The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) (9 page)

She sobered, heartbeat slowing, and smiled back at him—gently, but a little strained.

“Well, I can provide pasta, at least,” she said, pulling away from him to continue serving up dinner.

“And…is that blueberry I can smell?”

“Yep.”

“That was always my favorite.”

“I know; I remember.” She felt a little foolish now, making him his favorite dessert from his younger years. She remembered it vividly, how happy he seemed every time it was served at dinner whenever he came over to hang out with Grant. She’d even started to suspect that the kitchen staff made it on purpose, aware of his delight for it. Hers, now, wouldn’t taste nearly as nice, but she’d wanted to make it anyway, a token thank-you he’d be happy to accept. Except it seemed massively insignificant now, when the time came to present it to him.
Thanks for all you’re doing to save my whole world—here’s a pie.

To top it off, she couldn’t even stick around to share it with him. “You’ll have to eat it on your own, though,” she said, apology in her voice. “I’m meeting the girls soon. Just got enough time to have dinner.”

He paused. And then: “Should I pick you up after, or…?”

“No, I’ll get a cab. But thank you.”

Facing the counter, cleaning up the mess she’d made slopping the marinara sauce onto the pasta, she thought he’d left the room. It made her startle, therefore, when he suddenly murmured directly into her ear, “As long as you get that cab right back here,” his voice full of sinful promise.

Her whole body flooded with heat. “You’re gonna get sick of me soon.”

“Trust me,” he said, hand snaking over her hip, lips whispering against her neck, “I won’t.” And then, as her eyes fluttered shut, as his hand slipped around to her front and lower,
warmer,
he pressed a kiss to her throat and said, “I’ll go set the table,” before backing away and disappearing.

She let out a breath and made a mental note to change her underwear before she left.

T
he marinara sauce
bubbled cheerfully in the pan, and the scent of blueberry pie wafted from the oven, the two combining to create a pleasant mix of smells in this sharp, expensive kitchen. Maggie was pretty sure that, until these past couple of days, this oven had never been used for anything resembling home cooking. And it wouldn’t have even had that introduction now, either—except she had nothing else to do with her days. Because the rest of the world worked; the rest of the world had
purpose
. Not Maggie, though. She didn’t have a job anymore. She didn’t have anything.

It’s just a suspension
, she told herself, but the thought drifted vague and indistinct through the gloom of her mind. It didn’t feel like just a short suspension. It felt like the end. And she was hopeless with it.

She couldn’t
believe
it had come to this. That this was her life now—suspected of stealing drugs from the hospital she worked in as a nurse, tossed out on her ass,
accused
.

It had taken everything she had not to break down in tears these past few days. But she was determined to stay strong. She refused to let them win. Let
Dr. Stevens
win.

Strong arms snaked around her waist and hugged her in warmth, and a smile hitched onto her face as she stirred the sauce.

Declan was the one thing going right in her life, and she still got the giddy feeling coiling in her gut every time he touched her, gazed at her—when that smile lit up his eyes, or he looked at her with the now-familiar fiery intensity that made her panties wet.

“Hmm,” he murmured, tucking his face into her neck and tightening his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. “Smells good.” He punctuated the words with a nip at her neck, and she squirmed, electric heat shooting down her spine.

“It’ll be ruined if you keep distracting me…”

“I could get used to this,” he said against her hair, rocking her slightly, “coming home to you in an apron, cooking me up a nice hot meal every night…” At her sharp look over her shoulder, he grinned and added, “Kidding.”

She tutted, smiling despite herself, and went back to stirring the sauce while he nuzzled her hair for a brief moment and hummed under his breath.

“I said I’d cook tonight.”

She sighed, mostly to herself, and said with a voice laced in misery, “You’re doing enough. And I’m…useless.” She wasn’t lying. Declan had been working to dig her out of this mess, and she’d spent the same amount of time holed up in this glittering penthouse, entirely hopeless.

“You’re not useless,” he told her sternly. “You’ve just hit a bump. Just because you’re not working right this second, it doesn’t mean you’re no longer a nurse. An incredible nurse,” he added, giving her a bracing squeeze around the middle.

She huffed and, apologetically, pulled his arms away and stepped out of his hold, reaching for plates as she muttered, “Doesn’t feel that way.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, and she tensed with uncertainty. They’d been “together”—or whatever this was—for no longer than a week, and she’d filled almost all of that time with her relentless misery. These early weeks should’ve been all about the first flush of romance, of getting to know each other intimately, of breathless, giddy excitement.

