"Yes, you were, and you're doing it again." When I dared to lift my gaze from the carpet, he stood over me, brawny arms folded, highlighting his impressive biceps. "Tell me why you left the estate against my express wishes?"
Surely he knew? I twisted my hands, itching to get away from what felt like an interrogation.
"You ran away because of the Instagram post." He sighed. "If you'd bothered to talk to Ronan, you'd have discovered the post was fake."
"Right. The photo of him in some ho's bed was AI?" He must think I was dumb.
"No, the photo was genuine, but the timing of it was wrong. Ronan thinks he slept with the woman last year at some point. It definitely wasn't last week, or whatever she claims."
"Hmm." Gaslighting 101: talk to your target in a soft, empathetic voice that makes whatever bullshit you're spinning sound utterly believable.
Declan dropped onto the sofa next to me, not quite within touching distance, but close enough that I could smell his subtle cologne.
"Running away from your problems is not the answer, darling."
My traitorous heart leaped in joy at his use of the word 'darling' in relation to me.
I was so fucked.
42
Declan
Verity curled up into herself, looking like she'd rather be anywhere but here, in this hotel suite with me. Well, tough fucking shit. I needed her to see that running away every time something or someone caused her emotional pain was not the answer.
After talking to Conal, I understood why she'd left. Saoirse had behaved like a brat. It was none of her fucking business who Verity slept with, and acting all betrayed when she discovered her best friend had formed a relationship with our brothers was ridiculous.
"Did Saoirse ever tell you about Grant?"
Verity looked confused about where this was going. "No?"
"Grant was Katie's father."
"Katie, from school?" I nodded and her brow furrowed. "Katie left rather abruptly, but I never knew why. She was Saoirse's friend, not mine. Did something happen?"
"Yeah, you could say that." I grimaced at the memory. "Saoirse slept with Grant." It had caused me all kinds of grief when I found out. Mostly because I put the asshole in hospital fordaring to sleep with a 16-year-old girl. He and his family moved to Scotland a month after the hospital discharged him.
Naturally,conveniently, Saoirse had forgotten about thatbrieflapse in judgment.
"My point here is that she has no right to judge you for sleeping with the twins when she's done stupid shit, too."
Verity seemed stunned. Saoirse had obviously not told her about Grant. Unsurprisingly, given what happened after.
She and the twins had been blowing up my phone ever since we arrived in the hotel, but so far, I'd ignored all of them after providing a brief update to say our girl was safe.
Since I planned to deliver Verity back into the arms of her loving sister the minute the airport reopened, there was little point in them getting inside her head.
The twins might not agree, but it was better for all of them if their fling ended. Verity deserved someone better than my asshole brothers. And she definitely deserved a better man than me.
Not only was I way too old for her, but I already had my hands full with fucking Bridget and her drama. The silly mare had thrown a major hissy fit when she discovered I wouldn't be around to escort her to the Rose Gala in New York, the highlight of her social calendar. An event attended by all the key names in the fashion world, A-list celebrities, top media personalities, and minor royalty.
Frankly, I'd rather stick my head in a gas oven.
Greg, her gay BFF, could accompany her. He loved that shit.
Bridget didn't know it yet but she and I were done. I planned to take her out for lunch and give her the good news. She'd not be happy about it, but I didn't give a flying fuck.
The only reason I'd stuck it out this long was because she spent less time in Ireland these days. But since Verity's arrival, Bridgethad become needy, for lack of a better word, and I thought I knew why.
