The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) (15 page)

T
he sunlight spilling
across Declan’s face, escaping through blinds left open last night, roused him from sleep. He kept his eyes shut for a moment and yawned, stretching his back, and then turned over to wake up Maggie in the best way possible.

She wasn’t there.

Frowning in mild confusion, he checked the time. Surely she wouldn’t be up already, so early on a weekend? Maybe she’d just gone to the bathroom, and he lay there a while, waiting, drifting in and out of a doze.

When he eventually realized he’d not heard a sound since waking up, he blinked some sleep out of his eyes and pushed himself out of bed, padding naked down the hall, checking every room.

She wasn’t just missing from his bed—she’d disappeared from his entire apartment. Even her shoes were gone.

He looked around for a note, for some sign that she’d had to slip out early, but she’d told him she would spend the whole weekend with him, didn’t she? That must’ve meant she had no other plans, so unless an emergency had come up…

Swallowing down a rise of mild concern, he located his phone and lit up the screen, intent on checking to see if she’d left him a text message or a voice mail, letting him know what had called her away. Whatever it was, he wanted to help.

She hadn’t left him a message, but Trixie had, and it took Declan the whole of half a second to figure out what had happened.

Maggie had seen this message somehow and immediately thought the worst.

Which he couldn’t blame her for—this message from Trixie was all sorts of shady. She was referring to their session at the gym, of course, in her usual overly friendly way, but Maggie wouldn’t know that—and Trixie was already a sore subject for them.

“Shit,” he said to the empty room, before rushing back to his bedroom for some pants. “Fuck.” He couldn’t deal with this naked.

Shit
. This was a disaster. After everything, the last thing Maggie needed was to feel as if all her previous reservations about him were true, that she should’ve trusted her instincts. She’d said it to him, back at the wedding—told him he had a reputation for this. And he
did
, he was the first one to admit that, but not now—not since Maggie Emerson came into his life. Not since he fell in love.

All of his calls went straight to her voice mail and he left multiple messages throughout the morning, increasingly desperate after heading to her place and finding her missing from there, too.

“No, I haven’t seen her,” Drew told him when he called, thinking perhaps she’d gone to Cami for comfort. “Cami and I are just heading out to this family thing—”

“No worries, thanks,” Declan said, hanging up, sitting in his idling car in the street by Maggie’s apartment, casting about for some idea of what to do.

He called Grant, got no response there either, and then called the hospital. “She’s not working today,” said the woman on the other end of the line. “Scheduled for Monday.”

He didn’t know what else to do, short of calling her family. But he was pretty sure she wouldn’t have gone to them, and he was certain that she’d be absolutely furious to hear he’d brought them into their business. Her mother maybe, but if her aunts got wind of this…

“
Think
,” he snapped at himself, thumping his forehead on the steering wheel. Who else was she close to?

The girls
.

It was never just Cami, whenever Maggie went out. It was always “the girls”. Cami and…

Ashley!

Jesus, he should’ve thought of her before. Of course, she worked at the hospital too, and she was friends with Cami—Declan had met her a few times at Drew’s various functions. It made sense that Maggie was a part of that little group, too. Only problem was, Declan didn’t have her number.

He called Drew again.

“I need to speak to Cami,” he said, wasting no time.

“Ah, we’re just getting in the car, buddy…running late…”

“Please,” he said through clenched teeth, and he heard Cami in the background enquiring about the call.

“Declan Archibald,” Drew muttered to her, and the next second there was a bit of a rustle, before Cami’s sweet voice came through the line.

“Declan? Is Maggie okay?”

“I…yeah. I need Ashley’s number.”

“Ashley? Hold
on,
Drew. Let me just—” There was a pause, and when Cami next spoke, her voice had a slight echo, liked she’d slipped into an empty room. “What do you want with Ashley?”

