Page 212 of Bad Attitude
A pocket full of diamonds.
Declan.
Getting drugged and kidnapped. By Declan.
Tied up and… By Declan.
That memory makes me shiver, despite the heat of the water.
My life has been a little more exciting than I wanted.
Tomorrow, I’ll head into town. Drop those little velvet bags and the damn box off with Kurt. He can give Declan’s share to him, if he cares that much. I don’t need a fuckingdowry, I need a holiday. Somewhere a long,longway from here.
Somewhere with no men.
I order some takeout, eating it in front of the TV, watching a movie without seeing any of it.
Is Kurt right? Do I love Declan Hale?Maddox?
Goddammit, I can’t even get his name right in my head.
And that’s the problem, right there: whoever he is and the man I was developing feelings for are two very different people. I don’t love DeclanHalebecause he doesn’t exist.
That doesn’t feel right even when I just think it.
Maybe it’s more Idolove Declan Hale, and he doesn’t exist.
Damn it.
Idolove him.
For the first time in my life, I’ve fallen in love. Not infatuation, misty-eyed foolishness because a guy rolls up on a decent bike, nor a mistake that went off with a friend of mine, but reallove.
With someone who isn’t real.
So therefore it doesn’t count, right?
Yeah, that tracks. GenesisfuckingGreer and her amazing ability to totally pick the worst possible choice from the available options.
He’s a backstabbing, betraying, lyingbastard. Love him? Maybe, yeah. But not as much as Ihatehim.
It’s not like you’re flawless.
The thought isn’t welcome. Not one little bit.
Yes, I followed him to Thousand Oaks. Yes, I lied to him too. I could’ve told him I’d known all this time.
Yes, I turned up with a goddamn gun to hissister’shouse—why did I take that gun? With achildthere! I knew she could’ve been there, I just wasn’tthinking.
I hate myself right now. Declan’s ingood company. I hate usboth.
Angrily shutting off the shower, I wrap myself in a towel, throwing myself onto my bed, cursing his name and my life.
It’s late afternoon when the phone Tasha gave me rings. I’m in the kitchen, the phone’s on the coffee table by the sofa. I stare at it, knowing it’s Declan. That he somehow got my number.
It takes me too long to reach it, but when I do, it’s not him calling at all. It’s her number, the only one stored on there.
I let out a sigh of relief—disappointment?—and answer.
