Jae

It’s been a month since you’d slept with Declan, after filming you parted ways, as you had another acting job in the North of Ireland. You let him know what day you were finished, as after all you agreed to work for him whilst in a compromising position.

The last thirty days were torture for him, he craved you, the feeling of your body, the fragile curls in your hair, the desperation in your eyes. All of it he needed.

He hadn’t slept with Maud at all, didn’t even touch himself, he was saving it for you, so he could really feel it. He hadn’t told Maud this however. He felt guilty to begin with but that’s long been discarded, if she wants to sleep with Tony Baddingham, she can. It won’t affect what Declan decided to do in his spare time.

He was applying cologne to his neck and chest when he heard the front door knock three times. He didn’t have time to put a shirt on and ran down the stairs in his unbuckled trousers. Opening the door, he was glad he was barely clothed.

“What is with you and always being early?” His grin was that of a man head over heels. You were surrounded by suitcases, and a very sleepy Patrick O’Hara, who picked you up from the airport, because conveniently, he was home from Paris.

“Hello!” You reach in the door and embrace him in a hug. Rather casual. You’re still colleagues at the end of the day. And nobody from the set knows you fucked eachother.

“Pat, help lift these bags will ya?” Declan called over to Patrick who was closing the boot.

“Yeah…” he rolled his eyes.

Declan led you upstairs, your room was beautiful, with red bed sheets, and red curtains. It was close to his bedroom. In fact, it was next door. How closer could you get? “I’ll brief what you’ll be doing for Venturer, and for me.” He winked playfully, much more himself when he was at home. He finally slipped a turtleneck on and helped unload your luggage, hanging them up in the wardrobe parallel to the bed. It had a beautiful floor length mirror built into it.

“So, how did you like the show?” It was aired on BBC two night ago, Declan hasn’t re-winded a show so much in all his life, your body was magnificent on the screen, he still can’t believe he got to explore it first hand.

“It was very well produced, you looked good on the horse.” Her accent coarse as she spoke the sentence into existence. The tension was still so thick, they weren’t dedicated to one another, at the end of the day, he’s still married. And his wife doesn’t know.

—————

It took an hour to fully unpack, afterwards Declan led you to his office, you sat beside on another, as he put his glasses on and read you the paperwork for your employee contract.

“Assistant?” You questioned.

“Yes, but not exactly. Since you’re living here you’ll be helping me mostly with production ideas and scouting, and of course your beautiful acting.” He was a charmer, to say the least. The flirting a constant since you’ve arrived. “You’ll help Rupert and Fred with a few details, but you’ll mostly run things by me and vice versa.” His smile assured you, and you signed it, officially a venturer employee.

“Perfect!” He beamed, straightening the pages and putting them into a folder and sliding it into the drawer. He made his way towards a corkboard, pointing to multiple television plans and the date for the bid of the franchise. You had a LOT to learn.

“I’m not going to bombard you with all of this information right now, I’ll dose it in stages.” He slipped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, eyeing you in your autumnal dress. “Maud doesn’t know you’ll be here.”

Your stomach dropped. Is he serious? He had a month to break the news. “Declan!” You put your head in your hands. “You do realise that’s going to cause a lot of problems?”

“I’m certain of it!” He winked, he was actually craving it to happen, her to scream at him, blow up in his face. He couldn’t wait.

“Your funeral.” You stood and explored the room, peering out the large window, at the view of the Cotswolds. “That’s where Rupert and Cameron live, just up there past that tree.” He is behind you, pointing in the direction he wants you to look. You’re flustered. It’s too early to be feeling like this. Why can’t you just act natural around the man.

“You’ll like it here.” He whispers.

———

Dinner time. You’d met Taggie and Caitlin, they were very welcoming and Caitlin recognised you from the telly for a teen show you acted in, very briefly, the girl had a fabulous memory. That gave you extra brownie points for the sisters. Patrick sat beside you at dinner, he liked having a friend here, the time on set with you he thoroughly enjoyed. It was going well, until Maud came home. Bursting through the door, “Who’s that?”

“A famous actress.” Caitlin chimed.

“She’s daddy’s new assistant.” Taggie spoke

“She did the Yeats thing with us in Sligo” Patrick progressed.

“She’s moving in.” Declan finalised.

“Nice to meet you, Maud, I’ve heard so much about you, I’m a big fan.” You complimented. Declan told you to, she can be easily manipulated with flattery.

With the whirlwind of information, Maud was more focused on the actress part. “You act?” She felt inferior now that someone else is here to steal her spotlight. “What plays have you done?”

“I am a television actor.” You correct her. That leaves a scoff from her mouth. “Telly? That’s not acting.”

Declan clenches his fist from under the table and releases his tense jaw to speak. “She played Maud in my BBC documentary.” He raised his brows to get his wife to be welcoming.

“Ah, wonderful. You know, I played her once, in fact I do everyday.” Maud cackled to no amusement but her own.

Caitlin rolled her eyes.

