The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) (11 page)

This was different, though. This wasn’t a simple stomach bug. It wasn’t even the flu. She was pretty sure there was a much more serious problem going on here, and he was protecting her from it. With a sickening jolt in her gut, she thought of bigger illnesses—ones he might not be able to come back from. But she discarded those thoughts immediately. If he had something as serious as a disease, he’d tell her. She was sure of it.

Which left…about a hundred other possibilities, when taking his physical symptoms into account. There was nothing specific she could look up, just general human wear and tear. “Pale skin” and “losing weight” pointed to almost every illness in human existence.

It was hopeless. And, in the end, with frustration churning in her gut, she shut down the computer and headed to the kitchen, deciding to wait until she could speak to Dr. O’Malley. Now all she had to do was let Grant know about the appointment…and with how snappy and almost vicious he was being lately, that would surely mean he’d bite her head off about it. Still, she’d take it. She’d take anything if it meant getting better.

Declan arrived home earlier than she’d been expecting.
Home
. Like she’d moved into his penthouse. Like they
lived together
. It had only been a matter of days, and already she felt more comfortable here than she did at her own place. Which was dangerous thinking, especially with this man—she might have tipped herself fully into a physical relationship with him, and perhaps his knight-in-shining-armor act had a certain sentimental effect on her, but it didn’t mean she was ready to forget his history. She wasn’t ready to throw her whole heart into trusting him.

But she was entitled to some fun of her own, so long as it stayed on her terms.

“How was lunch?” he asked her, slipping off his jacket and loosening his tie, unbuttoning his top button and rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing strong forearms and a bronzed collarbone and generally making her melt with how sexy he was.

She pushed her inappropriate thoughts aside and allowed an image of her brother to float miserably through her mind. “There’s something wrong with him. He’s so sick, but…I don’t know. He says it’s the flu.”

Declan raised his eyebrows, coming to lean against the counter beside where she stood chopping carrots. “You don’t believe him?”

“Something’s not right.”

He hummed a little, losing himself in thought for a moment, and then blinked down at the chopping board.

“I’m cooking,” he said, taking the knife from her and gently pushing her aside. She tutted but went with it, reaching for a towel to wipe off her hands. “Did you give him my message?”

“Yeah.” She decided against telling Declan how Grant had just laughed it off. “He’ll probably call you when he’s feeling a bit more up to it.”

Bringing the knife down through a carrot, Declan said quietly, almost to himself, “I’ll have to pay him a visit soon.” And it hit her then, in that moment—Grant was Declan’s oldest friend. They went back years, and it was Declan who’d been there for Grant when he last got sick. As much as all of this was affecting Maggie, it was likely bothering Declan just as much. No one liked to see a good friend suffer in any way.

“I’m sure he’d like that,” she said softly, and rubbed his arm a moment.

They were silent for several seconds, the only sound Declan scraping his knife across the board, while Maggie watched him from behind, trying to appreciate his wide shoulders and strong back, but unable to quite banish the worrying image of her brother.

Abruptly, Declan dropped the knife and turned, reaching for her with the air of wanting to sweep aside all troubling thoughts. “You know what
I’d
like?” he said, falling back against the counter and pulling her close, until she settled between his legs with her hands on his shoulders, his around her waist. “A kiss.”

She smiled, warmth filling her chest. She might not trust that this was a relationship she could depend on, but neither could she deny how Declan’s proximity and fiery eyes made her feel. “Hmm, think I can manage that,” she said, leaning in, her stomach flipping over at the dazzling grin he shot her in the instant before their lips met—

His phone rang.

“Excuse me,” he said, and to her colossal surprise, he pushed her away. Didn’t ignore the call or let it go to voice mail—didn’t even let it ring a few times. The instance the sound pierced their intimate moment, he pushed her back and yanked the phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen before answering and muttering, “Hold on,” into it.

She blinked at him; the sensation of her heart sinking very slowly into her stomach made her want to wrap her arms around herself. “Work?”

“Uh—” He held the phone to his chest—shielding the screen, she realized—and looked at her with awkwardness. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Then he hurried out of the room.

