Unlike yesterday, Declan is already waiting in the main living space for me at 5 a.m. Sharp.
“You’re late,” he grunts.
I groan. “By two minutes.”
“Here. Let’s go.” He slaps a Styrofoam coffee cup into my empty hand.
I blink at it. “Thank you?” I take a sip and sigh as the first dose of caffeine hits my throat.
He makes a noise with the back of his throat. “No need to thank me. Offering you caffeine is solely for my personal benefit. It tends to make you much more compliant.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
He doesn’t bother answering me as he exits the bungalow.
“Someone is mighty eager to get going today,” I call out to him after grabbing my backpack with all my supplies. The sun hasn’t risen yet, so I’m stuck sticking close by Declan’s side, using the lamps on the dirt path to guide us toward the meet-up location.
“The sooner we get out there, the sooner we get this over with.”
“Please keep your excitement to a minimum. I’m afraid the experience won’t live up to your hype.”
He shoots me a withering glare.
Someone is in a foul mood this morning. One would think I’m taking him to the electric chair with the look on his face. We make our way over to the main lodge, with me sipping my coffee along the walk. Declan seems determined to get to our destination as fast as possible, forcing me to match his speed.
I don’t have legs like a giraffe, so I slow to a normal walking pace before my legs give up from exertion. “What’s your hurry?”
“They said to be there at 5:15 a.m.”
“It’s a vacation, not a doctor’s appointment. They can wait a few minutes longer.”
Declan mutters something under his breath. I make a show of pulling out my phone and taking a few dark photos of some plants. He hates every second of it. His boots drag across this dirt path, tracking dust behind him as he taps away at his phone.
“What happened to taking the day off?” I ask.
Our eyes clash. Neither one of us looks away.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, with an attitude bigger than the state of Texas.”
“I must not be trying hard enough if there’s still Alaska to compete with.”
His comment makes me curl over and laugh until I wheeze. Most people find him dry, sarcastic, and downright unbearable to be around for long periods of time, but I find him funny. Sarcasm might be considered the lowest form of wit, but I find it the most entertaining. I’m not sure what that says about me though.
I stand and collect myself. “How about we call a truce?”
“A truce?” He raises a brow.
I nod. “Let’s spend a day pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. No work. No Yakura. No regrets. Give me one single day of your time without any of the other stuff bogging us down.”
“What do I get out of this?”
Well, that isn’t exactly a no. “You get a happy wife who won’t suffocate you in your sleep tonight.”
“Think about it often?”
My grin makes my cheeks ache. “Depends on what true crime episode I’m inspired by that night.”
He presses his lips together, stopping a grin from ever forming. I can imagine he has a beautiful smile, but I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen it. Not in all the years I’ve worked for him, despite all my best efforts.
“Fine. But only because I don’t think you would survive a day in jail,” he replies.
“You’re right. Orange is so not my color.”
And I swear Declan laughs on the inside.
By the time we make it to the truck area, I’ve drained the entire cup of coffee and feel much more like myself. The safari driver and guide both greet us. Neither of them complains about us being a whole ten minutes late, and I silently mouth told you so to Declan while they prep the truck.
“Are we the first ones here?” I look around the empty area around our idle car.
The guide looks at me with raised brows. “I thought you knew.”
“About?”
“Our tours are meant to be a one-on-one experience so the couples can make the most out of their honeymoon together.”
Well, I suppose I must have interpreted the website incorrectly. I look up at Declan and notice the vein above his right eye has appeared. Great.
He looks down at me. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like people today.”
A laugh explodes out of me. The driver and guide look somewhat horrified, so I calm their worries. “He’s kidding…”
“I’m not,” he replies dryly.
The driver forces a chuckle while the guide looks uncomfortably at me. “We should get going then. The animals wait for no one.”
The driver hops in the front seat while the guide settles into the one hanging off the side of the vehicle. Declan gets on the special truck first. He extends his hand for me to grab, and I’m lifted onto the tall platform with ease. His hand tightens around mine, sending a current of energy up my arm.
He releases it like it burned him.
“So, what animals are you most excited to see today?” the guide asks.
“A leopard!” I clap my hands together.
The guide whistles before giving the driver a look.
“Is that okay?” I ask, concern etching its way into my voice.
He nods. “Of course. We do our best to find the leopards, but they’re cunning creatures.”
“Oh.” My smile falls a fraction.
“We’ll do everything we can to try to find them.”
I nod. “Of course. No pressure.”
The guide turns toward Declan. “And you, sir? What animal would you like to see?”
He gestures toward me. “Whatever she wants.”
“You don’t have a favorite animal?” I ask.
“Seeing as I’m not five, no.”
I try to coax an answer out of him. “Come on. I know it was a long time ago, but think back to your childhood. There had to be at least one animal you liked more than the rest.”
He shoots me a withering glare. “Elephants.”
“Elephants?”
His lips twitch. “What did you expect? A lion?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
“They’re overrated.”
“And elephants aren’t?”
His eyes shift toward the landscape. “My mom liked them.”
My chest tightens from his admission. The lost look in Declan’s eyes threatens my control over my tear ducts. Something about the way he speaks of his mother always seems to soften me toward him like magic.
I don’t think as I grab his balled-up fist and lace our fingers together. “She had good taste.”
A noise gets trapped in his throat before he places his other hand on top of mine, securing it to his thigh. My body vibrates like I touched a live wire.
I look over at the guide. “All right, you heard the man. Let’s go find him some elephants.”
