Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  “He’ll be here next Saturday.”

  “Fine. I’ll call Flynn to see if he wants to come around for pizza, just like old times.”

  I clenched my jaw and glared at her. She was playing a game: she’d see the friend I didn’t like if I saw the one she didn’t. Two could play at that game though. “Fine. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

  “I’m sure we will. Phoebe loves spending time with Flynn.” Something behind me caught her gaze and her eyes widened in shock.

  I understood a second later when Phoebe’s excited voice cried, “Flynn’s here? Yay!”

  Hearing her enthusiasm at seeing the fucker who, for all legal purposes, was still regarded as her father was too much. I stormed from the room. Even if it hadn’t been intentional, it pissed me off that Alyssa used Phoebe to hurt me just because I wanted to spend some time with someone from my other life. I intended to go straight to Alyssa’s room to get some space and cool off, but when I passed Phoebe’s open door, I stopped in my tracks. Remembering our conversation in Sydney, I knew she’d likely assume any anger I showed was her fault.

  With two deep breaths to centre myself, I turned back to head to the kitchen again. A fake smile was on my lips as I watched Alyssa explaining that Flynn wasn’t there now, but they’d invite him around for dinner on Saturday.

  Alyssa glanced up at me, an apology in her gaze. My smile became more genuine and I mouthed the word, “Sorry,” back at her.

  “Phoebe, what do you say we go to the park this afternoon?” I asked. “We need to get out of the house for a while, don’t you think?”

  Seeing her enthusiasm over something so simple made me glad I’d made the suggestion. After Alyssa ordered her to find some shoes, Phoebe disappeared from the room.

  “Do you think there’ll ever be a day where we don’t argue about something?” I asked.

  “Who was arguing?” Alyssa asked with a chuckle.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. And probably not. But that’s what life is about. It’s not about agreeing about everything, it’s how we act after each disagreement that’s going to make a difference. “

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me hanging with Morg next weekend?”

  “I guess I don’t. I mean, if you can deal with me hanging with Flynn, I can extend the same courtesy, right?”

  I nodded, but used the opportunity to redirect to another issue I’d been meaning to raise with her but hadn’t. “You know what burns me the most there?”

  “What?”

  “That it’s still Flynn’s name on the certificates.”

  “Shit, we were going to fix that, weren’t we? Sorry, Dec, there’s just been so much going on. I hadn’t even thought—”

  “I understand, Lys. I really do, but now . . . I don’t know. I guess I want the world to know she’s mine. To celebrate that fact.”

  “The world hardly looks at birth certificates.”

  “You know what I mean. How do we do it?”

  She nodded. “It’ll probably be best if we have DNA tests done to make sure there are no hiccups in the process. That’ll be undeniable proof that there was a mistake on the original certificates.”

  “Won’t that paint you as some sort of hussy who slept with more than one man and didn’t know the real father?”

  A laugh slipped past her lips. “Hussy? Really, does anyone even use that word anymore, Dec?”

  Ignoring her remark, I pressed my question. “But you’re okay with people thinking that?” If she was hesitant or worried about it, she didn’t show it.

  “It’s better if the world thinks that, considering the alternative is that I falsified a legal document, which is much worse, especially when I’m supposed to be getting into law soon.”

  “There were extenuating circumstances though.”

  “I know. It’s stupid. I would’ve preferred to keep it blank, but there was just too much paperwork for me to cope with on my own. I was drowning and all I wanted to do was sink under it all. If it hadn’t been for Phoebe needing me and Flynn supporting me however he could, I don’t think I would’ve kept afloat.”

  My heart broke listening to her and once again, I wondered whether I’d ever fully understand just how hard that time was for her. All of my pain—all of the agony that had torn through me after learning the truth—was removed from the heartbreaking events by time and distance.

  “Can we play soccer ’gain, Daddy?” Phoebe asked as she came running back into the room with a pair of pink sandals with Velcro straps on her feet.

  Alyssa swiped her fingers under her eyes, wiping tears that I hadn’t even seen fall. A smile lifted her lips and the mask was back in place. I wrapped my hand around hers and led them both out to the car. We could have walked, but it would have been well after dark before we got home, and I for one didn’t plan on fighting away the mozzies and midges. Plus, it was easier hiding from the pap in a car.

  Later that night, Alyssa jumped online and booked to have DNA testing done and also started the process of amending the birth certificates. I had no idea how we’d get to the facility without the paparazzo following us, but we’d deal with that when it came.

  Slowly, but surely, the pieces were coming together.

  WHEN WE woke Monday, it was with a little trepidation, because the Woman’s Idea article was due to hit the stands within twenty-four hours. It could only go three ways. Either it’d go over well with the sponsors and public, and things would start to turn away from the constant negative press, it would be slammed as nothing more than a publicity stunt, or it would be ignored completely by everyone. As much as I hoped for the former, I thought it was much more likely to be the latter. People just didn’t seem to buy the magazines for the happy stories, only the fucked-up ones.