And it
was
like that. It really was. She’d spent every night here since
that
night, the one that rocked the foundations of her world, and while it hadn’t exactly been a happy time, there was no denying that what she had here, now, with Declan, was the most thrilling experience of her life. The intensity of it, the
pleasure
, the all-consuming passion… She could hardly find a moment to calm her heartbeat.

But still, the black cloud lingered. Of course, it did. At any given moment, her new-romance excitement would abruptly and overwhelmingly make way for a rush of panic and fear.

She was at risk of losing her career. But, worse than that, she was very close to having her entire reputation and good standing dragged through the mud. She could rearrange her career ambition—somehow, some way, carve out a new road for herself that still included helping people, if not as an ER nurse. But what she couldn’t cope with, not after all her hard work to prove herself, was knowing that people she respected would think of her as an untrustworthy, immoral, unethical
thief
.

She had to swallow away a newly formed lump in her throat as she started dishing up the pasta onto the plates, and nearly jumped out of her skin when warm, large hands settled on her shoulders.

“I’m doing everything I can to put an end to this,” Declan said, very quietly, talking close to her ear and with a tone that said he understood, that he could read every depressing thought traveling through her mind.

She reached up to grip his hand for a moment. “I know.” She was so grateful for everything he was doing, even if she didn’t yet know if it would come to anything. But what she did know was that there was no way she could’ve afforded a lawyer of his caliber on her own, and she certainly wouldn’t have gone to her parents for help.

Her father would’ve made her feel like the worst disappointment in the history of black-sheep children of the world, and her mother—bless her—wouldn’t have been able to hide her true feelings on the matter. Supportive, sure, but still that part of her that would be deeply embarrassed to have
her
child caught up in such a scandal.
What would they think at the club?

If it hadn’t have been for Declan, Maggie would’ve had no choice but to just roll over and take it. Declan, right now, was her lifeline.

“Just trust me, okay?” he said, kissing her temple before pulling away. “You’ll be back to work in no time.”

She turned to face him, watched him retrieve a couple of wine glasses and set them on the counter. “Can I help with anything? I feel so useless just sitting around here.”

“To be honest, there’s not much you can do. I don’t plan on letting this get that far—it’s just a case of finding that one weak spot in their armor, and it’s done.”

Nibbling her lower lip, she waited for him to uncork a sauvignon blanc, the muscles in his forearms flexing pleasingly, and asked, “Do you really think you can put a stop to all of this?”

“I know I can.” He glanced at her as he said it, his gaze full of sexy confidence.

Sometimes, she forgot how much of a high-powered lawyer he was. That he wasn’t
just
a lawyer. He was Declan Archibald—the benchmark to which other lawyers were compared. He was a phenomenon in his field, a powerhouse, highly esteemed and downright frightening in his talent. He was, for want of a better phrase, the Alpha Lawyer in town, and he had the political elite, the troublemaking celebrities, and the business heavyweights sitting pretty in the palm of his hand.

It was a side of him she knew, but one which he kept separate from their time together—mostly. A hint of it slipped out, when he told her to
don’t move
and
don’t come yet
and, during last night’s memorable intimacy,
gonna make you beg for it
. Her knees went weak at the thought of it, a tingle shooting through her groin.

He made her feel good in ways she didn’t know possible, and added to that, like he wasn’t already blowing her mind, he’d also decided to save her life—figuratively speaking—as if he even had the time to spare.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve everything you’re doing for me,” she told him, feeling as if she was repeating a sentiment she’d muttered to him a dozen times before. But she’d keep saying it—never wanted him to think she was taking his generosity for granted. “I wish you’d let me pay for your time.”

“You know I’d never accept it,” he said at once, and then, wine poured, he put the bottle down and approached her. “Besides,” he muttered, a soft smile on his face, reaching up to trace the edge of her jaw with his fingertips, “there’s no price you can put on helping someone you care about.”

Her heart rate hitched at the words. Did he know what he was saying? Did he
mean
what he was saying, or was it just a figure of speech? She couldn’t ask. Now was not the time, and it was
definitely
too early to be having any sort of talk about feelings.

For all she knew, this was little more than a bit of fun to Declan.

“Thanks for the great time. –D”
The memory of that message, scrawled hurriedly onto a card within a bouquet after their first night together, filtered unbidden into her mind.

She sobered, heartbeat slowing, and smiled back at him—gently, but a little strained.

“Well, I can provide pasta, at least,” she said, pulling away from him to continue serving up dinner.