Dinner went well, you thought. That was until you and Taggie were done with the dishes that you heard commotion from upstairs. “Oh don’t mind that, mummy and daddy often do that. It’ll resolve in a minute or two.” She was so polite.

You were concerned. This wasn’t what you wanted, you feel like you’re intruding massively. Imposing on a family already struggling.

“Dinner was marvellous Taggie. You have a gift.” You brush your hand on her arm in gratitude.

You make your way upstairs slowly, entering your room to hear what’s happening.

“Are you serious?” Maud screams.

“You’re being fucking horrid!” Declan screams louder. “She lives in Ireland, it’s not exactly easy to get a whole new house here. This is until she gets on her feet.”

“It’s another person in my space, half your age might I add!” Maud bellows.

“YOU’RE NEVER FUCKING HOME!”

Your eyes widened, this was a divorce level argument and it could’ve been avoided if Declan had of fired you the second you walked on that mountain. He didn’t want you on that set to begin with. The yelling becomes inaudible, and then a door slams.

A low growl is heard, one that can only escape Declan’s mouth. You remain quiet, it’d be awkward if he knew you heard the fight.

Eventually Maud left the house and Patrick took the hint and brought his sisters on a drive, to give the household some air.

—————

By this stage you were in Declan’s office, scanning the corkboard. The door opens.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” He sighs, anger on his face.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Who told you that?” He’s annoyed.

“Me.”

“Come here.” He beckons you to the desk. You follow suit.

“Turn around.” He orders you. You do as he tells you. The air thick with anger and apprehension.

He bends you over the desk, you hear his belt buckle unhook. His rough hands grab the end of your dress, pulling it up to your ass, giving it a light smack. “Do you still feel like you shouldn’t be here?” He asks again.

“Yes.” You answer with the current emotions in your brain.

He smacks you again.

“Don’t upset me, princess.”

You huff out a moan at his demeanour, his hand reached between your thighs feeling you, how warm you are. Left hand grabbing a hold of your breast over the fabric of your dress.

“Strip.” His accent strong the more bothered he gets. In the time you’re bare, so is he. You look over your shoulder to see him in all his glory, stroking himself, he’s already hard, but filled with a deep fury.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He breathlessly compliments.

Before you know it, he’s thrusted inside of you, taking a minute to adjust to the size of him, he’s pumping you aggressively, you can’t help but scream in pleasure at the places he’s making you feel good.

“Now tell me.” He growls. “Should you be here?”

“Yes! I should be here!” His fingers curl into your mouth as he fucks you from behind. You suck on them mindlessly, and it causes his legs to shake.

“You’re all I need.” He mumbles.

Anybody driving into the property could see you through the window of the first floor. Declan welcomed it. You’re his, as far as he’s concerned.

He bites your shoulder as he reaches his climax, a warmth builds inside of you, dripping down your thigh. You’re breathless, still needed more.

He pulls out, immediately kneeling, his mouth latching onto your wet cunt, his tongue tasting every last drop, your nails gripping the edge of the desk as you thrust onto his face vigorously, edging close and closer.

“Fuck!” You scream as you come all over his mouth with ease. He’s so turned on at the taste he could have you all over again.

You kneel on the floor beside him and he pulls your mouth devilishly into a kiss, messy with his tongue tracing every inch of you, tongue flicking to your chin and jaw, he can’t get enough of you.

“Don’t you ever tell me something like that again.” His rough Hand cupping your cheek. You nod, putty in his hands.

“If it’s any help, I won the majority of the household over.” You cling to his shoulder, forehead resting.

He pats your head, knowing he’s worn you out. “Up you get, time for a shower.” He lifts you bridal style, clothes still discarded on the floor.

You enter the shower, and he soaks your hair, before lathering it with shampoo. “You did so well.” He complimented you, with ease.

“You were amazing, like something possessed you.” You were still shaken at the thought of how good it felt.

“Trust me, if Maud’s not knocked some sense into herself, there’ll be much more relief of anger.” His anger coming back a split second as he places a kiss on your neck, rinsing the shampoo from your hair.

His hands caressed your body, he strategically placed kisses wherever he saw fit. Before rinsing the soap.

“There we go, clean as a bar of soap.” He wraps you in a towel and you walk to your bedroom, laying on your bed, he draws curves on your shoulder.

——————-

Silence lingered for a moment.

“What happened?” He asked, his eyes staring into space ahead of him. Your face seems perplexed at the question, body going quite stiff.

“Your feistiness has vanished. Did you leave it in Ireland?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Your dominance.” Alluring to how confident you were with yourself when he’d laid eyes on you, it was enough to make him annoyed at your presence at just how good you were.

He had a point, you had finally met your match. The Priory. It had humbled you, made you see what mistakes you were making and arrogance can’t always save you.

“Darling, you’re magnificent.” The words escaping his tongue like a devil. Enticing enough for him to betray and lie to his family. You were that vexing, that much of a siren. Your chest heavy as your heart pounds in guilt.

