Hush (Black Lotus #3)(22)

“Declan,” a gentleman who looks to be in his fifties calls out. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”

The two of them shake hands.

“It’s good to see you, Ian. How’ve you been?”

“Busy as ever,” he says before turning his attention to me, asking Declan, “And who’s this lovely lady?”

“You’re a charmer,” I lightly flirt and then introduce myself, “Elizabeth Archer.”

“Lucky man,” Ian notes, to which Declan responds while looking over to me, “Extremely lucky.”

We continue to mingle and Declan introduces me to old friends and a few business men and their wives. He drinks his typical Scotch and I sip champagne, we share a few dances, and when Declan can’t help himself, he whispers his obscene thoughts in my ear. “I want to take you to another room and suck on that pretty little clit of yours until you cum in my mouth.”

I drop my forehead to his shoulder as he speaks to me, my neck igniting in heat with each of his obscenities.

“Just thinking about the taste of your * gets my cock—”

“Declan!” a tall woman with long, dark hair says, interrupting our private moment. “I had no idea you were going to be here!” Annoyance rankles me when she pulls Declan in for a hug.

“Last minute move,” he tells her, composed as ever.

“Move? You’re living here now?”

“I am.”

“So I take it you purchased the land to build on?” she asks, and a trill of jealousy creeps alive in me with how much she knows.

“Davina, this is Elizabeth,” he introduces.

“Yes, I remember you. You were at the charity gala in Edinburgh last month, right?”

And then I remember. She was Declan’s date that night, hanging on his arm and constantly by his side.

“That’s right. And you are . . .?”

“An old family friend,” Declan answers for her.

“Practically brother and sister,” she adds with a big smile. “Although I do fondly remember our wedding. How old were we?”

“Ten. Eleven, maybe.”

Watching them go back and forth with such ease turns that jealousy into full blown spite.

“Sounds charming,” I interject with mockery, and when I do, I can feel Declan’s eyes hurling daggers at me, but I don’t engage.

Davina continues to wear her pretentious smile, adding, “The shortbread and jam reception wasn’t all that elegant, but it still makes for good memories.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to hear more about that humble reception of yours, you’ll have to excuse me.”

As I walk away from the both of them, I wonder if the feelings swarming inside me are anything like what Declan feels, because if I could put my mark on him like a dog claiming ownership, I would. I want to lock him up and pretend he never had a life before me.

And then I have to question how friendly they’ve been, because it was only a few weeks ago she was on his arm as his date.

Red heat slithers up my neck, and before I explode, I rush out the doors and into the chill of night. Clouds of vapor escape me with my heavy breathing. Never in my life have I felt threatened and jealous over a man, but then again, never in my life have I been in love. I loved my brother, but in a very different way. I knew he f*cked other women—lots of other women, but never did I care. And just to know that this woman has had more time with Declan than I have is enough to ignite this thrashing inside me.

“What are you doing out here?” Declan asks from behind me.

“Did you f*ck her?” I seethe quietly so passersby won’t hear.

He takes me by the arm and nearly drags me around the building to the parking lot in the back, pushing me against a random car. He isn’t happy about my question, but I ask it again.

“Did you?”

“Would it make you mad?”

My anger grows.

“Hmm? Answer me.”

“Yes,” I spit in hostility.

He presses his chest against mine, fury roiling behind his eyes when he asks, “Tell me how it makes you feel to think about my dick in another woman’s *.”

In a sudden flash, I slap him hard across the face, but he barely flinches.

“Go ahead. Hit me again.”

“Go to hell.”

“That outrage you feel,” he says through gritted teeth. “That rage mixed with passion and jealousy could never amount to what you made me feel. You let me f*ck you, fall in love with you, all the while knowing you were f*cking your husband. And then I find out you were also letting your brother f*ck you. And you have the nerve to question me!” He takes a pause, pinching his eyes closed before opening them again and continuing. “Do I need to remind you of all the f*cked up ways you destroyed me?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. And to answer your question, no, I’ve never f*cked her. Never wanted to.”

“She was your date.”

“Yes,” he responds. “She was. Like I told you, she’s an old friend. Our families were close and we grew up together. She’s attended many events with me in the past so I didn’t have to go with random women. But now I have you.”

Guilt eclipses jealousy.