Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  “I’m serious, Declan.”

  “I know.”

  After Eden left, Alyssa and I started to strategize on how we would present the united front Alyssa herself had suggested earlier in the day. It wouldn’t be hard in some respects, like spending time together in public, but others would be more difficult, like keeping the vultures away from Phoebe. We both agreed though, that task had to be our number-one priority.

  CHAPTER FIVE: VULTURES

  IT DIDN’T TAKE long before I needed to put Alyssa’s advice into play. Mere minutes after the press release was issued the following morning, I received my first phone call from the press.

  After that first call the phone rang almost non-stop.

  The media had a raft of questions, but mostly they boiled down to the two most vital ones. Who was I driving for now, and what was the reason behind the split from Sinclair Racing?

  Following Alyssa’s advice, I gave the same answer each time: “I’m not driving at the moment, and no comment.”

  Some of the more reputable organisations left it at that. Others weren’t so professional. They’d gathered information about Alyssa, about Phoebe, and one or two had even found out about Emmanuel.

  With an effort worthy of a fucking saint, I held my tongue as they tried to bait me to get a sound bite of me losing control. The one thing that helped me the most was to concentrate on Alyssa and Phoebe. Together, they did a fantastic job of distracting me from my worries over the whole situation between phone calls. After fielding the tenth call of the morning, I decided enough was e-fucking-nough and left the phone off the hook. I left the study with a snarl on my lips and Alyssa glanced over at me with a concerned look on her face.

  “You know what? Let’s blow this joint,” I said. “How’s a trip to the beach sound?”

  Alyssa chuckled. “As much as I’d love to, I didn’t exactly pack for the beach when we left.”

  “So, we’ll go to the shops first then.”

  “You can’t just spend money willy-nilly, Dec.”

  Not now that you’re unemployed. Even though she hadn’t said the words, they were as loud as the rest of her sentence in my head. A reminder that I had to start being more frugal. That I had to call my banker and work out my finances and see how long I could last without having to liquidate everything.

  Fuck it. That could be tomorrow’s problem. “Can we just have one more day without worrying about it?” I asked. “I know I’ll have to start being careful soon, but not today. Okay?”

  “If that’s what you need.”

  “I need a day with my girls. A day without any stress. Most of all, I need a day away from that goddamned telephone before I give one of those leeches everything they deserve for their stupid-arse questions. Plus, you leave tomorrow.”

  Her gaze fell and she moved closer to me. “Don’t remind me.”

  My lips twitched upward, knowing that it was as unpleasant a thought for her as it was for me.

  Within ten minutes, we were in my Prado—it was at least a little more discreet than the Monaro—and headed for the local shops. Within an hour, we’d grabbed a basic swimsuit for each of them and were at Bondi Beach. The beach was busy enough to allow us to blend in, but not so busy that we couldn’t find a quiet spot near the water. Hiding under my hat and sunnies, I was able to sit with Phoebe and help her make a sandcastle.

  I pulled my shirt off to enjoy a little of the sun and to take Phoebe into the water to splash around in the shallow waves.

  “Should you really go in there?” Alyssa asked, glancing at the ocean.

  I gave her a questioning look, and she indicated her back.

  “You know, with your tattoo.”

  “It’ll be fine. I don’t think I need to be up to my neck in the water with Phoebe.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m positive.” I turned to Phoebe. “You wanna go swim to wash off the sand?”

  She nodded before taking off straight for the ocean. Unsure about how confident she was in the water, I rushed off behind her.

  When I turned back to tell Alyssa to join us, I caught her gaze lingering on my back—on the tattoo celebrating Phoebe and commemorating Emmanuel. In the water up to my knees, I smirked at her to let her know she’d been caught staring. She just shrugged and gave me a look that said, “What do you expect?” before relaxing back against the towel.

  I followed Phoebe a little further out, watching her like an eagle the whole time. She spun and danced in the ocean, jumping over some waves and diving under others. Each time a wave approached, she’d squeal and dance.