“You still love her.” You try to convince him.

“I’ve been married twenty years, I do, love her.” He knocked himself back to earth. Yet the impurity wasn’t coming to the surface.

“I find now that I understand her.” Convicting.

“Seems everyone sleeps around, here.” You swallow, now feeling temporary and a future regret. Tried and tossed.

“I’ll not imprison you. If I’m not what you want, you can find another to warm your bed.” Sounding both convincing and antagonising, Declan didn’t know which he was trying to showcase. “You’re a big girl, you decide, if your gut is screaming at you to get out, I’ll not hold it against ya.” Sadness. Hopes crushed.

“I don’t think I want that. I’m not at all craving sex from just anybody.” It may work for others, but you prefer meaningful relationships. Although your fling with Declan was proving dangerous.

“Sweetheart.” He practically growled, rolling on top of you smoothly. Big hand atop your head, scanning you. “Don’t lie to me.” Oozing with a feelings he held close for years. Wanting her eyes to wander, only to force them back on his. Spend his entire relationship convincing you, convincing you that he’s the one you truly want.

“Are seriously giving me permission to fuck another man?” You perked your brows, “You’re a cuck then, that’s it?” Laughing a little to yourself. His tender look didn’t change, in fact his hand ran atop your head, feeling consumed by his entire body. He was seriously suggesting this happen, and quick. He wanted to feel you slip away, the jealous magnetic pull, the sexual desire, the sudden rush, he craved it.

“Do what you wish.” Open ended, so that if it did happen, it’d feel like your decision.

“It’ll keep the eyes off us.” Warding away suspicion from his wife, calculated, you weren’t at all shocked that he’d been stewing vulgar plans.

A smile ran across his face, “I’ll get to win you back all over again!” A kiss on your collarbone. “You’re a good actress, you can convince these men you tolerate them.” A bite on your collarbone, causing your breath to hitch.

“Okay, okay, fine.” Grabbing his hair, forcing him to look at you. “It can be anybody, or are some people off limits?”

“Just not Baddingham.” Practically whining a plea.

They landed in Ireland that morning, 8am, Declan was exhausted. Needing the hotel bed as soon as possible. Cameron insisted they scope the area quickly, get a feel for where they will be shooting the next day. As they trecked through open land of hills, mountains and fields, Declan was so certain with himself and the project he’s been dreaming of since college when he met his wife Maud. Ironically the same name of Yeats’ love.

It was rather windy outside, Patrick covering his curls with a scarf. Cameron effortlessly gorgeous even with the weather, approached Declan, calmly. “Hey, I made a decision and she’ll be on her way shortly.”

Declan’s forehead vein now prominent. “What’re you talking about? She?” Cameron smirks.

“Hi, sorry I’m early, I have a feeling the weather will plonk me to the floor if I had come any later.” There she was. Declan’s eyes darted to her, her thick Irish accent graced his ears, was that Dublin?

“Your Maud.” Cameron retorted, proud of herself for scouting such a beautiful woman.

“I don’t think so, we agreed upon it solely being me narrating and no actors!” His voice loud due to the winds volume. His dark hair flowing flawlessly.

He takes another glance at you, you’ve been swept away by Patrick, who is fascinated by you. Declan shakes his head, although his body is accepting the offer and not his head in this moment. Cameron is annoyed, “Just, get to know the girl. What harm is it gonna do?!” She’s eagerly trying to push it, as well as his patience with this already rushed and understaffed production. He wasn’t happy.

———————

Back at the hotel, you’re in the function room with a warmly lit fire, everyone is having a drink, and figuring out what the course of action for tomorrow’s shoot will be.

“You’re still okay for the nude scene tomorrow, yeah?” Cameron asks you directly, you nod and sip your drink, it didn’t bother you, especially because there were less than 10 people going to see you.

“What?” Declan interrupts. “I didn’t agree to that, are you forgetting it’s my show?” He glances at you, a little shocked you agreed to it. He’s more annoyed with Cameron because she won’t communicate anything with him. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to if you’re not comfortable.” He assured you, like the gentleman he is, it’s a vulnerable thing to do, especially for the entire united kingdom to see.

“I was briefed before my audition for Miss Cook. It’s okay.” Such a sweet reply, an honest one. But Declan can’t help but think you’ve been swindled in some way, shape or form.

“Right.” His eyebrows furrowed in gruffly anger, it’ll burn on the entire night. He’s can’t lie, however, your hair flowed just like described in the biography, the rosiness of your lips, your curled lashes.

Patrick was talking your ear off about literature and it was pissing Declan off, Patrick is too immature to be pining after every girl he sees.

Shelly was too busy chatting up the bartender into giving them free liquor shots. And she succeeded. The music played from the jukebox, and you each necked the drink. Bitter yet awakening. You blinked a few times to adjust your eyes to the script handed to you, whispering your lines to yourself, swaying to the music.

