Page 235 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

"Let me go!" She wriggles.

I tighten my hold on her.

"What’s wrong with you, Declan? What are you doing?"

"Trying to have a conversation without the entire world and their mother looking on."

"You’re crazy." She struggles anew. "And was that a paparazzi’s camera that took that picture?"

“Not even Sinclair Sterling’s top-notch security can stop a paparazzo from getting through to get a piece of the both of us.

” Not that I’m surprised. Every time Solene and I get together, it results in a feeding frenzy from the news people.

They’ve hung around outside my home in LA, followed me into shoots in the Australian bushland, trailed Solene’s concert tour bus between states in the US.

You’d think having Hunter Whittington, the Prime Minister of this country, in attendance at the wedding would result in the protective detail being upped so much it would prevent the paps?

But apparently, not. Seems they’ll risk being arrested just to get an exclusive pic of Solene and me.

As if reading my thoughts, Solene groans aloud, "Jesus, Declan, and you carried me out in front of them? We’ll be all over the internet in a few seconds."

"We’ll be all over the internet, one way or the other, anyway. If not now, then when you’re spotted running back to LA, or when I’m photographed taking the next flight out to my shoot. In a way, that pap did us a favor. This way when it comes out that we—” I firm my lips.

She freezes; her body seems to turn to stone.

I take advantage of her temporary stillness and shoulder my way through the back door of Sinclair Sterling’s townhouse, then up a flight of steps, and down a corridor. I shoulder open the door to the bathroom and that seems to rouse her out of her reverie.

“When we what—?” She asks in a low voice. “What were you trying to say?”

Fucking fuck, can’t do one thing properly can you ass-wipe? I lower her to her feet. When she pulls away from me, I almost reach for her, then stop myself at the last moment. See this through. You must see this through.

“What was it you were trying to tell me, Declan?”

“That I saw the pap in the bushes and decided to give him a show.”

She scowls. "You carried me out of there knowing the pap was right behind us?"

I shove my hand into the pocket of my pants, “You’re aware how much in demand a joint picture of the both of us is. It’ll drive speculation about the status of our relationship.”

"Relationship?” She scoffs. “We haven’t been in one for the last month."

I widen my stance. "And whose fault is that?"

"You’re the one who was so busy with the PR for your upcoming release that you had no time to call me," she spits out.

"You’re the one who embarked on a tour of fifty cities in five months.” I force out words through a throat lined with razor blades, “And then you wonder why you’re so tired you’re unable to answer your phone whenever I call you?"

"I was focused on my career," she snaps.

"So was I."

We stare at each other, and the air in the bathroom thickens. Unsaid words, emotions, feelings press down on my chest, and my stomach churns.

Bloody fuck, it is partly my fault that this relationship has deteriorated to where it is.

Open your mouth and apologize, you asshole.

Tell her it’s all your fault. Tell her you’ll do everything possible to make it up to her.

Tell her she’s more important to you than your career. Tell her… you care for her. Tell. Her.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

I can't do it. She’s going to loathe me soon enough.

She’s going to tell me to fuck off and out of her life when I tell her who that woman is.

Not long until she’ll want nothing to do with me, but until then…

Until then, I have these last few minutes with her, and I’m going to make the most of them.

I walk over to her, until the tips of my shoes brush hers. "I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more."

Her shoulders hunch, and some of the fight seems to leach out of her. "I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to keep in touch."

"It’s no joke, trying to live up to the reputation that a first hit song confers on you," I murmur.

"It’s no joke, trying to follow up a hit movie with another.

I know how much you need it to consolidate your reputation at the box office.

" She searches my eyes. "But I’m not sure I can look past your refusal to tell me what that woman means to you.

" She looks between my eyes. "Who is she, Declan? Tell me."

Tell her. Do it. Now. The band around my chest tightens, sweat pools under my arm pits. I glance to the side, then back at her, "You sure you want to know? Because once I tell you, there’s no going back."

She pales. "Declan, please. Please tell me what’s happening, because my mind is building all sorts of scenarios right now."

I hold her gaze for another second and memorize the openness of her expression, the beseeching look in her eyes, the thickness of her eyelashes, the little upturned nose, the obstinate jut of her chin, the way her lips part slightly, as she searches my face.

"Declan?" she whispers.

I squeeze my eyes shut and when I open them, she must see the resolution in them, for she tightens her fingers into fists. She begins to shake her head, and I know she senses what’s coming even before I say a word.

I reach out and wrap my fingers around her wrists, before bringing her fingers to my mouth. For the last time, if this goes according to plan. I kiss her fingertips, then look into her eyes. "She’s my fiancée."

She stares at me for a second, another, then chuckles. “Nice one. You said the same thing when you pretended to be engaged to Olivia. You don’t think I'm falling for that one again, do you?”

Ah, you know me well, my little Rabbit. Apparently, I need to up my acting skills in order to convince you of my intent... Which is to make you hate me enough that you'll walk away from me. Which is to convince you to move on so… When you find someone who's right for you, you won’t hesitate.

The thought of someone else holding her, touching her, kissing her—anger squeezes my guts. Shock compresses my chest, and it feels like I’ve been hit by a ten-ton truck. Don’t do it. Don’t.