She tried to be the bigger person, she really did, but her warring emotions got the better of her and she found herself tiptoeing towards the bedroom, in which Declan had secluded himself. Ear pressed against the door, she heard his muttered tones, but no distinct words. Whoever he was speaking to, he was making damn sure she couldn’t figure it out.

The sickening, heavy weight of doubt and suspicion thudded into her gut and, absolutely unable to decide how she wanted to act, she headed back to the kitchen and waited, white noise buzzing in her ears and her blood burning hot through her face.

When he returned, he looked sheepish and shifty—two things she never wanted to face, because in most cases, it only meant one thing.

“I have to head out for a little while,” he said. “Can we postpone dinner?”

She swallowed, trying to hitch a bland smile onto her face. “I’ll get takeout.”

“Sure? All right.” He slipped on his jacket and smacked a kiss on her cheek simultaneously, then reached for his wallet and keys on the counter. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She nodded and he headed towards the door, before he abruptly stopped and turned back, walked up to her and seized her mouth in a bruising kiss. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he murmured, eyes dazzling, and then he was gone.

Unable to comprehend her whirlwind thoughts, Maggie slumped back against the counter and rubbed a hand over her face. A slice of carrot rolled desolately onto the floor.

D
eclan was a man on a mission
. He couldn’t believe it when Grant’s name flashed up on his phone—after a few days of radio silence, he’s resigned himself to Grant avoiding him for the foreseeable future, his mind already working overtime to come up with a way of getting Maggie out of this mess without involving her brother. The problem was, from a legal standpoint, he could only see one solution here: redirect the investigation. But there was only one other direction it could go, and Declan was pretty sure Grant didn’t suit orange.

So when Grant finally returned his many calls, it was the lifeline he needed—even if this particular lifeline didn’t have a completely happy ending for everyone.

Grant had tried to brush him off, something about needing to catch up on a few days’ of sleep, that maybe he’d call him next week, man, it’s all good,
you know me, tough as nails…
But he’d let slip that he was at his apartment right now, and Declan wasn’t waiting another minute.

“Hey Sam, how’s the wife?” he asked the doorman of Grant’s building as he swept past him towards the elevators.

“Still alive, dammit!”

Up sixteen flights to the floor occupied by Grant Emerson in the cooler months, Declan marched down the corridor with determination and then hammered on the dark-wood door.

No response.

He knocked again, and then leaned on the doorbell. Not even the housekeeper, let alone any other staff—Grant must’ve sent them all away.

Eventually, after Declan’s repeated knocks, doorbell pressing, and calls on the phone, the door swung open, revealing Grant dressed in silk pants and an open robe—luxury loungewear to highlight quite how horrendous he looked.

The last time Declan had seen him had been at the wedding, when he’d looked the kind of rough he’d become all too familiar with in the summer. But this…he’d never seen him like this before.

For a moment, Declan found himself entirely speechless.

With a long-suffering sigh, Grant stepped aside to let him in. “I just wanted to be left alone for a while, man. I feel like hell.”

“I’m surprised you finally returned a call,” Declan said, snapping himself out of it and walking past Grant into his apartment. He didn’t live in a penthouse like Declan, but his home still took up an entire floor, and the way he furnished it gave it an opulent feel, perhaps even more so than Declan’s.

Although that wasn’t the case today. It was obvious he hadn’t used the services of his housekeeper in a good while—pizza boxes and beer bottles littered the surfaces, items of clothing draped over the backs of the white-leather couches. There was a suspicious stain on the rug and the curtains were drawn, shutting out daylight.

Declan swallowed, his stomach twisting sickeningly.

“You got Maggie on my case,” Grant accused. “What was I supposed to do?”

Declan turned to face him, and he’d had a plan coming here—a plan to ease Grant into the situation, butter him up a bit, get him talking before digging deeper for the answers he needed. But seeing the state of Grant now, of Grant’s entire life, Declan knew there was no point delaying the inevitable, beating around the bush. He observed a sunken-eyed Grant for a moment and said, “She doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Grant stared at him. His dazed expression suggested he lacked understanding of
anything
right now, let alone what Declan was alluding to. “What?”