“And…is that blueberry I can smell?”

“Yep.”

“That was always my favorite.”

“I know; I remember.” She felt a little foolish now, making him his favorite dessert from his younger years. She remembered it vividly, how happy he seemed every time it was served at dinner whenever he came over to hang out with Grant. She’d even started to suspect that the kitchen staff made it on purpose, aware of his delight for it. Hers, now, wouldn’t taste nearly as nice, but she’d wanted to make it anyway, a token thank-you he’d be happy to accept. Except it seemed massively insignificant now, when the time came to present it to him.
Thanks for all you’re doing to save my whole world—here’s a pie.

To top it off, she couldn’t even stick around to share it with him. “You’ll have to eat it on your own, though,” she said, apology in her voice. “I’m meeting the girls soon. Just got enough time to have dinner.”

He paused. And then: “Should I pick you up after, or…?”

“No, I’ll get a cab. But thank you.”

Facing the counter, cleaning up the mess she’d made slopping the marinara sauce onto the pasta, she thought he’d left the room. It made her startle, therefore, when he suddenly murmured directly into her ear, “As long as you get that cab right back here,” his voice full of sinful promise.

Her whole body flooded with heat. “You’re gonna get sick of me soon.”

“Trust me,” he said, hand snaking over her hip, lips whispering against her neck, “I won’t.” And then, as her eyes fluttered shut, as his hand slipped around to her front and lower,
warmer,
he pressed a kiss to her throat and said, “I’ll go set the table,” before backing away and disappearing.

She let out a breath and made a mental note to change her underwear before she left.

“
H
ow’re you coping
?” Ashley asked her mid-hug, giving her a tight squeeze. She pulled back, hands on Maggie’s shoulders, looking her in the eye and adding, “You staying strong?”

“I’m okay,” Maggie said, pulling away so she could hug Cami in turn. “Declan’s been great.”

Cami smirked. “I bet he has.”

“Stop it.”

“I can imagine he’s
very
attentive,” Ashley said, voice dripping in innuendo.

“Ashley!” Maggie couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her, a rush of joy twisting her stomach. It felt so good to laugh, after everything. She took her seat at the table and gave the girls a smirk of her own. “He is.” And then blushed all the way up to her hairline. Ashley cackled.

Cami, meanwhile, had decided the joke was no longer funny. She slumped into her seat, grumpy frown taking up residence on her face. “Can we not talk about our amazing sex lives right now?”

At Maggie’s questioning look, Ashley supplied, “Drew’s gone away on business.” To Cami, she huffed, “It’s only a week, girl.”

Cami pouted. “It’s the first time we’ve been apart.” She received twin eye-rolls and sat straighter, lifting her hands. “I’m adjusting,” she said, and Maggie bumped her shoulder, smiling softly.

“Hey, at least you’ve got a man coming home to you,” Ashley said. “I’m so depressingly single.”

“Well, now Maggie’s all loved up, you’re next.”

“I’m not loved up,” said Maggie. The girls both gave her a flat look. “I’m not! I don’t even know if we’re, you know…a thing.”

Cami blinked. “Haven’t you stayed at his penthouse every night this week?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Drew says word’s getting round that Declan’s canceling on all his clients this week. He’s putting
everything
into making sure you’ll be okay.” She looked down to brush invisible lint off her blouse, adding casually, but with obvious veiled meaning, “Doesn’t sound like a no-strings hook-up to me.”

The words set Maggie’s heart racing. Hearing it from a third party—that Declan cared about her, and was making her a priority—made it all seem so startlingly real. And she couldn’t deny that it thrilled her. But almost immediately, that same ice-cold blast of reality hit her square in the chest, and her heart thudded back down to her gut.

“He’s wasting his time,” she said morosely. “He hasn’t said it, but I know it’s hopeless. He’s so guarded about it, like he knows I’m screwed but doesn’t want to tell me.”

“Well that’s definitely not true,” Ashley said bracingly, while Cami shook her head. “Sounds to me like he’s just focused. You’re all he cares about right now.”

“Stop saying things like that.” She couldn’t cope with the roller coaster of emotions—hearing how much Declan cared about her, and in the next instant remembering the mess of her life right now. It was too much emotional whiplash.

Ten minutes later, after they’d received their drinks and chatted about other things—an attempt, Maggie knew, to take her mind off this horrendous situation—Ashley suddenly leaned forward, her sizable breasts squishing against the tabletop, and said out of nowhere, “Look, it’s not you stealing the drugs.”

