Between Commitment and Betrayal (Hardy Billionaire Brothers, #1)(32)

“See that you do,” he murmured before pulling the phone from his cheek.

Yet, the Declan in front of me now … I wasn’t sure which it was. The player or the businessman, ruthless and angry, ready to get his way.

“Peter, turn the car around.”

“Sir?”

“Peter, don’t. We’ll be late for work,” I said with a surprising amount of authority.

“Ma’am.”

I kept my composure as Declan clicked a button and suddenly a black partition slid up between the front seats and the back. With every centimeter of the driver disappearing from view, my heart rate skyrocketed.

In a way I wanted.

In a way I shouldn’t.

“You have another shirt in that duffel bag to wear?”

“Not one I’m willing to put on right now. It’s for after my workout.”

“Then we’re going back to the house for you to change, Everly.”

“Mr. Hardy,” I drawled his name, “this is merely a shirt. Please don’t tell me you’re going to lose your temper over it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

I pursed my lips, attempting not to smile. He had to know I was going to wear my HEAT sports bra under this at the fitness center. “Are you truly that easy to rile? I’ll wear my sports bra there, Declan.”

I broke eye contact so I wouldn’t burst out laughing right in his face.

“Carl would be so disgusted with you right now.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Part of that will was to not have you entertaining the idea of Wes when you’re married to me—”

“I’m not really married to you.” The laughter bubbled out. I couldn’t help it. “This is all so ridiculous.”

“Fuck me,” he groaned. “What’s ridiculous is you thinking that a Cobra is going to be okay with you staying at my place every night.”

“Your guesthouse.”

“You think he’s going to enjoy knowing I fucked you into oblivion on the hood of my car?”

I couldn’t stop the flush from overtaking my body. “We aren’t telling people any of that. When the time comes, I’ll be honest with him and let him know it’s a marriage of convenience with stipulations for the benefit of HEAT’s corporation. We were doing what my father wanted. No more, no less.”

“Isn’t it ‘more’ since I know how your pussy tastes, Everly?”

“Declan, that was— It won’t happen again.”

“We got a whole year of you and me crossing paths, and you think it won’t?”

“Why would it? We had our fun.” I straightened in my seat and tried not to even look at him now. If I did, he’d know I was thinking about how he felt inside me, how I couldn’t stop imagining it. “And now we have a commitment to fulfill. Let’s do it efficiently without changing things or throwing in surprises.”

“That’s the thing babe, I don’t mind a change or a surprise.”

“I do. Plus, I know I’m personally no good at relationships.”

“And why is that?” He lifted a brow.

Sharing my past with him would mean trusting him to not look at me like most people in my town did. I didn’t trust anyone with that yet. “Past is in the past.”

I said it and tried so hard to believe it.

I saw how he sighed, how he nodded and tensed his jaw. Good, he needed to put his barrier back up too. “Fine, other than our tax status, our lives stay the same. Nothing else has changed. Easy.”

Famous last words.





13




DECLAN





WE MANAGED to stay off everyone’s radar the first month and a half, aside from the whispers.

Everly was quiet, insanely organized, and a creature of habit. I’d seen it time and time again since she’d started working at the gym.

She threw her coffee in the same trash as she walked in, wore her watch on the same wrist, even had designated colors for most every day of the week. Red on Mondays, white on Tuesdays, and on Wednesdays, she wore royal blue, my favorite because the color set off her eyes. I was happy to see some of the athleisure I’d sent over made it into her rotation too, although I wasn’t sure about the lingerie.

Yet, my dumb ass was still thinking of trying to find out.

Every day she let me drive her to the gym, unless I wasn’t going into work or was heading out of town. She’d then let Peter take her in. And she never wanted breakfast at my place, even though I’d invited her. So we’d idle outside her place until she was ready.

Every day, we were cordial. Friendly.

Our tax status was the only thing between us for a whole damn month. Until, on a royal-blue Wednesday, she burst into my office while I was on a call, wringing her hands as she realized what she’d done. I lifted a brow and told the person on the line to wait. “There a problem out there, Drop?”

“You installed pop tabs for the kids to collect. You gave them something to work toward.” She whispered out, “You’re on a call. Sorry to burst in—”

“Reschedule my meeting,” I ordered into the phone, holding her shimmering gaze as I clicked it off.