The alcohol was getting to Declan, mixed with his tiredness made him much worse, his legs were spread as he was leant over reading the script, his hand tracing the word yet to be read on the page. Glancing at you everytime you muttered your lines, mixed with whispering the lyrics to the song playing. Had you even acted before? You looked awful amateur if so. It annoyed him with great distain, but he couldn’t deny the sensation you had given him when the wind blew your hair in perfect harmony on that mountain, even how you broke the ice, confident in your body, no fear.

Maybe it’s the struggles of his own wife Maud, the constant cheating, the lies, maybe it was getting to him after all this time. He liked the thrill of pleasing her when other men didn’t. Maybe the memories of her acting is bleeding into you acting like a different Maud. It’s too much.

Fuck, did you read those lines perfectly. He had to stand up. He can’t take the banging in his head. He’s getting a whiskey.

He left his chair so suddenly you couldn’t help but look up, he was even more handsome in real life. Like a god. Patrick was nice but he just seemed like an immature copy of his father, it didn’t go well with you. Declan was much more grounded, flawed, experienced.

You follow him to the bar, also plagued with rushing thoughts, and you were overheating.

“A whiskey please.” You both ask in unison. Then look at one another.

“Why’re you drinking that stuff?” Declan asks like a scolding father.

“Nerves.” He looks you up and down when you mention nerves.

“Bollocks.” He hands the bartender cash and grabs both your glasses, heading to a two seated bar-top, with two stools. You take a seat, he hands you your glass. “I can’t lie, I’m angry you’ve been cast. I wanted her role to be anonymous, like an entity rather than real. She as a person is a mystery of sexual frustration and magnificence.”

“To you?” Intently listening you couldn’t help but ask. His expression is confused, as if you’d dare ask him that.

“Come again?”

“I mean, is that how you view her, a supernatural harness?” He’s a tough nut to crack, so much hiding under the surface. It’s good method acting to get to know the lady you’re playing from the narrators perspective.

He takes a gulp of his drink, God, you’re on thin ice. Your eyes mist over his entire presence as if too strong to see clearly.

“If you distain me being here and filling Maud’s shoes, I can go.”

He nearly chokes. “Excuse me?”

“If you don’t want me in the show I don’t need to be. I can use my experience in other ways on set.”

“You’re fine with what you’re doing. You’re perfect for it, I just didn’t think I’d like that is all.” His nostrils flaring as he betrays himself once again. “It’s just hard to picture.”

“Picture?” As you sit and he stands, he creates a rather daunting dynamic conversation, like you’re being lectured for doing something wrong.

“A different body-“ he stops himself before he can say it. Sighing loudly, shaping into a groan.

“You’ll do your best. Let’s go back to the group.” He concludes your little chat, leaving you hanging onto what more he could’ve said.

Turning to face your table, they’re all dancing on the floor now, neglecting the seats they were in a second ago. Shelly runs to Declan, begging him to dance. Cameron grabs hold of your hand and you move your body as your tipsy brain takes over.

Declan is feeling the music, fuck it, his wife is working with Tony Baddingham, she’s chosen her side for now, he has nothing now to lose in regards to love. His own wife doesn’t even want monogamy. Who is he to respect a one sided marriage?

His eyes never leave you. He’s so drawn to the acting. Playing a part. But who were you really?

You laugh as Cameron tries to spin you to the climax of the song, and you badly sing the lyrics. Just then Patrick lifts you in the air, and you both begin shrieking, erupting in fits of enjoyment. Declan begins to explore his twisted mind, derails into wanting to hear that shriek in bed. Desperate for it, his trousers begging to be discarded tonight, he has to get you alone.

Fuck it, if everyone is dancing with one another, nobody will suspect if he dances with you. You allow him to. He’s close to you, body pressed against yours. You can feel him. Eyes widening in a new-found awakening.

Tomorrow morning you’d be on set, stripping from a white dress, walking into a lake. Declan can’t stop thinking of it, he wants a sneak peek now, he’s aching for it.

Everybody was plastered, you don’t care whether you film it or not, this experience is exciting enough on its own.

———

It’s become late, the bartender did his last call 30 minutes ago and was practically sweeping you out of the function room and into the bedroom quarters. You giggle, at the sheer absurdity of being brushed out by a broom. Declan holds you up as you almost fold over. “Easy tiger.” He smirks, wanting to ravish you.

“Everyone knows where their rooms are? Perfect, good.” Cameron walks ahead and enters her bed for the night. You and Declan seem to be the last ones standing, in the quiet hallway, unknowing if you should part.

“It’s cold.” Declan mutters. “Stay with me?”

You breathlessly laugh.

His vision jaded, “I think my rooms at the end of the hall.” He intertwined his hand with yours and led you to room 407. Your heart thumped inside your chest, eager yet nervous to be with him.

“You alright, darlin’?” He asked with entire want to know the answer and you nod. “Yes.”