I have to. I must. The break must be clean and final, so that she moves on with no compunctions. A sharp ache lodges in my chest. I ignore it and draw myself up to my full height. "You didn’t think our relationship was for real, did you?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Stop. You’re not fooling me.”

“It’s the truth.”

She opens and shuts her mouth. “You’re joking.” She scans my features, and the seriousness of my intent seems to get through to her.

She swallows, then whispers, “You’re not joking.”

I slowly shake my head.

She pulls her hands from mine, and I can’t stop myself from leaning forward. I breathe in her scent, taking it all way into my lungs, trying to hold it there so it’s a part of my essence.

She backs away as a calculating look comes into her eyes. “If she’s your fiancée, why didn’t you bring her here?”

“She’s busy. She has a wedding to organize.” Then I say the words I know are going to seal the fate of our relationship. “Our wedding.”

The color fades from her cheeks. “Y-y-y-your wedding?” She looks like someone just broke her heart—that would be me.

I hurt her. Yes, I’m a bastard, but I’m doing it for her.

I’m not good enough for her. This is the only way to make her hate me.

And she’s never going to forgive you for this.

She’ll never want to have any kind of relationship with you after this. Which is exactly what I want, right?

My stomach heaves, and I swallow down the taste of bile. I manage to keep all emotions off my face—Acting!—and look her up and down. "You didn’t think I was going to simply forgive you for what your brother did to me?"

"My brother Diego? B-b-but I thought you said you d-didn’t hold me responsible for that. I-I thought you’d p-put that b-b-behind us?"

She’s stammering, and I know it’s because she’s shocked.

She only ever stammers when she experiences high emotion.

And right now, I’m putting her through something very traumatic.

Only, I feel her pain as if it were my own.

My lungs burn. I manage to take a step back, putting more distance between us.

This way, I won’t be tempted to touch her, to kiss her, to throw myself at her feet and ask her to forgive me for what I’m going to do to her. To us.

This is the right thing. It is.

I square my shoulders. I straighten my spine.

"You thought I’d be willing to overlook that you accused me of forcing myself on you?

That your brother and his men scarred my face and changed the trajectory of my life?

It’s taken me twice as long to get to where I am because of that.

You turned my life upside down; you made me face the kinds of challenges that would have defeated anyone else. "

"But not you.”

"Not me. I was determined to keep going, to prove to myself, and to the world, that I could make it. And all that time, I knew, one day, I’d have my revenge for what your brother did.

It’s the one thing that kept me going through all of those rejections, those doors that were slammed in my face, those who thought I was never going to make it to the top spot in Hollywood. "

"And becoming number one is so important to you?"

She’s asking me the same question Knight did. And I know my answer now. I know it’s not.

Nothing is more important than you. Nothing comes close to you.

Nothing makes me happier than making you happy.

Than seeing you happy. Than ensuring you’re never subjected to the kinds of depraved acts I want to subject you to.

And that's why I have to push you away from me. And perhaps, one day, you’ll even forgive me for it. But even if you don’t, that’s fine.

I’m doing the right thing. This much, I’m sure of.

I set my jaw. "It is."

Her gaze widens. "So, when you told me you had feelings for me, you…"

"Lied."

“B-b-b-but why?” She swallows. “Y-you were so c-convincing.”

I shrug. “Speaks volumes for my acting skills, eh?” I smirk, but it feels more like a grimace. I should be used to acting the villain, but this is too real, too painful.

She glances away, then back at me. "Which means—" She blinks rapidly. "Which means, you asked me to come with you to LA because—"

"I was planning my revenge for what your brother did to me, because of you. And when this opportunity came up, I had to take it.”

“So, you planned the entire scene? You counted on me—”

“Walking in and finding me with my fiancée?” I nod. “In fact, I’m surprised how well it all came together. Perhaps I have a future as a director, too.”

She pales even more. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and my guts churn.

No, no, no, don’t cry, Rabbit. Don’t or I won’t be able to go through with this, and I need to.

For your sake, I need to. I absolutely cannot allow you to get close enough to me that I'll do what I've wanted to do to you since you came back into my life.

I cannot allow you to become as depraved as I am.

My chest hurts. I try to breathe but it’s as if I’ve swallowed glass. I might have set out to make her hate me, but right now, I loathe myself in a way I would not have thought possible.

“You never meant anything you said?” she asks softly.

I tilt my head and let a considering look creep into my eyes.

At least, I hope that's how it looks. I've never had to act so contrary to what I'm actually feeling.

I've never had to fight myself like this. “Oh, everything I said in bed was true. I didn’t have to fake the chemistry between us, and that made my job easier. Besides, you were begging for it.” I chuckle.

To my ears, it sounds like I'm choking. “Poor repressed Mafia princess, you couldn’t wait to spread your legs for the first man who said all the right thing to you, and—”

I see her move, see her hand coming in my direction, but I don’t stop her palm from connecting with my face. I absorb the blow, relishing the entirely too brief respite from the pain in my heart.

There’s a low whirring sound, then another flashbulb goes off outside the window.