Hush (Black Lotus #3) Read online

  Declan never lets go of my hand. It’s a simple gesture that reassures I’m safe with him throughout the trip.

  “Take her over London,” Declan calls out to the pilot who has the cockpit open on his private plane.

  The plane’s wing dips down as we turn, and Declan kisses me. It’s love and avidity, devotion and prurience as he takes ownership of my mouth, forcing me to breathe the air from his lungs. If Lachlan weren’t on this plane with us, I’m sure Declan’s cock would be buried inside my body right now.

  He eventually relents, pulling back, leaving me breathless.

  “Look,” he says, pointing out my window.

  I look down and smile when I see London lit up in the night’s darkness, and it’s magical. We fly over the River Thames where the Tower Bridge glows brightly above the water. Declan points out the major landmarks as we pass them, and I drink in every word he says. Parliament, Big Ben, and the London Eye are behind us in a blink of a moment as we prepare to land at Biggin Hill Airport.

  Once landed, it’s another hour drive into Knightsbridge, London. We pass designer store fronts and swanky restaurants that line the brightly lit streets. Everything about this area screams luxury.

  “We’re here,” Declan tells me when Lachlan pulls the car into an underground parking garage that’s heavily secured. “You doing okay?”

  “Mmm hmm. Just a little tired.”

  Lachlan finds our designated parking spot and turns the car off. We make our way through the garage, and Declan wasn’t lying when he told me how private this place is. I watch as Declan approaches a sleek black box mounted on the wall. He leans his face in, placing his eyes up to the lenses and hits the silver button. A few seconds later, the door clicks and he’s able to open it.

  “What was that?” I question.

  “Iris scanner,” he tells me. “It’s the only way to get through the first set of doors. We’ll get you into the system tomorrow.”

  I follow him next through the fingerprint sensor that opens another door, and the last door is secured by a key card. Three barriers of security, and we’re finally inside the building.

  He takes my hand, and with a sexy smile, says, “Welcome home.”

  “It’s practically a fortress.”

  “Practically,” he repeats before stopping at the concierge to drop off the keys to the car and instructing the delivery of all our luggage.

  Lachlan stays behind in the lobby as we step onto the elevator. It’s one thing for me to be Mrs. Vanderwal, living in the penthouse of The Legacy, but this is on a totally different scale. When Declan told me we’d be living here, I did my research. I knew I’d be living among the world’s elite: Ukrainian business moguls, Qatar’s former Prime Minister, Russian real estate magnates, among others. We may not be living in the penthouse, but the seventh floor is as intimidating as any penthouse in the United States.

  It’s a simultaneous finger scan and key card scan to unlock the door.

  “After you,” Declan says as he motions for me to enter.

  I walk through the grand foyer into the impressive living room. Everything is razor sleek lines, clean and simple. Intricate raindrop crystal chandeliers cascade their soft glow over the crisp white walls and white furniture, creating a warmth to the otherwise stark color. The rich mocha woodwork is a pleasant contrast to the white, warming the space even more. It’s contemporary design at its most opulent.

  “What do you think?”

  Turning my head to look over my shoulder at Declan who’s still standing in the foyer, I respond with phony condescension, “A bit much, isn’t it, McKinnon?”

  “You’re displeased?”

  “It’ll do,” I tease with an ever-so-slight grin, and he laughs, saying, “Well, it’s all yours. Go ahead, darling. Explore.”

  I look around, opening every door and peeking in every room. The kitchen is outfitted in commercial grade appliances, and the bathrooms are as lavish as those you’d find in upscale spas. Every perimeter is lined with floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows that overlook Knightsbridge. There’s an office upstairs that’s clearly been furnished by Declan because it’s filled with a rich chesterfield couch and chairs, the same as his office in Chicago and his library in Scotland. And both bedrooms, one on each wing of the second floor, have en suites and large, plush beds that stand taller than your average.

  “This one is ours,” Declan whispers from behind my ear as I stand in one of the bedrooms.

  His lips press against my pulse point, sending shivers up my arms.

  “It’s perfect.”

  We stand in front of the window, looking down on the lights of the city, and I cannot believe I’m here—in London—with a man who knows my truth and loves me regardless.

  “I read an article about this building the other day. They said it was soulless and devoid of life. I know it was referring to the secrecy of its occupants and everything else, but if they only knew what was behind this bulletproof glass.”

  “And what’s that?” he questions, and when I turn around in his arms and look up at him, I respond, “Life.”

  His leans down, kisses my forehead, and I speak softly to him. “I’ve never felt so alive as I do with you. Right here, right now. I never thought this was possible, to feel the way I do.”

  “I never wanted this with anyone else. Even in my darkest days without you, even when I thought I couldn’t hate you more, I still wanted you.”

  Before he can get the chance to kiss me, the ring of the doorbell sounds.

  “Bawbags,” he fumes in irritation at the interruption, and I can’t help but laugh at his Scottish curse.

  It really is an ugly language, but the accent is beyond sexy.

  I follow him downstairs to the living room, and when Lachlan walks in with two employees with our luggage, I beam with excitement. “Have you seen this place?”