  I just hoped that the bastards who’d set me up so far didn’t take it as an excuse for a renewed attack, but there was little I could do about it.

  Around lunchtime, the calls started.

  For me, it was Eden first, calling to congratulate me. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d already seen the article when I’d emailed it to Danny. When I confronted her about it she just laughed and said that it looked better in the full-gloss magazine.

  Then it was a few other drivers I’d been on the track with. Each one told me that their wives or girlfriends had purchased the magazine and shown them—even the ones that I was certain had neither a wife nor a girlfriend—and that they wanted to offer me their support.

  For Alyssa, it started with her mother. Ruth called and gushed over the article, spouting about how happy she was to see us so happy. So in love. She demanded we investigate the possibility of getting some of the photos for her too.

  Around four, my phone rang again with a Brisbane number. The first person that sprang to mind was my cockhead father. Considering his little bit on the side—if they were even still together—was so heavily into the gossip magazines, I had no doubt she’d have seen the cover with Alyssa and me staring into each other’s eyes with a hunger and need that was unmistakable. I wondered what he would have thought about the proceeds being donated to charity. He was probably having conniptions over the fact that we’d never see a cent.

  Good.

  With the expectation that he was the one calling, I moved away from Alyssa and Phoebe and answered the phone with a, “What do you want?”

  “Declan, wonderful article in Woman’s Idea. Absolutely darling!” The voice wasn’t the one I was expecting. Instead, the smooth tones of a female voice filled my ear.

  “Ms. Wood.” Even though she wasn’t exactly top of my list to talk to, it would at least give me a chance to put my plan in place.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered your position on the driver role I have here for you? It’s ripe and ready for the plucking if you want it.”

  I glanced through the window at my family. Fuck, Alyssa would be pissed if she knew what I was about to do, but I didn’t have much choice. I had to
do what I could to look out for my family. And that meant finding a way to show the haters and the doubters, the ones who’d try to hurt us and pull us apart, that we were as solid as a fucking rock and that they would be better off backing the fuck off rather than push me. “Yeah, actually I have. And I’m definitely considering it.”

  “You are?” It was the reason she’d called, and yet she sounded surprised as fuck at my answer.

  “Yeah. It’s just, well, I was wondering whether you might be able to do something for me before we talked more about it.”

  “Anything.” She was almost too eager. Something told me things weren’t as rosy at Wood Racing as she’d have everyone believe.

  “Have you got tickets to the New Year’s Masquerade Ball?” I figured she would; they usually went to all the local charity events, and even Sinclair Racing came up to Brisbane every year for the event. It was the reason I’d even been there, and how I’d hooked up with Darcy. Even if they didn’t, I figured if things were so bad that she needed star power enough to launch the dirty campaign against me, she’d do whatever it took to get the tickets I wanted.

  “We have a table.”

  “I’d like to come along and discuss my options with you there, if you’re attending. I think it’s fitting, don’t you? Considering that we might be unmasking my future in the sport and all that.”

  “Of course, and I assume you will need more than one ticket?”

  “Yeah, one other. Can, uh, can you send it out for me though? I have a different woman in mind and don’t want to have to explain that to anyone else.”

  “Trouble in paradise already, young Declan? Is your girl not woman enough for you?”

  I forced a laugh. “You know how it is. There’s only so much you can drink from the same well without craving a different taste. And what my family doesn’t know won’t hurt them, right?” Even saying the words made me feel sick. I was trying so damn hard to implicate myself without saying anything that would be regarded as concrete evidence if she were recording the conversation—I wouldn’t put it past her—but I had to give her enough to be convincing.

  “I can appreciate that. Why do you think I’ve never stayed married for long?” She gave her throaty, I’m-so-sexy laugh that probably would have made old me’s dick stand on end. Instead, my cock hung flaccid between my thighs, waiting to come alive at Alyssa’s command. “So where can I send the other ticket?”

  I gave her Darcy’s address. “And can you send a note with it?”

  “Of course. Anything for my new star driver.”

  It was almost too fucking easy. “Okay, I want it to read, ‘It might not be New Year’s but I’m humbly requesting a do-over. DR.’ Have you got that?”

  “Every word. I don’t suppose I can tempt you to come in to see me earlier and start on some of the negotiations?”

  “Sorry, Paige,” I said her name with as much honey in my voice as I could muster. “Alyssa has been watching me like a hawk while she plans her move to Sydney. She’s agreed to let me find out more about this ball because it’s for charity. Besides, it’s not that far away anyway.”

  “Can I take it that this, Alyssa was it? That she’s moving to Sydney regardless of where you drive?”