  A couple of minutes later, a hand grabbed my arse. I twisted in place to give the molester a gobful, but the abuse stilled on my tongue when I saw it was Alyssa.

  For a moment, I was completely stunned and it wasn’t just the abusive words that died in my mouth. I couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone make it into a sound.

  It was probably a sign of how distracted I’d been that even though I’d caught a glimpse of the small black bikini at the shops as Alyssa had scanned it through the self-service checkout, I hadn’t really imagined what it might look like on her. If I had, I don’t think my imagination would have drummed up an image even half as hot as the one in front of me.

  Black Lycra contrasted against her milky white skin. Her hair curled around her shoulders, the ends calling my attention downward. The ruffles along the top of the cups accentuated the perfect fullness of her boobs. The ties that were knotted at her hips hinted at just how easy the bottoms would be to remove. Without thought, I moved closer to her.

  Alyssa’s gaze shifted to Phoebe for a moment, checking that she was okay, before heading back to meet mine. On the way, her eyes trailed a smoking-hot path over my body.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I murmured to her as I captured her in my arms. I glanced quickly at Phoebe, playing not even an arm’s length away, to ensure she was okay. “Or I can’t be held responsible for what happens later,” I murmured in her ear as I pulled her closer to me. Unable to resist her, I nibbled her neck.

  Her breath came as a needy sigh before she chuckled. “Where’s a babysitter when you need one, right?” Her eyes focused on Phoebe as she brushed her hair behind her ear, exposing more of her neck to me.

  I moved us so that her back was against my front, my cock pressed between her arse cheeks. It was like heaven. Her words and the feel of her in my arms were sharp reminders that the previous night, for the second night in a row, Phoebe hadn’t fallen asleep easily and had woken constantly. Between that, the stress of the situation, the fact I refused to make love to Alyssa in a bed where I’d seduced other women, and Alyssa’s exhaustion when she’d first arrived, we hadn’t exactly had the chance to reconnect properly. The need to take her was getting stronger with every passing second. I was dying for her.

  “Hopefully she’ll sleep better tonight,” Alyssa murmured, leaning against my body. The heat in her eyes when she turned her head slightly to meet mine was too much. Need for her raced through my body and down to my cock, causing it to swell further and ache with need.

  “Fuck, you really can’t say things like that to me in public,” I whispered against her neck.

  “Why not?” Her voice was filled with false innocence. After checking Phoebe once more, she spun in my arms, put her hand on my chest, and whispered into my ear, “I guess I shouldn’t tell you how badly I want you to fuck me.” The last two words were nothing more than a breath against the shell of my ear.

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat, but that didn’t help the one growing in my boardies. “Fuck me,” I murmured, a little louder than I’d intended.

  “Maybe later,” Alyssa said with a throaty chuckle as she moved away from me and closer to Phoebe. “If you watch your language.” She turned and winked at me.

  The lack of her warm body in my hold was instantly noticeable, but wasn’t enough to deflate my raging hard-on. Knowing I needed to get myself under co
ntrol considering we were on a beach filled with families, I checked Alyssa was close to Phoebe and then headed deeper into the tepid seawater.

  “Where are you going?” Alyssa called after me, but I just raised my hand to tell her to give me a moment.

  Looking out at the open ocean, I closed my eyes and breathed in the sea air as the water surrounded my lower half. The salty breeze whipped through my hair and around my face. After another deep breath, another lungful of the cleansing air, I turned back toward my girls. I watched for a moment without them knowing as Alyssa lifted Phoebe over a wave and then in a loose circle through the air. The wind carried their laughter to me. The moment was so fucking tender, it made my heart swell with pride that I was able to call them mine.

  I was heading back over to join them when I saw someone standing on the beach. At first, I was almost willing to ignore the guy, but something about him demanded my attention. He was a young man—he couldn’t have been more than eighteen. His camera was slightly too big to belong to a tourist—especially with the telephoto lens sticking out the front. My fingers curled into fists at the sight. A fucking paparazzo.