He pressed a fist to the center of his forehead, screwing up his eyes. Considered lying, but knew any lie right now would come back to bite him on the ass. After blowing out a breath of composure, he said, “Maggie and I have had a…misunderstanding. And I think she’s with Ashley now.”

“A misunderstanding.”

With a resigned sigh, he said flatly, “She thinks I’ve cheated on her.”

“Have you?” The response came at once, arched and sharp.

“No! Jesus. Like I said, it’s a misunderstanding. And I’d really like to get it straightened out.”

Cami hesitated. “I mean…if she wanted to speak to you, then she would. Right?”

Loyal until the end. Declan laughed mirthlessly.

“Please,” he said, entirely without shame. “I’ll beg if I have to.”

“Why don’t you leave Maggie a voice mail?”

“She’ll delete it. She’ll screen all my calls. All calls from unknown numbers. Everything. There’s no way I’ll be able to get through to her today. I’m pretty sure she’s blocked my number too.”

“Then wait—”

“I
can’t
,” he said, wrapping a white-knuckled grip around the steering wheel. “I love her.” And then, quieter, almost a whisper: “I love her.”

It took Cami a while, and when she did speak, there was a slight tremble to her voice. “She’s gonna hate me.”

“She won’t,” Declan rushed to tell her, sensing some hope. “Once she knows the truth, I promise—”

“Declan,” she said, and he waited, but she went very quiet.
Thinking
, he realized. Thinking about how best to help her friend. Then she said, “I’ll text it to you,” and he ran a shaking hand through his hair.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you. This—you and her… I’ll text it to you.”

Ten minutes later, armed with Ashley’s number, he considered his next move. He could call, beg to speak with Maggie. He could call and leave a voice mail, explaining everything to a machine. He could text, ask Ashley to make sure Maggie read it.

All of these things seemed wildly underwhelming.

In the end, he called, but he offered no explanation.

“This is Declan Archibald,” he said, and listened to Ashley’s sharp intake of breath.

“She won’t want—”

He cut her off. There was no point wasting anyone’s time here. “Tell Maggie to meet me at the hospital tomorrow, at noon. I’ve got the answers she needs.” Then he hung up abruptly, confident his message would be passed on.

He wasn’t going to offer some lame explanation. She deserved more than his pathetic attempts to explain away a dodgy text message.

She deserved something he should’ve done from the start: put an end to her misery at work. He had the solution to lift all the weight of the world off her shoulders and until now he’d failed, caught in some misguided loyalty for an old friend.

His affection for Grant went back decades, but his love for Maggie was stronger. And really, at the end of the day, he would be doing the best thing for both of them—Grant couldn’t live in this bubble of denial forever, and when he finally did break his way out of it, he’d feel wretched for having put Maggie through so much pain.

To save Maggie from this nightmare, and to limit Grant’s despair once he got his shit together, Declan could do only one thing.

He was going to have to blow a hole in their worlds.

M
aggie drove
around aimlessly for hours. No destination in mind; no thought to the roads she took, a left here, a right there. She could’ve driven all the way to the ocean for all she knew.

The only thing she could think about was that message.

The message, sent to Declan at some point while he and Maggie had been in bed together, with Trixie Lane’s name attached to it—it could only mean one thing. There was no other interpretation of those words.
…still aching…hit that spot so good…

Maggie felt sick.

Declan had told her that Trixie was just a friend, and she’d believed him, and she was glad for it. Because if Declan’s type was tall, leggy blondes, then she stood no chance. With her wild dark hair, short frame, and generous curves, she was as far from the glamorous society girl look as it was possible to get.

But Trixie was just a friend, apparently, and Maggie was the one he wanted in his bed.

Lies, all of it.

She couldn’t believe he’d taken her away for the most romantic stay in a woodland cabin, made her think she could trust him,
rely
on him to always do right by her, and then the day he dropped her home, hours after they’d kissed goodbye, he found his way into Trixie’s arms…between Trixie’s
legs
, it seemed…

God, she could kill him. Actually tear him apart. The rage burning through her blood made her shake, made her want to scream. But all she could do was cry, because beneath the burning, consuming rage, she was a wreck of devastation.

