure enough, there’s a crowd of photographers clustered around the entrance on the other side of the double doors that lead out of the bookshop.

"Bloody fuck." I reach for my phone when it rings. Rick’s name shows up on the screen. "There are—"

"—paps in the front. Come around to the back door. I’m waiting with the limo."

Motherfucker’s on the ball when it comes to issues of security. I made the right decision hiring him, unlike my dubious idea to bring her with me to LA. The jury’s still out on that one.

I pivot and walk back toward her. "Come on." I want to grab her hand, but I’m still holding the baskets with her books. So, I jerk my chin in the direction of the back door. "Rick’s waiting there." I march ahead of her, then glance over to find she hasn’t moved.

"The fuck, woman? Can’t you do what you’re told to do, for once?"

Her lips thin. "If I wanted to be ordered around by an asshole of a man, I could've stayed back and married another Mafia guy."

"And you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to come with me."

She blinks rapidly. "If I’d known you were going to give me whiplash at every turn, I might not have."

Flashes go off outside the glass doors at the entrance.

"We need to go before the paps decide they’ll risk breaking into private property. Or figure out we're headed to the back door."

She glances over her shoulder then back at me. "But don’t we have to pay for the boo—"

"Fuck the books. I own the bloody bookshop, so I don’t need to pay for anything in here. Are you satisfied?"

She gapes. "Y-y-y-y-you own the shop."

"The entire chain actually."

"H-h-h-h-how?"

"I’ll tell you in the car, okay? Let’s go now… Please?"

The p-word seems to do it, for she nods and strides forward.

I follow her through the shop to the exit at the back.

We walk out and head toward the idling limo.

Good man, Rick. He’s kept the engine running.

A flash goes off—of course, there's always that one photographer who breaks away from the pack and takes a risk.

She falters, but I head past her and toward the back door. "Get in."

To my relief, Solene obeys. Rick opens the door for her, and she slides in. I shove the first two baskets inside, then the next two. A couple of books fall out.

"Leave them," Solene cries.

I bend and pick up the books, and more flashes go off. I throw the books inside the car and straighten to find there are now five paps. All clicking away and, moving closer by the minute.

"Are you buying books for your new lady love, Declan?"

"Who is your new girlfriend, Declan?"

"Is it true she’s an up-and-coming singer?"

"Is she an old flame?"

“Is it true you have a piercing on your unmentionable?”

I scowl, then realize they’re probably throwing out all of their hypotheses in the hope of getting a rise out of me. It’s how they push us to react, so they can carry the outburst as a news item.

I turn my back on them, and one of them jeers, "You moving onto ugly waifs who look like they’ve never had a decent meal in their life?"

Anger sizzles through my veins, and tension builds in my muscles so fast, spots of black spark in my line of sight. He’s trying to get me to make a move; he’s taunting me to take a bait.

I begin to slide in, when the same guy laughs. "Lost your balls?"

My vision tunnels. He's so close now, I think I can feel his breath on my neck.

"You’re an action star on screen, but in real life, you’re unable to come to the defense of your lady love, eh, you—"

I turn around and smash my fist into his nose. Blood blooms from his face. Flashbulbs go off. I grab his collar, pull back my arm again, but Solene yells, "Stop, Declan!" She throws herself across the seat and grabs at my shirt. "Please, let’s go."

More flashbulbs go off.

I release my hold on the man, who stumbles back, then slide inside the car.

Before I’ve shut the door, Rick accelerates and drives away. No one breathes a word. I lean back against the back of the seat, when she leans toward me. "You have a piercing?"