“You,” Declan said, and then, ensuring he had Grant’s complete attention: “Framing her for the stealing.”

It was as if an invisible frying pan had smacked into Grant’s face. “Declan—”

“I didn’t guess it, not straight away.” He took a step towards Grant, scratched idly at his temple. “It wasn’t until she got suspended and I spoke to that cop—did you know she’s suspended, by the way?” he added, watching with a perverse sort of pleasure as Grant’s eyes filled with undiluted horror. “She’s under investigation.”

Grant, shaking his head, horror-filled eyes opened wide, looked incapable of speech. “That…it wasn’t supposed to go down that way.”

“You left your DNA in that cabinet. And your DNA is her DNA, so I’m sure you don’t need a lawyer to tell you how screwed she is.”

Bringing a trembling hand to his forehead, Grant slumped back against the wall, looking for a brief moment like a frightened, vulnerable child. Declan’s heart clenched for him—for his old friend, the one buried beneath this junkie veneer.

But then Grant muttered, “They can’t get her on DNA alone,” and Declan stopped feeling sorry for him in an instant.

“That’s not all they’ve got,” he said bitingly. “But you already know that. Why are you framing your own sister, Grant?”

“I’m not! Jesus.” He shoved both hands into his hair, dragged it back off his face. “It was just a few times. I didn’t think—”

“Using her key code,” Declan pointed out, holding up a finger, and then a second one when he added, “You do it every time she’s on shift.”

“Coincidence,” Grant said, shaking his head almost manically. “
Fuck
. I’ve only seen her there once while I—”

“While you snuck in and stole pain meds. We talked about this, man.” The words hurt to say, because he wasn’t lying—he and Grant went through hell together in the summer, getting Grant off the painkillers. He’d become addicted to them after his shattered ankle wouldn’t stop playing up, and Declan hadn’t been able to stand by and watch his oldest friend self-destruct. So he’d come here every day, to this apartment, supported Grant all through the withdrawal period—a shoulder to cry on some days, a punching bag on others.

It hadn’t been easy, and there were enough setbacks for them to consider rehab, but Grant pulled it together in the end, and after, when it was all over, they had a long chat about how he would never get himself in that situation again. And if he did, he would go to Declan and ask for help. He wouldn’t suffer alone.

“I tried,” Grant said, sounding so broken with it that Declan had the overwhelming urge to gather him in close and protect him from the world, just like he’d done in the summer. “I did. I tried so damn
hard
. But it’s been worse lately. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Speaking through the dryness in his throat, Declan said gently, “If the pain was that bad, your doctor would help you. It’s not about pain, is it?” he added, all traces of anger filtering away. This wasn’t a malicious, selfish act from one sibling to another. This was a man in desperate need of help. “You’re addicted again. And an addict would throw anyone under the bus.”

“
Fuck
, man, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I believe you,” Declan said. “Which is why I haven’t turned you in yet.” Relief washed over Grant’s face and Declan let him enjoy it for a moment, but as much as it pained him to lay this on the shoulders of a friend in need, he couldn’t see any other way this could go down: “
You’re
going to do it.”

Grant’s eyes snapped back up to him. “What?”

“She’s gonna lose everything, Grant. Her job, her reputation—she’ll be struck off, left with no choice but to ask your parents for help. She won’t take my money. You know that pride of hers.”

“It won’t go that far.”

“It’s already gone that far,” Declan said. “She’s been suspended, and the cops think they’ve got enough to throw the book at her.”

Grant looked as if the whole weight of everything he’d done had hit him at once, expression of pure torment passing over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“I can’t be the one to tell her that her own brother is ruining her life,” Declan said, shaking his head. “She deserves more than that.”

“Look, buddy—”

Declan could see the backtracking already, Grant’s mind rapidly ticking over, looking for ways to get himself out of this mess without having to own up. But Declan wasn’t going to allow that. Maggie needed to know, and aside from that—Grant, for his own benefit, needed to confess. The law acted far more favorably towards a remorseful man than one trying to act innocent.