She’d thought he cared about her. She thought what they had was
real
.

Turned out all he cared about was fucking anything that moved. And she’d let herself be a target.

A player will play, and you made yourself a game…

Everything she went against, the whole reason she had trust issues in the first place, it all came down to the betrayal of a man. Her father, decades ago, living his double life of too much alcohol and too many other women, tearing his family’s world apart. And she’d sworn to herself that she would never put herself in that situation. That if she didn’t trust a man one hundred percent, then she would walk away from him.

She’d had her doubts about Declan from day one, but still, she remained with him—because he lit her up like nothing else, spoke to the very soul of her. She never quite trusted him, but she wanted to, so badly. Wanted to have all of him, every day, forever.

She should’ve listened to her instincts. Once a player, always a player. What was she thinking, betting on Declan changing for her? He wouldn’t change for anyone.

Eventually, with the sun rising and her tears running dry, she found herself outside Ashley’s little house. She couldn’t go home; that would be the first place Declan would look for her. And she needed space from him right now—time enough to pull herself together. She wasn’t going to face him when she was such a wreck. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing quite how much he’d shattered her.

Before getting out of the car, she took a moment to text her mom, letting her know she’d be unavailable for phone calls that day, and then turned her phone off. He wouldn’t even be able to call her. She wanted to give him total radio silence—it was the least he deserved.

Then she went and sat on Ashley’s porch and waited for her to come home from the night shift. With a start, Maggie remembered how Ashley had also covered her shift yesterday on top of her own responsibilities—Maggie had been so swept away by the drama of everything that she’d forgotten she’d abandoned work in the middle of her split shift.
God
, the last thing she needed now was for Dr. Stevens to find a reason to reprimand her. Hopefully Ashley had covered for her well. Maggie would definitely be buying her a gift and taking a few of her shifts to say thank you.

The first thing Ashley said, when she climbed out of her little car and spotted Maggie on her porch, was: “Jesus, what happened?” Which was a testament to how upset Maggie must’ve looked. No way could she face that asshole while so obviously affected by his actions.

“Declan’s sleeping with someone else,” she said bluntly, and Ashley stumbled to a stop.

She paused, blinking up at Maggie, then said, “I’ve got vodka in the fridge.”

Maggie snorted. “It’s nine A.M.”

“We’ll put orange juice in it.”

T
hey didn’t have vodka
, but they did have a long chat, and at some point Maggie made an embarrassing show of herself by breaking down with emotion. Ashley just hugged her tight and rubbed her back and waited until she’d pulled herself together. Then, tears dried and mind cleared, the anger came back full force.

“I can’t believe I let that
asshole
—” Maggie was spitting mid-tirade, when she noticed Ashley’s bloodshot eyes and pale skin. Instantly, guilt overrode the anger. “God, Ash, I’m so sorry. Here I am ranting on, and you haven’t had any sleep yet.”

Ashley tried to wave it off, pretend she was fine, but eventually, she gave in and plodded off to bed and told Maggie not to leave yet.

Maggie had no intention of going anywhere. This was the only place she felt vaguely safe. And it wasn’t as if she was scared of Declan—it wasn’t that kind of safety she needed. She was scared of her own reactions if he got in touch with her. Right now she was furious with him, wanted nothing more than to rip his balls off and stomp on them in her sharpest stilettos. But there was also the part of her that had dived head first into a relationship with him even after her brother’s warning, after knowing herself how Declan was bad news. Apparently, when it came to Declan Archibald, she couldn’t trust herself to make the smartest decisions.

And so she planned to hang out here at Ashley’s tiny house for as long as possible—at least until she had a handle on herself, and knew she would be able to face Declan without allowing his charm and her own desire to take her over.

Ashley hadn’t long lived in this house, and as far as Maggie knew, she and Declan weren’t exactly friends—Ash just knew of him. The chances of him knowing her address were slim.