He unlocks the door and walks you into the room. Backing you up to the large bedpost at the end of the bed. “You’ve no idea how fucking gorgeous you are.” His voice rumbled with desire, eager to have you all alone.

“You’re not so bad.” You chime removing the straps from your dress slowly, revealing to him, your lace bra, he finds it hard to keep still at the more he sees of you.

“Now, since I didn’t see your audition, I’m going to need one from you now.” His voice oozing with arousal, he’s so chuffed with himself.

“You’re still okay with a nude scene?” He repeated Cameron’s question in a certain tone, as he one-handedly took off your bra, causing you to gasp at the cold air touching your breasts.

“Fuck.” He can’t help himself, he palms himself just to release some of the pressure he’s feeling. He releases his belt, and with his right hand he scoops you up and puts you on the bed.

He feels like he’s in college again. A stunning actress beneath his body, it makes his head woozy, he wants to love you, deeply. Tenderly.

“Are you okay with this, dear?” He’s on top of you, making you feel protected.

“I’m more than okay with it.” Your wet lips open slightly, still shocked this is actually happening.

His hand reaches up your dress skirt, slowly pulling down your underwear. Your dress bunched up over your lower back and stomach, merely for decoration at this point. His fingertips begin tracing your calves, soaking in your beauty, you’re the perfect cast.

He quickly strips, exposing his dark haired body, its magnificent, even in the dim light of the room, his silhouette looming over you, unbeknownst of his next move.

He crouches down, eyes level with your opening, tasting you, sending a shock through tour body, unable to control the noises leaving your lips. You can feel Declan’s mouth contort into a smile as you freely sound pleased.

He grabs his cock, needing the revel in this moment, one risk be never expected to take. It’s thrilling, having a secret affair, he feels something unlock inside of his brain, one he’s suppressed for a long time.

Tongue swirling with every flick, a ripple of pleasure consumes the both of you.

“So far, I’m liking what I see, you’re a good performer.” He growls, continuing to play the role. He hooks his arm over your lower back, bringing you flesh against his chest, you’re already breathless, eager for him, wanting to release the built up tension.

He slowly places himself inside you, holding you steadily and tightly, making you feel secure, the feeling of his chest against yours sending shivers down your spine.

You both exhale once he’s entered you, shaky hands clinging to the back of his dark curls. Both his hands stuck to your hips, as he lifts you up and down, right where he wants you. He isn’t afraid to be vocal, his lips directly to your right ear, the sensation flowing through your entire being.

Rocking your hips you’re eager to please him, it’s turning you on so bad, how much he’s enjoying fucking you.

“God, you’re so good.” He groans helplessly picking up his pace, trying to feel every spark significantly.

Your moans send him further, he’s hitting all the right spots, “Fuck, Declan!” He grabs your hair, yanking your head back to kiss you harshly, not slowing down. He has to have you.

“I want you to come back to the Cotswolds with me after this. I want you to work for me. Do you understand?” All you can do is nod, he has moved you flush against the mattress, both hands caressing your face as he pounds into you.

It doesn’t take him long to reach his climax, but he doesn’t stop until you do too, thumb rubbing your clit, until your experience overwhelms you as much as it did him.

He collapses beside you, not without lifting you onto his chest, caressing your sweat soaked hair. “Good girl. Thank you.” He breaths loudly, ravished by his unlocked love for the affair plague.

It was September, a season of new beginnings, and also where old ghosts linger. You’d recently dropped out of the most prestigious private university for stuck up prats. Realising that there’s far more to life than a degree you don’t want to succeed in. Truly, you loved nothing more than crafts, always making pictures for your father growing up, helping the maids with the garden. You’d decided to make a business out of it.

‘Dolly’s’ the name of your new business, a haven of relaxation, and serenity, and across the road from Bas Baddingham’s cocktail bar… Nevertheless, you opened in less than two hours!

Sprinting down the side of the street, you bumped into grannies, school kids and one angry motorcyclist. Trying desperately to get to the grocery shop to buy the forsaken biscuits that didn’t come in your delivery. After all, what is afternoon tea without damn biscuits. Your heels clipped the ground and your feet almost escaped them, until you were caught by Freddie Jones.

“Jesus Darling, I didn’t know the Olympic tryouts were happening today!” His hands holding both arms in place, halting you in your sprint. Breathless you look at your surroundings, Freddie, with his daughter Sharon by his side, smiling brightly at you. “We was just ‘bout to come round, and help you open up shop. Sharon can’t wait to get a nice bouquet for her room.” Catching your breath now, you are relieved, especially for familiar faces and support.

“Thank you guys, but I forgot the bloody biscuits, like an idiot.” Fixing your velvet skirt, and white blouse, Freddie walks you into the grocery shop with a laugh. “I’ll head to your shop, and make sure it’s as perfect as you’ve left it, dear, you get your treats.” Freddie squeezed your hand, sensing your nerves.

Although his bond with your father has somewhat minimised, he still showed up for you. You hand him the key and watch him go.