  Did he know I was there? His camera certainly seemed trained in my direction.

  A flood of other questions rushed through my mind. How long had he been there? Had he tipped off any others or was he a greedy arsehole who wanted a scoop? Had he seen me with Alyssa and Phoebe—had he gotten a photo of Alyssa and me? Of Phoebe?

  I walked past where Phoebe and Alyssa were playing together, striding straight back toward the beach.

  “Dec, what is—” Alyssa’s question died on her lips, no doubt seeing the direction I was headed and making the connection. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she said. I heard her splashing behind me and figured she was following me.

  I stopped midstride and spoke to her without meeting her eye. “Just wait here for a few minutes and then leave the beach. Pretend you don’t know me and make your way back to the car. I’ll deal with the vulture and meet you there.”

  “Dec . . .” Her voice trailed after me.

  “No, Lys. I won’t hurt him, and I won’t do anything stupid, but I don’t want him hassling Phoebe. She doesn’t need it. Not yet. Just trust me, please?”

  “Okay.”

  I was already walking again before I heard her confirmation that she’d follow my instructions.

  The pap started to back away when he saw I was making a beeline for him.

  You’d better run, fucker! I wanted so desperately to shout the words, but I bit back on them so that I didn’t cause more problems for myself. The last thing I needed was yet another article about how I couldn’t control my temper. But what type of sicko followed someone around on a family day to the beach, for fuck’s sake?

  By the time I was out of the water, the pap had turned his back completely and was heading up the sand away from the crowd. The fucker had the lead, but didn’t count on the fact that I was fit and had plenty of stamina. More than some skinny-arsed dipshit photographer, at least. Despite the lingering injuries from my crashes, I was certain I could catch him. Especially because I wasn’t willing to let the fuckwit get away with stalking my family. As soon as my feet hit the dry sand, I sprinted in his direction. Each time my bare feet hit the sand, a spray of sand kicked up behind me, no doubt hitting the tourists and sunbathers lying on the beach, but I didn’t give a shit.

  “Hey!” I shouted after him, hoping he’d turn and see that I was gaining ground. I wanted to see the blind panic in his eyes as he saw how close I was. “Hey you!”

  People around us turned to look in my direction, no doubt wondering who the hell the crazy man running along Bondi Beach was, and why he was screaming at the man with a camera.

  “You wanted a photo of Declan Reede, didn’t you?” I shouted louder. “Well, take your fucking photo.” I slowed my pace and held my arms out in invitation.

  More heads whipped around in our direction. The crowd was more tourists than locals, so I didn’t think they were paying attention to my name—just my shouting.

  “Come on, you coward, turn and take my fucking picture now.”

  Even though I’d stopped running, by the time he reached the boardwalk, I was practically on top of him. I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face me. The kid was at least six inches shorter than me, and easily half my weight. It would almost be unfair to pummel him to dirt, but that was all I wanted to do. The only thing stopping me was the promise I’d made Alyssa.

  “What’s the matter?” I snapped, getting in his face to intimidate him. “Don’t you want a fucking close-up? You’d rather take long-range photos like some sort of peeping fucking Tom, would you?”

  “I—I’m just doing my job.” He held his hands up in the air in surrender, his camera aloft and his face turned away as if he expected me to strike at any moment. A week ago, I probably would have, and even now it was damn tempting. If only he hadn’t been quite so pathetic.

  “Well, now your job needs to be taking happy-snaps of any-fucking-one else but me, do you understand that? If I see you around again, there will be issues.”

  “I just go where I’m told. I don’t make the decisions.”

  I curled up my nose and laughed at the coward. “Well, how about you decide to grow a pair and say no for once.”

  “Why would I? It wouldn’t make a difference.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I refuse, she’ll just send someone else.”