Safe in her hiding spot here, and with a full day stretched out before her, Maggie decided to get a little sleep, after her interrupted night and all the aimless driving. She settled on the couch with a cozy knitted blanket she found draped over the back of it, and closed her eyes.

The message swam through her mind, images of Trixie Lane, the two of them together, how they would look in bed, twisted around each other, full of pleasure…

She threw the blanket aside and got up. Stretched her back and ruffled her wild hair a moment. And then, cracking a yawn, it was like the torment of everything lifted slightly, enough for her to look around this house properly for the first time since she got here. And what she saw made her feel awful for Ashley.

The place was a mess. The string of night shifts had obviously taken their toll on Ashley, because she was never this unkempt. Against the backdrop of shabby-chic décor was an abundance of takeout containers, dirty mugs, laundry tipped here and there, mail piled up…signs, all of it, of a woman with too much on her plate. And now Maggie knew exactly how she could pay Ashley back for covering her shift.

Arming herself with rubber gloves and her hair tied back, Maggie got to work, trying to stay as quiet as possible so as not to disturb Ashley from her much-needed sleep.

By the time she was finished, her stomach informed her it was about lunchtime, and the house looked as shiny and charmingly shabby as it usually did. Maggie observed it with her hands on her hips, smiling at a job well done.

“Wow,” Ashley said, stumbling into the room, rubbing one eye, her hair plastered to her left cheek and one pajama leg bunched up. “You’ve saved me a job here.”

Maggie lifted a shoulder. “I owed you one. What’re you doing up already? You’ve only had an hour or so…”

Ashley grunted a reply and staggered into the kitchen.

And now Maggie had nothing left to do, no more distractions; those conflicting emotions she’d managed to smother with a pair of rubber gloves and house chores now reared their ugly heads again. She sighed shakily and took a seat on the edge of the couch, waiting for Ashley to make herself coffee. Tried to fool herself into thinking everything was fine…she was just visiting a friend…nothing odd going on here…

Ashley’s phone rang on the coffee table, lighting up and trilling like a siren of panic. Declan’s name didn’t show on the screen, but his number did, and Maggie knew it instantly.

She and Ashley locked eyes when Ashley came into the room, frozen in a moment of
oh-shit-what-do-we-do
.

Maggie swallowed and nodded, and watched with her heart in a throat as Ashley had a very short, terse conversation on the phone.

“That was him,” Ashley said after, gazing at Maggie with uncertainty.

Maggie already knew that, but it still made her stomach swoop. “How did he even get your number?”

“Don’t worry about that now.” She took a seat beside Maggie on the couch, impatiently shoving hair off her face. “He wants you to meet him at the hospital tomorrow.”

“Of course, he does.” Maggie felt sick again, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. The shock of the message had worn off, and now there was a strange sort of sadness washing through her.

Declan hadn’t begged to speak to Maggie, to see her, to explain his side of things. The conversation had been brief. Concise. Businesslike.

He didn’t care enough to plead his case.

Ashley continued, oblivious to Maggie torment: “Says he’s got the answers you need.”

“He means lies,” Maggie said, sounding to her own ears as if her voice was coming from a great distance. Her tone was empty, dry. Ashley stared at her.

“This isn’t about Trixie Lane.”

“What?”

“He’s asked you to attend a meeting at the hospital tomorrow,” Ashley said steadily. “He wasn’t calling to beg for you back. He’s arranging a meeting as your lawyer. He’s got answers.”

There was a weird buzzing going on in Maggie’s head, like the static of an old radio. “ But I already know who did it.”

“Maybe he’s got some different information for you.” Ashley grabbed her hands, squeezed them, looked her deep in the eye. And the buzzing faded long enough for Maggie to take in her next words.

“You’ve got to go, Mags. This is your future.”

Her employment future. Not her future with Declan.

That future no longer existed—if it ever did.