Between Commitment and Betrayal (Hardy Billionaire Brothers, #1)(54)

She shook her head at me, eyes widening as I came toward her. “Don’t you dare, Declan.”

She knew I was going to. She wasn’t even attempting to outrun me or fight me, either, because she knew my way was better.

I bent and caught her right in the hips where I could raise her up over my shoulder. Hanging on to her legs and walking her back to my car was easy.

She didn’t fight.

She just murmured, “This is going to look great in the papers. You carrying your employee to work.”

“Maybe I should correct the fucking papers then, Everly and tell them you’re my wife.”





21




EVERLY





HE PRACTICALLY THREW me into the passenger seat and went the extra mile to buckle me in like I couldn’t do it myself.

“I can buckle my own seat belt,” I ground out as he did. I hated that I’d been hurt hearing him talk with Melinda and Anastasia, hated that I cared, hated that I hadn’t thought over the consequences of running to work right after.

Emotions were to be tamed, controlled, and wrangled into submission.

Be calm. Collected. You can’t show anything else.

I knew that. I’d done it back home. I should have been able to do that here. Yet, Declan infected me with a hope of something better, and I’d fallen stupidly for it.

“I’m not sure you can at this point,” he growled. “You seem to suddenly want to throw caution to the fucking wind when it comes to safety.”

I scoffed at his ridiculous statement, but he didn’t give me time to reply as he swung my door closed and got in the driver’s side.

We stewed the rest of the way to work as I shuffled around my duffel bag and glanced behind us to make sure no was taking pictures. “If that really does come out in the magazines—”

“I’m going to dinner with Piper and Anastasia. I’ll make sure she knows.”

“Right,” I seethed, rolling my threaded bracelets around on my wrist. I couldn’t be mad at him for going to dinner with them and yet I wanted to. I wanted to scream at him for it even though it’s what he should have been doing. And when Declan pulled into his designated owner’s parking spot, separating him and everyone else, it only served to remind me of the vast divide between us—I was an employee, he was the boss.

I got out of the car fast before he could open my door.

“That’s two times now you’ve done that.”

“Done what?”

He followed me. “Gotten out of my car without letting me open the door for you.”

“I don’t need help with a freaking door, Declan. Or anything for that matter.” I approached the revolving door and hoped Declan wouldn’t attempt to step into the same wedge of glass as me.

He did.

And then he slammed his hand on the glass behind us to stop the rotation. I jumped as I whipped around to see the glare he had directed at me.

“You need help with this door, Everly?” he said, his voice low in warning, like I’d pushed him to the edge of sanity. Me. The woman he’d fucked a few days earlier but then told his friends was just an employee. He held it there, not letting the autorotation continue.

“Are you serious?” I glanced at the front desk where I saw Juna wide-eyeing us.

“Dead fucking serious.” His stare held mine, his presence powerful and vibrating with energy.

“What are you even mad about right now that would warrant this public of a reaction?”

“You seem to think I give two shits about the public. The public cares about me, I don’t care about them. If they want to document me having a fit with my wife, they sure as shit can. But what they’re not going to do is see you getting away with endangering yourself again. You won’t be jogging to work or home from work. If you do, I’m hiring security to tail you.”

“You can’t think that’s—”

“And since you finally decided to step foot in my house, you can join me for dinner every night. Breakfast in the morning too.”

“That all?” I said, the anger boiling in me now too. Did he think I would easily bend to his will?

“I will open doors for you, Drop, or I’ll keep them closed until you let me.”

“Well, that’s just immature, Declan.” He was being a child and letting his frustration get the best of him. “Is this how you handle your emotions?”

“I can take you to the locker room if you want me to show you how I really handle my emotions when it comes to you.”

I pulled at the collar of my sports bra, trying to let the heat my body felt escape. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes. I’m sick of not being in control. I let your father call a lot of shots in our business, but he’s gone. The only thing he gets to control now is our marriage. I let the media push me one way when I wanted to go another. I didn’t used to until this empire’s responsibility began bearing down on me. I’m about done with letting the press dictate my life.”

“We have to maintain public composure and approach this with level heads—”

“You want me to have a level head, Everly, then listen.” He didn’t wait for me to respond, his eyes were a dark, dark green, like they’d changed with his mood. “The press is about to dig into our relationship hard because we’re arguing on the side of a road. So, now might be the time to drop the news.”