Scanning aisle to aisle, you seemed to fill your basket with too much crap. Taggie was making the sandwiches and pastries for today, which took the load of you, that was one less thing to worry about, having spent the last 3 nights individually making personalised and unique bouquets, so no one customer left with the same thing.

The grocery shop was busy as people were getting ready for work, nearing nine in the morning. The queue for the check outs was very long, and you were growing more anxious, needing to make it on time.

Standing there, you heard middle aged women gasp infront of you, your eyes staring at the floor in a state of anxiety in your own bubble. You hear them scuffle and turn to face you, giggling to themselves.

That’s until you hear a man clearing his throat beside you, in the narrow checkout lane. Gazing up, you see a very familiar face, that explains the women gushing. Declan. You feel your own cheeks fluster at the shocking sight of him.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” He softly steals your basket and holds it in his own hands. Your eyes seemingly confused at what he was doing here, and why he was kidnapping your sweets. “Freddie sent me down here, I was knocking your cafe’s door like a madman, wondering where you were.” He pauses. “Until he told me about your debacle with the delivery guy.” You gaze at the ground once more and huff a small laugh.

You were next in the queue, the ladies before you, lingering at the front door awaiting an autograph. Before you can even get your purse out, Declan pays for the groceries. His car is parked outside the door, he opens the door for you, and sets the items in the backseat. Driving you to your place of work. The short car ride up the hill is quiet, except for the words he mutters before you both exit the vehicle. “You look wonderful.” A smile etches onto your face. He was always charming, but you figured that’s just who he is.

Entering, you smell the freshness of the Lillie’s and tulips, the mahogany decor making the cafe look like a fairytale. The displays of books you were going to sell, Lizzie Vereker’s books on their own special table. “Look at this place.” Declan muttered under his breath, a proud look on his face. “Your father must be proud.” You smile, and nod, lifting the afternoon tea racks from under the counter, displaying the biscuits on them, so they can be encased on the shelf.

“Speaking of the man, where is he?” Declan sounded accusatory in his tone, annoyed he’s not here helping you. He runs his fingers along the hand carved chairs. “He was taking Tabitha horse riding.” You smile innocently, it didn’t bother you.

His eyes made a home with your face, gazing solely at you. “When do you close, later?”

“4 o’clock.”

“I’ll take you home.” He is firm, walks around and stands behind the counter with you, the door to the kitchen is there also, he spots Freddie and Sharon wiping counters and preparing the porcelain tea cups. “I hope you are proud of yourself for creating something so wonderful. Taggie hasn’t shut up about it since you bought the place and began renovating.”

“Will you be my first customer?” You smile brightly, Declan has always been so supportive.

“Of course, I have to be there for my two girls.” Jokingly ruffling your hair, and immediately fixing it for you, so you won’t get prissy and complain to him.

“I’ll have to pick the chef up and bring her here, just wanted to see how things were looking first, I’ll be back before you know it.” He left, to go pick up your best friend Taggie.

—————

It was that time, when the final customer left, and the place was semi-messy. You’d made £3,000 just today alone, selling all your bouquets, Lizzies books sold within the first two hours and all of the sandwiches were a hit. It was wonderful. Taggie was quick with the dishes, so they were sanitized and ready for tomorrow, and you brushed the floor and mopped. A smile on your face. At your dream coming true.

At 5:30pm, you close up shop, and Taggie and Caitlin head to go see a movie, leaving just you for Declan to chauffeur. “Sorry I took a little longer, thank you again for taking me home.” The radio was playing at a slightly louder volume than you’d expect him to have, “Don’t worry, I was caught at work a little longer myself, those Golden Gauntlet tapes disappearing were tickling my anger.”

“Shit, dad told me about that the other night. Seems there’s a mole on your hands.” You held a box in your lap, and opened it. “I saved you a scone and a slice of cake, if that helps any?” His eyes slight you, a smile on the side of his face. He nods. “It helps plenty, love, thanks.” You smile at his expression.

“Now, you’re just going home? Or do you want to come to mine for a little while, Caitlin and Tags shouldn’t be away all night. Be back in time for dinner.” You don’t mind the invitation, you can get started on some prep for tomorrow. “Sure, that sounds good.”

—————

You enter the familiar home, it’s eerily quiet however. “Where’s Maud?” You put the kettle on the stove and heat it up, making some coffee for the both of you. “Ah, probably caught late at four men went to fucking mow.” He takes out two plates, one for the raspberry scone and one for the Victoria sponge. He cuts both in half so you can each have a taste of both.

You’ve known Declan for a year now, since he moved to the Cotswolds. It’s been interesting. He’s like your friend, even though he’s your father’s colleague and pal. Declan also treats you exactly the same, not like his friend’s kid, but just as an actual person of trust. It seems you’re here for him more times than for Taggie. When your father would be off doing god knows what, you’d relax at the Priory, when Maud was away doing her shows in London, Declan would relax at your house. It was rather strange, if thought from an outside perspective, but with a personal lens it was rather okay.