Declan and I have shared plenty of meals together over the years. While most have been strictly business, there have been a select few where we didn’t have a set agenda to discuss. None of those even come close to sitting across from him now without any kind of distraction. No cellphones. No notes to take. Nothing but one another’s company to keep us occupied.
But unlike past dinners, today screams romance.
It’s a honeymoon. What did you expect?
Maybe something a little more discreet? When they mentioned a dinner under the stars in their brochure, I thought they meant a little sandwich and wine out of a canteen. What they really meant was a full-blown dining experience with white linens and top-shelf champagne.
And flowers. And a bonfire. And enough tension between Declan and me to suffocate anyone within a ten-foot radius.
“So isn’t this lovely…” I offer a tight smile.
Declan pulls my chair out before situating himself in the seat across from me. Candlelight dances across his face, bringing out the sharp dips and contours.
My heart beats harder against my chest from the way he looks at me. Our guide breaks the silence as he pops a bottle of chilled champagne for us. For a second, I consider the idea of asking him to join us with our driver, but he leaves before I have a chance.
“So…” I pour a glass of champagne and chug half of it.
“Why are you nervous?”
I should have known while I studied Declan’s tells, he did the same. “I’m not nervous.”
“You’re chugging champagne like you won a Grand Prix.”
I grin. “I heard that’s the first step in becoming an F1 WAG.”
“WAG?” His puzzled expression is cute.
No. Not cute! Declan and the word cute belong together as much as water and electricity. Both equally deadly.
I take another long sip of my drink. “Wife and girlfriend.”
He flicks my wedding rings. “This Alatorre crush is spiraling.”
“The man has his own charity. One that gives kids free prosthetics, for crying out loud. He is practically begging for the world to fall in love with him.”
“I’m aware.”
“You are?”
He shrugs. “I sponsor a few kids.”
I shoot him a look. “Donating to charity as a tax write-off doesn’t count as a sponsor.”
The tic in his jaw makes an appearance. “Good thing I don’t include it in the paperwork then. Wouldn’t want my donation to be null and void.” The bitterness in his voice makes me flinch.
Wait. Is he actually a willing sponsor? How is that possible? Declan has grumbled about every charity event we’ve attended over the years, and it took all my power to convince him to go every single time.
His hardened gaze switches from me to the stars above. A vein appears above his eye, and I’m hit with a wave of guilt so hard, breathing becomes difficult.
Shit. Here you are making assumptions about him when he is only trying to talk. I want to slap myself and go back in time if only to replace that look on his face.
“It was shitty of me to assume you were only doing it for a personal benefit.”
He sighs, not breaking contact with the sky. “I don’t give you a reason to think otherwise. It’s not like I’m out here winning any Noble Peace Prizes.”
That he is not. He sure didn’t earn his reputation as a heartless businessman for nothing. People think the CEO has all the power, but the man behind the spreadsheets calls the shots. Because if it doesn’t make the Kanes any money, then it doesn’t serve a purpose, which means it’s cut from the program.
Welcome to the Kane Company where employee wages are as dismal as company morale.
But still, my whole chest aches for him because obviously I have a thing for misunderstood billionaires. “It was stupid of me to say. I’m sorry.”
“You know how I feel about apologies.”
“Unless they’re blood sacrifices made in your honor, don’t bother.”
The corners of his lips lift. Got him. My smile widens, which only makes his disappear before it had a chance to form into something devastating.
“What made you want to become a sponsor?” My question is innocent. An olive branch of sorts. It might be a selfish question, but I don’t want to stop the conversation. This is a side of Declan I know nothing about, and I won’t forgive myself if he closes back up again because of my stupid assumption.
His gaze slowly makes its way back to me. “I thought Santiago’s comeback story was admirable.”
I smile, grateful he offered more information. “See! Even you can’t resist him! Face it. That man can wrap anyone around his finger, including you.”
The corners of his lips rise. “He might have been the reason I donated in the first place, but I continued because of the kids.”
“Kids?”
He pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “Here.”
I grab onto his phone like a national treasure. The first photo makes my jaw drop. It’s one of a red-headed child flipping off the person taking the photo with one metal finger. “Cute.”
“That’s Freddy.”
He knows them by name. My heart threatens to burst inside of my chest.
“May I?” I want to keep swiping through his photos and learn more about the man who hides himself away from the world.
I want to know everything.
He nods. I swipe through a set of photos featuring three other kids. Each of them have different prosthetics, with one child requiring four.
I recognize the location of one photo instantly.
“You all went to Dreamland?”
“They did.”
Huh. “Where were you?”
“Working.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“Does it matter?”
Yes! I want to yell, but my throat dries up and I lose all capacity to speak. The tightness in my chest intensifies, having everything to do with how he sent the kids to Dreamland together without him despite him wanting to be there.
I don’t know why it makes me sad but it does. Maybe it’s because Declan has his eyes set on a position he thinks will be the answer to everything, all while missing out on what life has to offer. And frankly, that’s no way to live.
For someone hell-bent on succeeding at everything, he truly fails at life. I want to help him realize that there is so much more to everything than merely existing. That if he spends any more years skipping out on what is truly important, he might regret it later. No. He will regret it. I can guarantee it because there will always be some new goal he thinks will fill that gaping hole in his chest. All of them will fall short. It’s a vicious cycle driven by one sad fact: he is looking for happiness in all the wrong places.
I spot all the signs I’ve become personally familiar with.
Then what are you going to do about it?