“You’re gonna face her,” Declan said firmly, “and you’re gonna tell her what you’ve done. And then you’ll call Detective Sanders, and you’ll say the same to him.”

Grant’s whole face was a picture of panic. “I could go to prison.”

Doubtful, Declan was pretty sure, but Grant’s statement left a bitter taste in his mouth all the same.

“You’d rather she did?”

“It was only supposed to be a couple times,” Grant said desperately, pleadingly, but what did he want from Declan? For him to tell him it was all gonna be okay? Lying to him would help no one. “Just to take the edge off, you know?”

“That’s how it starts. You’re better than this, man.”

He thought he’d hit his mark. Thought he’d gotten through. Assumed, by the clarity washing through Grant’s eyes, that he’d reached the side of him that cared more for his sister than anything else in the world.

It made his heart stutter, therefore, to see Grant’s expression harden. “I need some time,” he said, looking up at him with steel in his gaze.

“What?”

“Look at me. I’m a wreck.” He spoke calmly, robotically. Emotionless. He was cutting off decency.

He was letting the addict speak.

“I can’t do this right now.”

Declan could’ve choked on the sadness that rose in his throat. “What’s happened to you?” he asked, something like an appeal in his voice. “Look at what those pills are doing. This isn’t you.”

For one heart-stopping instant, it looked as if the real Grant wanted to respond. But again, his face shut down, and he said coldly, “Just leave. Stay out of my business.”

And suddenly, Declan was
furious
. He was actively withholding information from the woman who meant the world to him right now, all so he could give Grant the chance to do the right thing himself, and this was how the man in question reacted to finding out he was wrecking his sister’s life?

Fine
, he thought.
Fuck yourself over all you want, but I won’t let you do it to Maggie.

“You’ve got a week to pull your shit together and face this train wreck,” he growled at him, stepping close, pretending he couldn’t see the bloodshot eyes, the hollowed cheeks, all the signs saying Grant needed his help right now way more than his vitriol. This was no longer about what Grant needed. “One week, Grant, and then you’ll leave me with no choice but to tell her myself.” A twitch in Grant’s jaw was the only sign he gave that Declan’s words had any effect on him.

“Don’t force me to turn in my oldest friend,” Declan added. “Do the right thing.”

Then he left Grant to stew in his own mess, his anger taking him all the way to the hospital. He hadn’t intended on hitting two birds with the same stone today, but he was on the war path now, and
someone
was going to answer for what was happening to Maggie. There was no way Declan could go back to her empty handed.

“You’ll be lifting Maggie Emerson’s suspension tomorrow,” he said as he barged his way into Dr. Stevens’ office.

Stevens, caught entirely off guard, jumped in his chair and knocked his glasses askew.

Gathering his composure with rapid ease, he straightened his glasses and sniffed, “That matter is still undecided.”

“I’ve decided it for you.” Declan approached Stevens’ desk and leaned forward on it, weight braced on his fists, invading Stevens’ space and letting his teeth show a little as he said, “You’ve got nothing new, so you’ve got no grounds to keep her off work.”

“If you don’t mind, sir,” Dr. Stevens said, straightening his cuff in an attempt to appear unconcerned by Declan’s threatening behavior, even as his cheeks stained pink and his throat rolled with a dry swallow, “I can only have this conversation in the presence of my—”

“Screw your lawyer,” Declan snarled, punching his fist down on the desk, sending papers fluttering. Dr. Stevens jerked backwards. “I’m the only lawyer you need to worry about. She’ll be back here tomorrow,” he said, “and you’re not gonna give her a hard time. In fact, you’ll be downright
welcoming
. Otherwise, you know what I’ll do? Actually,” he added, straightening up and pulling a business card from his shirt pocket, which he tossed onto Stevens’ keyboard, “look me up. See what happens to people who think they can win against me.”

Then, flashing a twisted smirk, he left the office, left Dr. Stevens looking alarmed, and headed home to Maggie with the certainty that he’d achieved something for her today, even if he hadn’t yet been able to end her nightmare completely.

Dr. Stevens would only need to spend five minutes with Declan’s name in a google search before realizing it was in his best interests to do exactly what he was told.