“Here, darling, you’ve been on your feet all day, let me make it. If you died tomorrow you’d still find time to wake up and make yourself useful.” He laughed and it was an order from him, sit in a chair and let him take care of you. You kind of liked it. How he cared about that.

“There ya go, love. I’m sure you’re knackered after today.” He hands you a mug of coffee, and you sip it, and nod. “I sold out of almost everything. So it’ll be a busy night restocking.” You notice the two plates of treats and smile, taking a chunk off the scone and eating it plain.

“You’re not telling me you’re going back there tonight, all by yourself?”

“I am, I’m the owner it’s my job.”

“Do your preparation here so I can keep an eye on you, I don’t want you to overwork yourself.” He digs into the cake and eats it, chasing it with the coffee, and sighs.

“Did your dad end up visiting? With your younger siblings?” Declan loved to pry, he knew your relationship with Tabitha and Marcus wasn’t as good as you’d hoped, as Helen never let them visit, and your biological mother lived in Liverpool with her new husband, wanting absolutely nothing to do with Rupert Campbell-Black.

“No, he didn’t. I suppose he’s got held up with Cameron or something.” You rolled your eyes and your plate was empty.

“That bastard. This is one of the biggest achievements in your career and he can’t even be there for his eldest.” He tuts, standing from his seat, and walking into the utility room, entering with a folded handful of clothes. “You left these at your last sleepover with Tag, I’ve ironed them, you can wear them now, it’ll get you out of the clothes you’ve worked in.”

You accepted the clothes and looked at them, it was just pyjamas, you laughed. “I’ll get them on now.” That man really didn’t want you leaving the house.

A few minutes later you returned to the kitchen, in your cotton pyjamas, they were lavender coloured. Checking the time, it was only 6:15pm, it was still bright outside, people your age were actually having a social life. As of late, you just found it hard to make time to, busy with the business and cleaning up your reputation after your father’s public sex scandal broadcast.

Helen had approached you a few weeks ago, she used to be your step mother, for years you saw her hurting, but were too young to realise just what a demon your father was to her. The endless cheating and mistreatment. You feel for her now that you’ve grown, and she’s never made you feel unwelcome in her home. You have to say, your preference for a parent leans more towards her. After all, your dad has barely looked you in the eye since you watched the news break on the tv, squished on the sofa between him and a sulking Sarah Stratton.

Declan noticed you were lost in space, walking into the kitchen, his eyes growing concerned. “What is it, love?” He had a tea towel on his shoulder from drying the dishes, wiping his fingertips on the fabric.

“It’s just, you’re right, about my dad. Don’t let him back in the franchise.” The shift in your demeanour made Declan lean against the counter, arms folded, a slight pout to his lips. “You don’t mean that, what’s changed?”

Your mind was fried, your nose flared and you felt a lump in your throat, looking away, “It doesn’t matter.” You shake your right hand to regulate your composure. “I think I’ll go lie down now, if that’s okay.”

He can only nod, his mind whirring with what could’ve possibly shifted in your brain. “Take my bed.”

You also nod, and dander up stairs, stray tears exiting your ducts.

—————-

He thought best to give you space. But Jesus it was torture. He really cared for you, something inside of him needed to. Seeing your passions and happiness get neglected hurt him inside, that’s why he always showed up for you, and helped guide you along the way, it stopped you from the panicking. Seeing you just now, that wasn’t you, something is eating you from the inside and it seemed to be bubbling over the edge.

Your handbag was hanging on the chair, he sat it on his lap and ransacked it, politely of course. He saw a planner, on today’s date were all the things that needed completed for the shop opening tomorrow. He ought to give you a hand. Taggie over-prepped last night, so the sandwiches and pastries, there were enough of. It was the bouquets that needed doing. You’d made his hallway a floral show with the amount you’d ordered there, so he filtered through the boxes and began making red and white roses tied with beige yarn, wrapped in book pages, for your signature look. He was so engrossed in making them, he ended up loving it, and imagined making them with you every week, he actually felt excitement at proposing the idea to you.

Then his stomach began to hurt, why was he excited? Well he just cared about you of course, and liked doing what you liked to do. But why? Why was he so obsessed with seeing you happy? Why did he want to be the person who makes you happy? Why did he get a rush when he shows up for you when Rupert can’t? He’s now breathless, by God, he’s fallen for you without realising.

He swallows hard, catching his breath and ties the yarn on the 40th bouquet. He’s a mad man. He delicately places them in the buckets, and heads outside to throw the cardboard in the bin. Gazing up at the house he sees his bedroom window, curtains closed. He should get started on dinner, you ought to be starving, and the girls should be home from the theatre soon.

Like the universe read his mind, the phone blared from the kitchen. Declan sprinted into the room and picked it up. “Daddy, it’s Caitlin, We’ve met up with Shelly, so we won’t be home until late, sorry.” Before he can tell them to be safe, or to even elaborate, the phone hangs up, and he’s been stood up. “Typical.” He mumbles, and sets the phone on the wall.

