Declan's Demand

“Stop touching her, asshole.”

Stupidly he smiles at me, as if he knows the reaction his movements will cause within me. My patience is thin and my jaw hurts from grinding teeth on teeth.

“And do what? Bring her inside? Leave her? It’s your call, boss.” I don’t like the way he addresses me, but there isn’t time right now to take him to task for it.

“Don’t be obtuse. Bring her inside before the neighbors see.” I look around and watch a curtain shuffle. Mrs. O’Malley is a nosey one, but old school. She won’t call the police. I know this because she used to babysit my father, and later me and my siblings before our criminal enterprises. That woman is old enough to be my elderly grandmother. I heard stories that she slapped his hand a time or two with her wooden spoon for being a little devil. Too bad none of that encouraged him to be a better adult. She benefited more than most being on Damien Natas’ good side, and often joined our family dinners once a week. I have a good idea that she’ll be over with stew and fresh bread, conniving us to get her fill of gossip, before the evening is out.

Fuck me.

I let Neil carry Sydney inside. He’s walking up the steps to the second floor bedrooms when the front doorbell rings again. Groaning, I can’t take much more of this bullshit today.

I swing the door open, growling. “What?” I yell, having to look down to the new interloper.

“Don’t you yell at me, young man! I’ve changed the diapers of two generations of this family, you little shit!” Mrs. O’Malley smacks my chest and arm in rapid succession, pointing her thin, gnarled finger at me. She could probably stab me with her finger and kill me quicker than a bullet, and I step back to avoid further abuse.

“Damn it, Maggie.”

She stands barely five feet tall; the only thing breaking sixty inches is her smooth white-haired bun on top of her head coupled with heeled shoes that probably predate my existence.

“Don’t you curse at me, Declan Arden Cathal Natas.”

I clench my jaw tight. Maggie will drive me to chip a tooth with her bossy interference.

“Now where is the girl?” Her powdery perfume snakes into my nostrils, drowning out Sydney’s floral scent despite the rain outside.

I look toward the stairs and Neil is already gone.

Maggie gives me a look worthy of shriveling a better man.

I mumble that they are upstairs.

“Speak up, boy,” she shouts.

“Upstairs.” I wave my hand at the stairs, allowing her to follow Neil. I don’t even look at her as I shut the front door and pull my cellphone out of my pocket to call the doctor.

“Call the doctor!” Maggie yells from the top of the stairs, continuing to mutter. “You boys are both nitwits!”

My eyes strain from rolling so hard.

So much for being a badass mob boss in charge. This was all turning into a clusterfuck out of my control.

Chapter Eight

Sydney

Crackling pops wake me, as does the warmth cocooning my body in the soft blankets. I get my bearings, leaving my eyes shut and ignoring the whisper of voices and the shutting of a door.

“Welcome back to the living.” A low voice seduces me from sleep. I think I know how Sleeping Beauty felt when the prince came.

I turn my head to the left, smelling something meaty and delicious that makes my stomach grumble and my mouth water. Instead of food, my gaze feasts on a man in a dark, muted silver dress shirt and tailored vest. In fact, everything about him is dark. Up close I see Declan’s eyes and hair are inky black against his olive complexion. So much for the fairy tale; instead I ended up with the Prince of Darkness himself. Not only is my mouth wet, but a wave of heat flushes me, making me shift sore limbs under the heavy blankets.

I stare at him, taking deep breaths to recollect myself and how I ended up here. It takes a bit to orient myself, dizzily looking over the edges of the bed. I realize quickly that I’m lying on a soft mattress several feet off the floor, and he’s lying next to me, propped up on his elbows and pinning me under the comforter. It’s a king-sized bed that occupies a bedroom larger than my entire apartment. The furnishings are dark wood with gold gilding and probably cost more than I make in a year.

“Seems like you got yourself into a spot of trouble.” Declan rolls off the bed all smiles, his teeth straight and bright white up close. I guess in our previous encounters I focused on other parts of him, too busy to notice how disarming his smile could be. He reaches for a glass of amber liquid, taking a sip.

“I did?” Playing stupid doesn’t get me any time, because he doesn’t buy it for a second. I take a peek under the covers and see I’m wearing a man’s white V-neck T-shirt and boxer briefs.

“Those are mine, don’t worry. It was easy to slip you into something, seeing as how you arrived naked as a jaybird.”