Maggie didn’t try steering her off-track. It gave her some comfort, somehow, knowing that her friends were so certain of her innocence. She didn’t know how she could go on if they doubted her, too.

She took a sip of her gin. “Nope.”

“So all we need to do is figure out who
is
,” Ashley added, with the tone of someone who’d decided it was time for action. Rallying the troops. Problem was, Maggie’s hands were completely tied.

“Right,” she said, snorting, “let me just get out my detective badge—”

Ashley ignored the sarcasm. “Who would want to frame you?”

“No one, I hope!” Maggie said, coughing, caught mid-swallow. “God.”

“But someone has. So you need to start seriously thinking about who has it in for you.”

Maggie was hardly even on speaking terms with most people at the hospital. Not in a bad way, not at all—she was easy to get along with, or at least she hoped she was! But she was always so focused on her job that she hadn’t really connected with many of the other nurses or doctors, at least not beyond polite hellos and exchanging patient information. Cami and Ashley were the only two people she really knew in her department.

She couldn’t imagine why someone who for all intents and purposes was a complete stranger would have it in her for her. She hadn’t crossed anyone, as far as she knew. The most she could’ve done was accidentally use the last of the coffee in the staff room—but even then, it was hardly grounds for total career sabotage. Whoever was doing this to her must
really
hate her.

It’s not just Cami and Ashley
, her subconscious whispered to her. There was someone else with whom she had regular dealings. Someone who was at the root of all of this.

It would make sense, but she still found herself muttering, “Can’t be Dr. Stevens,” because there was no way. Couldn’t be. The guy lived for his job; he wouldn’t want to risk being exposed as a saboteur. It’d be the end of him. “He’s a dick, but he wouldn’t want to risk getting caught out.”

“He thinks your dad’s cleared a path for you to get the job you wanted,” Cami pointed out.

“He doesn’t like people who don’t pay their dues,” Ashley added.

Maggie thought about it a moment, then shook her head. Dr. Stevens was a total dick, but he was also a smart man. “Still can’t see him doing it.” She slumped a little, having exhausted her possibilities already, and flagged down the barman for another round. “Have there been any more incidents since I got suspended?”

Ashley and Cami exchanged a look, and then Ashley said with a visible apology, “No.”

“God,” said Maggie, groaning, flopping her forehead down onto the tabletop, “just kill me.” And then another face floated into her mind, and she sat up so abruptly that Ashley jumped, splashing herself in the face with her own drink. “Ronald.”

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t put him in the frame before. Of
course,
Ronald.

“What?” Ashley asked, mopping her face with a napkin.

“Ronald Mitchell. The resident I dated.”

Cami’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

And almost as quickly as the thought hit her, doubt filtered in. No, not Ronald. He wasn’t malicious—he was just weird. He wanted her all for himself, he’d made that perfectly clear, but he also cared deeply about having a respectable wife. There was no way he’d want to be involved with theft.

“No, not really,” she said, slumping again. “I don’t know.” She scrubbed a hand over her brow, trying to find some believable logic in the Ronald theory. “He hates that I wouldn’t bend to his relationship demands and chose to walk away instead. Maybe this is him lashing out.”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Cami said, voice full of doubt. “He
is
a bit creepy. Honestly, Mags, I never understood why you dated him in the first place.”

Maggie lifted a shoulder. “He was a distraction.” Which, of course, brought her mind straight back around to Declan—the man she was rebounding from when she agreed to go on that first date with Ronald. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies, such a wild juxtaposition to how this conversation was making her feel that she almost hiccuped a hysterical laugh. Trust thoughts of Declan to burst through the gloom and lift her spirits.

“Look, we can’t do much to help with the investigation,” Ashley said, oblivious to the sharp detour Maggie’s thoughts had taken, “but we
can
dig around a bit at work, listen to the gossip. Maybe we’ll pick up on something.”

Cami reached out and squeezed Maggie’s hand. “Until then, try not to get too worked up about it. You’ll be back at work in a couple days.”

With a snort, Maggie said, “Unless they find a reason to extend my suspension,” and whatever Cami wanted to counter with, she was forced into silence by the arrival of the barman, fresh drinks on his tray.

After he left, Ashley eyeing him up appreciatively, Cami said, “They can’t do that unless they’ve got something concrete to go on, right? You’ll be fine.”

Sipping her drink, Maggie couldn’t but feel as if she detected a hint of uncertainty in Cami’s tone.