  He doesn’t respond to me, but instead approaches Declan, asking, “May I?” as I watch in curiosity.

  “She’s all yours,” Declan tells him. “She’s about as excited as a lass at her first tea party.”

  Lachlan laughs, walking straight towards me, and I can’t help my own laughter at his demeanor. He grabs me, picking me up as if I were a little girl and gives me a joyous embrace.

  “This smile you wear makes dealing with McKinnon’s shit-stain moods worth my while.”

  We laugh as he sets me down, and I’m so thankful for his loyalty to Declan and the friendship he’s given me. He’s twenty years my elder, and I find comfort in that. As if I can look to him for guidance in a way I can’t with Declan. In a way a child might look to a parent. He gives me that feeling, and it’s settling.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what, love?”

  “Opening my car door the night I first met you.”

  “Oh yes, our first date,” he animates in a shameless attempt to taunt Declan, and Declan doesn’t miss a beat when he responds, “Fuck off, Lachlan, and you can get your hands off her now. You got your hug, you’re done.”

  His words are harsh, but they’re in jest. These boys go way back to their days at Saint Andrew’s, so it’s no surprise they fight like brothers, despite their age gap.

  “Well, then, if all is in place here, I guess I’ll head to my hotel.”

  “Lachlan, wait.”

  He takes a step closer to me, and I ask, “Have you heard anything about my dad? Good or bad? Has anyone called you?”

  “You’ve been with me all day,” he says, but no matter how content I feel, there’s still unsettling anxiety when it comes to my dad.

  “I know, I just . . .”

  “I promise you I’m doing everything I can, love. We’ll find him for you.”

  I nod as I feel the weight of the unknown swell in my chest, and Declan immediately senses it. He quickly dismisses Lachlan when I wander over to the windows and stare out.

  “This is a good day,” he tells me when he moves to stand next to me along the window.

/>   “What if he’s down there, right under my nose, among all those people?”

  “Then he won’t be too hard to find.”

  My eyes skitter over the men and women walking along the sidewalks, enjoying their night, when Declan pulls me away.

  “I’m doing everything I can. We have several people at this point that are trying to find him. The manifest is only one angle of the many we are working on. But you heard Lachlan,” he stresses. “He’ll call us with any updates.”

  “I know, I’m just—”

  “On edge,” he interrupts, finishing my thought, and he’s right.

  I want answers, and these past few days of waiting are eating me alive.

  “Not tonight. I want to see that smile again.”

  “You act like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me smile.”

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen you truly smile from your soul. You—Elizabeth. You wear it differently than the woman I knew in Chicago, and I want to see it again,” he says and then picks me up, hoisting me over his shoulder.

  “Declan!” I squeal out in playfulness. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to get you naked, tie you up, and then order myself dinner,” he teases.

  “You’re such a romantic asshole.”

  MY FIRST MORNING here at One Hyde Place was a busy one. No time for lounging in bed until the afternoon. Declan was up early yelling on the phone at a hacker he hired to find out more information on my dad. After that call ended, I sat in his office with him as he proceeded to make more calls about my father, growing more and more impatient as his stress amplified. He’s been putting himself under so much pressure to find him, but I didn’t want him to get any more worked up than he already was, so I convinced him to step away for a while and take a shower with me to calm him down.

  After we were dressed, I met with the head of security downstairs to input all my information, along with my iris and fingerprint scans. Declan then introduced me to a few of the employees that I would be seeing on a daily basis before we returned to the apartment. It wasn’t but a few minutes later that the woman who works for the butler service arrived with groceries we requested earlier in the morning.

  And now I sit in the living room, reading “A Tourist’s Guide to London” that I asked Lachlan to bring over from his hotel. He dropped it off earlier along with a new cell phone that Declan insisted on me having instead of the cheap disposable one I was using since I left Nina’s phone back in the States. Lachlan input his number along with all of Declan’s before heading back out to run a few errands for us. But it’s now inching closer to one o’clock, and I’m growing hungry.

  I rifle through the fridge, looking for something easy, and decide on a simple grilled cheese. It’s practically all I know how to cook, but it’s comforting and reminds me of my brother.

  “Is the fire extinguisher handy?” Declan jokes when he walks into the room.

  I flip the sandwich with the spatula and then flip him the middle finger.

  “What a lovely gesture. If we’re done with the pleasantries, I’d like to make a request.”

  Turning the burner off, I slide my grilled cheese onto a plate and walk over to the island bar to sit next to Declan. He hands over an invitation engraved on heavy linen paper with an embossed gold seal at the top.

  “What’s the Caledonian Club?” I ask, setting the invitation down on the cold soapstone countertop.

  “A private Members’ Club I’ve been associated with my whole life. Both my father and grandfather were members.”

  “Is this one of those male-only chauvinist clubs where you all stand around, smoke cigars, and compete with each other to prove who has the biggest dick?” I badger and then take a bite of my food.

  “Something like that, but luckily for you, they started to allow women to accompany members at the social events a few years ago.”

  “How progressive of them.”

  “Yes, well, if you’re done being stabby, I’ve RSVP’d our pleasured acceptance,” he informs me with an appeasing smirk.

