A knock on my door saves me from having to travel far for his assistance.
I grab the knob and tug the door open. “Hey.”
Declan leans against the doorframe, his hair perfectly styled and his tux molded to his muscles as if it was sewn straight onto his body. The only thing unkempt about him is the way his bowtie lays undone against his shirt.
You had to go and marry one of the most handsome men in all of Chicago.
Screw Chicago. More like the most handsome man in all of the world.
I want to drown in his whiskey-colored eyes and never come up for air. There is something about the way he looks at me that seems to strip me bare, ridding myself of any sensible thoughts. Some men look like a dream. Others a nightmare. Declan happens to be a lethal combination of the two—beautiful in a way that should terrify me. Emphasis on the should because if anything, I yearn for more. Especially after our kiss earlier.
“You look…” He pauses.
“If you say nice, I swear I’ll make your death look like an accident.”
“Devastating.”
My throat tightens with emotion. “Are we back to using English words to describe our feelings?”
His eyes glitter. “Only for tonight.”
I break eye contact first, unable to withstand his stare.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Almost. I just need your help with something first.” I turn and pull my braids over my shoulders, revealing my exposed back. “I can’t reach.”
My cheeks heat as I think back to our wedding night. Somehow, I continue to land myself in this position without even trying.
He doesn’t move to help me, so I glance over my shoulder to see if he is still there. His eyes are transfixed on my back. They trace the length of my spine like invisible fingers before stopping at the dimples.
“Declan?”
His eyes snap back to mine. “I got it.” He steps forward and reaches out his hand. Instead of grabbing onto the zipper at the bottom, his knuckles graze the base of my neck. A shiver racks my body as he drags his fist down my back. The way he draws out the simple task makes me regret ever asking him for help in the first place.
Why didn’t you choose a dress that doesn’t have a zipper?
I suck in a breath as the tips of his fingers hover over one of my dimples. My neck heats as Declan releases a heavy sigh, and the silky material of his tux brushing against my bare arms sends another current of energy through me.
What is going on?
The drag of the zipper fills the silence, and all too soon, his warmth pressing against my back disappears.
He readjusts my hair for me, and my heart gallops in response. “We should get going.”
“Hold on. You forgot this.”
His brows pull together as I step forward and grab the ends of his bow tie. I pull on one side before passing the longer end into the neck loop. He releases a shuddery breath as my fingers brush his skin, and I look up to catch his gaze fixed on me. The way he looks at me feels…
Devastating.
I hurry through the rest of the steps before I do something crazy like pull his lips down to mine. “There.” I readjust the sides so the knot is centered.
I move to step away, but he grabs my hands and holds them hostage against his chest. “Thank you.”
My slow blink gives me a moment to process. “It’s just a bow tie.”
“I mean for everything. The fake dates…”
“The broken laws.”
“And noses.”
I laugh. “That was all you.”
His lips curve into a seductive smile that makes my knees tremble. He reaches out and traces my cheek with his thumb, and my stomach does a betraying little flip that terrifies me.
No matter how tonight goes, one thing is clear: Declan isn’t going to back down. If anything, our kiss made him bolder. I’m not sure how I am going to survive tonight without doing something stupid.
God help me.
Declan and I make it to the gala without kissing, fighting, or talking. It isn’t until he steps out of the car and holds out his arm for me to take that he finally speaks.
“How long do we have to stay here?”
I clutch onto his hand and exit the car. “We haven’t even gone inside yet.”
He huffs. “You know how I feel about these things.”
“I might know how, but not why.”
His eyes seem to roam over me before landing back on my face. “I have my reasons.”
“Do they have anything to do with you painfully pretending you like other people for two hours straight?”
“If only it were that simple.”
“What would you do if you didn’t have me around to save you from hours of small talk?”
“Death by a butter knife would be most appropriate given the setting.”
I lean into his side as I laugh. He wraps his arm around my waist, and I look at him with wide eyes and a smile that has yet to fall. His lips part as if he is about to say something, but our moment is cut short by a flash of a camera bulb. Someone shouts Declan’s name. It sobers me enough to take in our surroundings and the different people mulling about the red carpet, interviewing each person who walks by.
I give him a reassuring pat on his chest. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner we go inside, the sooner we get to leave.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice.”
I laugh again, and his hand on my waist tightens.
Does he like my laugh? The idea seems comical given Declan’s preference for silence.
My theory is proven correct later on when I break out into another fit of laughter and Declan’s hand squeezes my hip in response. A rush of happiness hits me as I come to grips with my revelation.
Interesting. Very interesting.
1 Noun, Greek: A pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it.”
28
IRIS
It doesn’t take us long to spot Brady Kane’s lawyer. He would be hard to miss given his boisterous voice and equally loud embroidered tux.
Declan makes a move to walk over to his corner of the ballroom, but I tug him back.
“We should play it cool and wait for him to come to us.”
The ice in Declan’s whiskey glass rattles as he takes a long sip. “You want us to wait and do what, exactly?”
I awkwardly laugh before taking a deep chug of my wine. “Talk?”
He grimaces.
“So how was work today?”
He shoots me a glare. “You were there.”
“I don’t follow you around 24/7. There are plenty of things I might miss, like you struggling with a printer or harassing an innocent employee because they forgot to use Arial font in an email. I mean, come on, what did Times New Roman ever do to you?”
His scowl deepens. “It’s not my fault they can’t follow simple directions.”
“I think you’d be surprised at how motivated people are to do a good job when you rein in the attitude.”
He looks away with a huff.
I grin. “You know, as the future CEO, you will have to learn a couple things about leadership if you want to be successful.”
“I know how to lead.”