Once the kitchen was cleaned, he began cooking food for the both of them, it wasn’t anything fancy, just toast, jam, and tea. Putting it on a tray, he walked it upstairs for you.

Knock, knock, knock…

“Hey, you awake?” He whispered at a tone more rustic. You hum, you’re on his side of the bed, he fully walks into the room and smiles to himself. You had the bedside lamp on, reading the book he was currently reading. “You had better of kept my bookmark on the right page, or I’ll get ya.” He sets the tray on the table, and takes a rest on the edge of the bed facing you.

Gazing to your right you see he’s made some toast, you’re starving. “Thank you, Declan.” As you set the book down and reach over to get a bite, “Ah ah.” Declan stops you, and spreads the jam on the toast, then hands it to you.

“I’m more than capable of doing it myself, but thank you.” You laugh and take a bite. He smiles calmly, knowing you’re being looked after. He takes hold of the book, Yeats, his favourite author.

“You like it?” He needed you to.

“Yeah, it’s good, basically know all the plot already, because of you on the telly.”

“Oh is that so?” His smirk evident.

You take notice of it and feel a certain way.

“Eat up!” He demands you take another bite.

Opening the book on the page you just read, he begins reading to you, you feel yourself getting sleepy, and full.

Before you knew it, the plate was empty and Declan had moved beside you in the bed, you laid on his chest, eyes closed as he intimately read to you, something electric rocked inside of him, then he noticed you were too tired, he softly closed the book, rubbing your back. “You burnt out, love?” You merely respond with a hum of agreement.

“Are you going to fall asleep here?” His face just beaming for a response, his heart bursting with desire. And guilt.

His sentence took a while to filter through your brain, almost forgetting where you were for a second, you shot up. “Fuck!” Running both hands through your hair and lightly tugging in annoyance. Jolting out of bed, Declan practically crawls to get you back.

“What’s wrong?” His expression heartbroken.

“The fucking flowers, I’ll never get them done in time! God I’m suck a prick!” Your voice whining with dread. Before the man can open his mouth you’ve bolted down stairs, Jesus you were quick, he had to keep up. He was all jumbled, his clothes looked slept in.

“Darling! Wait!” You beat him to the kitchen, turning ever so quick.

“They’re done?” You’re stunned, you could cry, you do.

His hands reach up to dry the water leaking from your eyes, he’s smiling. “You’re tired.” You shake your head in disagreement and your lips extend.

“Thank you. Really, I’m so grateful.” He pulls you in by the back of your neck, with all the comfort you could ask for. Kissing atop your head naturally, although he’s never tried it before. “You think I’d send you to bed and leave you to pick up the pieces late in the evening?”

You nod.

He shakes his head. “Nonsense.”

“Thank you for today, Declan.” He can practically taste your honesty, such a kind hearted woman, a stark contrast to your father.

“You do so much. Never even ask for help, I know you need it. You can lean on me when you’re overwhelmed, you’ve known me long enough. So stop thanking me.” The way his eyes consumed your entire being should be illegal, a crime to really see you, you felt small in his arms, worshipped.

He’s leaning in closer, tilted head, he wants to take all of you.

The latch on the door opens. “I’m home, God, that day was dreadful!” Maud. Declan parts from you. A stiffness lingering in the room. Happening so quick you can’t even process it.

Was he? No.

He read to you. Maybe?

He made 40 bouquets. Yes.

Yes he was trying to kiss you. You feel naked. Feel like a layer of skin has been ripped off, now that the moment couldn’t happen. Yearning for something you didn’t realise you wanted.

Declan eyes you like a hawk. He knows you know now.

“Oh, Miss Black. I didn’t know you were here, where’s Taggie?” So formal, she isn’t usually.

“She was waiting for Tags to come home.” Declan buts in, taggie isn’t coming home tonight.

“Ah, grand. I’m heading to Bedfordshire.” She eyed Declan to follow suit. The door closes. She leaves the room. He needs to release his anguish. What’s been birthed tonight shouldn’t happen. This isn’t who he is.

“I’ll drive the bouquets to Dolly’s first thing.” He takes a hand out to touch your face, then retracts it. It’s burning.

“Declan.”

“Don’t. Please don’t talk, love.” He can only seem to stare. Frightened to do what he was about to risk 60 seconds ago.

“Go home to your father.” The tension rising in the room is suffocating. “Tell him about your day, pet the dogs, go to bed, and sleep.” You nod, grabbing your bag and head out the kitchen door. The rejection stinging.

Declan regrets letting you go, without so much as a drive home, a kiss on the head once more, a wave. It was just too open now. He feels triggered by Maud’s appearence, no longer able to think he can conquer his deepest desires.

Giving Gertrude a pet before you go, you feel fabric being wrapped around your shoulders, it’s Declan’s coat. “It’s cold.” He spins you by your waist, tying the buttons. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Well done with today.”