Chapter 8 - Confession at Gunpoint
The drive back to Lake Forest was shrouded in a thick midnight fog rolling off Lake Michigan.
Declan entered the master bedroom quietly, expecting Penny to be asleep. Instead, he found the soft amber bedside lamps illuminated. Penny was sitting up, her laptop closed on the nightstand, her gray-blue eyes watching the door with an intensity that told him she had been waiting for every second of the three hours he had been gone.
Declan paused in the doorway. He looked down at his suit—clean, immaculate, not a drop of Bellini’s blood on his cuffs. He had changed jackets in the car, unwilling to bring the scent of execution into the room where she was healing.
“You did it,” she said softly. It wasn't an accusation; it was a simple statement of fact.
Declan closed the heavy oak doors, locked them, and walked toward the bed. “The threat to your life has been permanently removed, Penny. Marco Bellini and Julian Vance will never breathe the same air as you again.”
Penny’s breath hitched. She pulled the emerald robe closer around her shoulders. “The whole city... they’re talking about it already. Leo texted me the channel updates. You killed a council head inside the Union League Club.”
“I executed a traitor who ordered an attack on the most valuable asset this syndicate possesses,” Declan corrected, coming to a halt at the edge of the mattress.
Penny looked down at her cast, her fingers tracing the rough fiberglass. “Declan... asset? Is that what I am to you? A brilliant accountant who saved your money?”
The silence in the room stretched until the crackle of the fireplace was the only sound between them.
Declan let out a low, ragged breath. He reached up, untied his silk tie, and pulled it free, tossing it onto the armchair. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, stripping away the armor of the Mafia King until only the raw, tormented man remained.
He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her uninjured hand, pulling her gently toward him until she was forced to look into his face.
“Do you know what happened to me when the paramedic called at 2 A.M.?” Declan asked, his voice shaking with a tremor she had never heard in him before. “I have stood over the bodies of my father and my brother without shedding a tear. I have watched empires burn and felt nothing. But when that man said your name... when he said you were found unconscious in an alley... my heart stopped beating, Penny.”
Penny’s lips parted, her eyes widening as she saw the sheer, unbridled agony dancing in his gray irises.
“I have loved you for three years,” Declan confessed, his voice dropping into a raw, desperate whisper. “I have loved the way you laugh when you think no one is listening. I have loved the way you defend your ideas against men twice your size. I have spent three years watching you walk across my office, wanting nothing more than to gather you in my arms, strip you bare, and show you that every curve, every inch of your magnificent body was made to be worshiped by me.”
Tears welled in Penny’s eyes, spilling over her bruised cheeks. “Declan... I’m not... I’m not the kind of woman who belongs in a palace like this. I’m a normal girl from the West Side. I have hips that break antique chairs. I don't fit into the high-society mold—”
“Damn high society,” Declan snarled softly, leaning in until his lips hovered a millimeter from hers. “You are a goddess. You are soft where the world is hard. You are sharp where the world is dull. I don't want a fragile socialite who flinches at shadows, Penny. I want *you*. I want the woman who broke Julian Vance’s ribs before she went down. I want the woman who held my empire together while her own bones were breaking.”
Penny let out a broken sob, her left hand reaching up to tangle into the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck.
“You idiot,” she whispered through her tears. “Do you know how many times I stayed late at the office just to watch you read through reports? Do you know how many nights I went home to that empty apartment, wishing you would stop being my boss and just look at me?”
Declan didn't wait for another word.
He closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth against hers with an intoxicating mixture of desperate hunger and infinite reverence. His lips were warm, demanding, yet exquisitely careful not to jostle her injured ribs. Penny melted into him, a soft whimper escaping her throat as his large hand cupped the back of her head, anchoring her against the storm of his passion.
For four years, they had been king and clerk.
May you like
Tonight, in the sanctuary of his bedroom, they were two souls colliding in the wreckage of an empire reborn.
***