  “When is it?”

  “This evening.”

  “Tonight?” I blurt in surprise. “Declan, I don’t have anything to wear. All my formal attire is back in Chicago.”

  “Harrods is right across the street,” he tells me. “Lachlan can take you.”

  I drop my sandwich onto the plate, huffing in mild irritation. “Lachlan? Really? So, I’m not allowed to walk across the street by myself, something a child is capable of doing?”

  “I thought I made my concerns clear before we came.”

  “You did, but I didn’t think he’d be at my side at all times.”

  He cups my cheek as he stands, saying, “Must you fight me on everything?”

  “Fine,” I exhaust. “I’ll see it your way this time, but you know he’s going to be pissed at you when he finds out you’re forcing him to do this particular errand.”

  “That old man is always pissed at me. I can handle him.”

  I laugh under my breath, enjoying the lightness of our exchange, and then ask, “What’s the attire?”

  “Black tie.” He then gives me a kiss and starts heading back to his office when he calls out over his shoulder, “I’ll call for Lachlan.”

  “Where is he taking me again?”

  “Harrods,” he shouts from his office.

  I grab my tourist book, flip to the shopping section, and read while I finish my lunch. I don’t have to wait long for Lachlan to arrive.

  He’s slightly distracted—quiet—as the day moves forward, but I don’t push him to talk. Instead, I gather gowns to try on. I’m not sure what Declan’s preferences are the way I knew Bennett’s. I had more time to learn about Bennett, to study him. So I spend a good amount of time pulling gowns, second-guessing, and shoving them back on the rack.

  Thank God for patient sales associates.

  Lachlan sits outside the fitting room as I try on the various dresses. One by one, until I finally make my choice when I slip on the Givenchy in kombu green. I decide to take a step out and show Lachlan, but when I do, he’s not there. I walk past the empty chair and then hear his hushed voice.

  Peeking around the corner, I spot him a few racks down on his cell and quickly retreat when I see him look my way. I strain to hear what he’s saying, hoping that it has something to do with my dad, but when I hear his harsh tone barking, “Calm down, Camilla,” under his breath, my mind begins to spin.

  Camilla?

  I step back into the fitting room and wonder why that name sounds so familiar. I trace back and it finally clicks.

  Cal’s girlfriend.

  I met her a few months ago when I accompanied Bennett on a trip to New York City. It was the night Declan showed up unexpectedly at his father’s house. But why the hell is Lachlan talking to her? Whatever the reason, he clearly doesn’t want me to know. Declan would have his ass if he knew Lachlan left me alone, so whatever he’s talking to her about must outweigh the risk.

  After I make my purchases, he walks me back home and leaves after I’m safely inside the building.

  “How’d it go?” Declan asks when I enter the apartment, and I hold up the garment bag, saying, “I found a dress.”

  “Good,” he says, and my unease intensifies with the knowledge that Lachlan, a man that Declan highly trusts, is corresponding with his father’s girlfriend. “Everything okay? You look worried.”

  I drape the gown over the back of the couch and approach Declan.

  “I heard something strange today, and it has me feeling unnerved,” I tell him.

  “What happened?” he questions with concern.

  “It could be nothing, but did you know that Lachlan knows your father’s girlfriend?”

  “Camilla?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I overheard him on the phone with her. He sounded mad or maybe annoyed.”

  “What did you hear him say?”
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br />   “Nothing really, he just snapped at her to calm down, and when I heard him use her name, I went back into the fitting room. Something about the tone he used with her and the fact that he’d been distant the whole time I was shopping made me apprehensive.”

  I see the unpleasant look on his face and ask, “What is it?”

  “When we were scrambling to find you, I answered his phone when he wasn’t in the room. It was her and she called him baby. When she realized it was me on the line, she quickly ended the call.”

  “Did you ask Lachlan what was going on?”

  “He dismissed it as them being old friends. Honestly my mind was completely fucked at the time.”

  “Maybe it’s nothing,” I tell him.

  “Maybe, but I’ll address it with him before I leave you alone with him again.”

  “Declan . . .”

  “Don’t contest me. I’m not willing to risk anything when it comes to you.”

  “You can’t control the world.”

  “No, but I control you and what happens to you,” he tells me as he takes my hand and places it on the side of his neck. “Do you feel that?”

  I nod as his pulse beats hard into my palm. It’s an exorbitant sign of anxiety that he hides well, but it’s clearly at war with him on the inside.

  “That’s you,” he says. “You’re my pulse. You’re the reason it beats and keeps me alive, so don’t defy me when it comes to protecting you, because I refuse to be reckless with my quintessence.”

  He’s strident with his words. I know his desire for ultimate control; he’s been that way since the day I met him, and he’s explained why he is the way he is. Witnessing the murder of his mother has burdened him into adulthood and has shaped him into the man he is today. His demanding ways with me might be harsh for others, but they stem from a loving place.

  “I’m sorry. Truth is, you’re the first person who’s ever gone to the lengths you do to make sure I’m taken care of. I know I give you a hard time, but the rule you have on me feels good.”