  “She?” My heart pounded against my ribcage at the word. “What fucking she? Paige?”

  “Who? What?”

  “Did Paige Wood put you up to this?” I asked again. When he didn’t respond straight away, I grabbed his collar. “Is she the one who sent you here?”

  “The owner of Wood Racing?” His face twisted with confusion. “What’s she got to do with anything?”

  The hope that I’d stumbled onto someone who could provide evidence of a set-up fell as quickly as it had been inflated. I used the hold I had to push him away from me. “Which she, then?”

  “T. My fucking boss, you lunatic.”

  “Well, you tell T from me that she and all of her lackeys can kindly back the fuck off, won’t you?” I stepped back and the look of relief on the kid’s face would have been comical in any other situation. He must have seen I would be behaving myself; or at least that his face wasn’t in any immediate danger of an introduction to my fists. “If she dares send anyone after me or my family again, I’ll fucking make her pay.”

  Clearly feeling safer than he had when I’d chased him down, he laughed as he turned away. “You really don’t get how this works, do you?” He spun back around to glance at me once more. He raised another camera, one with a shorter lens, and snapped a few photos as he walked backward a few steps. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. As long as the public are willing to read about the many and varied ways you fuck things up, someone will be there to document it in pictures. The sooner you accept that fact, the happier we all can be.”

  Even though I recognised the truth in his words, I refused to acknowledge it. I moved closer to him and held up my finger in warning. As much as I wanted to smack the smarm off his face, I forced my temper down. “Just stay the hell away from me.”

  “That’s not gonna happen, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Maybe next time, I’ll focus on photos of that sweet, sweet arse that you’re tapping. Or should I say, tapping for now.”

  Unable to control myself any longer, I charged after him. He whirled around and snapped another photo—one of my fist flying at his camera. Once he had the shot, he ducked to the side and narrowly avoided my punch.

  Fuck. The whole running-scared act had clearly been a fucking set-up to try to get more incriminating photos. The smug expression he wore, with a wolfish grin and eyes set in challenge, confirmed it.

  “There’s the money shot.” With a laugh, he turned his back on me. “See you tomorrow, Reede,” he shot back over his sho
ulder. “Keep an eye out for your close-up in the magazines. Click click.”

  It took everything in me to walk away, and by the time I did, my breath came in short, sharp pants. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. There would be no escape from the photographers so long as there was any public interest in me. They would bait me, just like the reporters with less class had tried to over the phone.

  And in this case, I’d fallen for it. Not just hook, line, and sinker, but reel and fucking rod as well.

  Fucking idiot! I kicked the tyre of the nearest car and let loose my irritation.

  All I could think was thank fuck Alyssa and Phoebe were heading back home to Brisbane the following day. As much as I needed them with me, I wanted to spare them the humiliation of being front page features just to sell a magazine or two. I could only hope that returning home would keep them away from prying eyes—at least mostly.

  CHAPTER SIX: LOCKED IN

  I WAS STILL trying to calm myself when I met Alyssa back at the car. She already had Phoebe in her seat and was looking around anxiously for me.

  “Fucking vultures,” I muttered under my breath before forcing my mouth into a smile as I pulled the door open.

  “What happened?” Alyssa asked.

  My smile fell. “Nothing. I told him to piss off.” To stop myself from uttering a hundred other curses that were on the tip of my tongue, I clenched my teeth together until my jaw ached.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

  “Dec,” Alyssa’s voice held an admonishment, no doubt for my swearing.

  I held up my hand just to ask for some time. I needed a moment in my own head, as dangerous a place as that could be.

  “Daddy, where was you?”

  The sound of Phoebe’s voice should have calmed me, but it didn’t. It only reminded me of the fact that I’d have to contend with the fucking paparazzi for the foreseeable future. That they’d be trying to get photos of me fighting, in any compromising position at all, but the money shot—the ultimate prize—would no doubt be a clear photo of me and my daughter.