  “That’s right. But I’ve gotta have my own priorities sorted, right? I’d be an idiot to throw away something so important over something so insignificant.” Not one word was a lie. It was hardly my fault that Paige would interpret it to mean that I wouldn’t leave a job for a relationship and not the other way around.

  “I think that’s very reasonable. I’m sure if it’s needed, I can find you some accommodation near headquarters until you’re back on your feet.”

  I could imagine. The room would probably come with an all-you-can-eat Paige Wood buffet. A shudder ran down my spine at the thought. How could I have ever had the slightest interest in her when I had someone like Alyssa waiting for me the whole time?

  After we’d said goodbye, I headed inside. Phase one of getting revenge on those who’d tried to ruin my life was set. Morgan would help with the planning of phase two on the weekend. Then all I had to do was wait for the pieces to fall into place. In the meantime, there was little more I could do but keep organising our move and doing what I could to look out for my family.

  “Everything okay?” Alyssa asked around Phoebe, who was curled against her chest, fast asleep.

  “Perfect,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: TESTING

  THE DAYS SLIPPED away like laps at Bathurst, each one passing in a blur as a set-up for the next big one. The move, the ball—Christmas—everything was so close, and barrelling down the straight far too fast.

  It was amazing just how quickly time went with them at my side. More amazing was how fast I’d settled into the whole domestic scene that I’d once avoided like the plague. Existing on a diet of takeout and booze had been fine when I was single, but it wasn’t like Alyssa or Phoebe could, or should, live the same way. While Alyssa cooked most nights, there were some nights I had to. The ones where she was at work, it was step up to the plate or risk a super-tantrum from a hungry toddler. Given a choice between the stove and Phoebe, I knew which one I was more willing to fight.

  Because Alyssa only worked a few nights a week, Phoebe didn’t need to go to day care anymore, and I had no other place I needed to be, we spent most of our time together. We went to the park as often as we could, and tried to ensure Phoebe had as much quality time with both of us as she could, considering we had no idea what to expect when our lives started over again in Sydney.

  I was so determined to make the most of our time in Brisbane that I arranged playdates for Phoebe with Ben and his kids. We even managed a dual family outing to the movies one day. It ended up as a disaster because none of the kids would sit still long enough to get through the movie, but it was a good day anyway.

  Outside of that though, Alyssa and I mostly cleaned and packed her house. I had no idea there was so much involved. When I’d moved to Sydney, I had a suitcase full of clothes, and that was about it. Everything else stayed with Mum and Dad.

  As the days had gone by, Alyssa’s place had become less and less a home, and more and more just a house, as every bit of personality was stripped away and boxed up. We were constantly busy, but it still felt like there was a pause button over our lives, as if they wouldn’t truly begin until the new year. Until we were all settled into our new life in Sydney.

  The closer it got to the day Alyssa and Phoebe would be moving in with me permanently, the air between Alyssa and me seemed to grow thicker. Or maybe I just imagined it because of the blanket of guilt I’d wrapped myself in ever since the phone call with Paige.

  Even though I probably should have told Alyssa of my plan, I didn’t. I was certain she’d only tell me to stop. Only because she didn’t understand. She’d already moved on, and had said she was happy it was all behind us now. That she was ready to move on with the next part of our life.

  As much as I wanted what she said to be true, it wasn’t for me. Mostly because she didn’t need revenge like I did. She was too forgiving, but I couldn’t be. Not when our future happiness could be attacked. I needed everyone who’d hurt her—who’d tried to hurt me—to burn. I needed to look in the eyes of every person who’d tried to bring me down—and very damn near succeeded—and show them all how happy I was. How happy we both were.

  If I didn’t make them pay, how could I ever really be free? When the tables finally turned, and I had them crushed and disappointed at my feet, maybe then I could let it go and move on in peace. Even though I couldn’t bring Alyssa in on the plan, I was certain she’d thank me once it had all gone down. She’d be just as happy as me to rub their noses in the fact that they’d not only failed to bring us down but had given us the chance to be stronger than anyone could have imagined.

  After all, if Tillie and Talia hadn’t run that first article, Alyssa and I might have never been forced together on the plane to London. I would never
have learned the truth about Phoebe and Emmanuel, and we certainly wouldn’t be planning to move all of her shit into my house.

  In just a few more weeks.

  Around the family stuff, my night out with Morgan had come and gone in a flash. Just like he’d promised, he’d played his part perfectly, getting me a pair of tickets to the New Year’s Masquerade Ball, and booking a room at the Suncrest, where the ball was being held this year.

  He’d had another surprise for me too. Tickets to the last race of the season. “I can’t exactly celebrate stealing the championship from you without you there, can I?” he’d said as he’d given me the details and insisted I attend. It was close to my house, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about accommodation.

  Telling Alyssa about the trip was a dance around our feelings. A part of her obviously wanted me to go because I wanted it so badly, but it was also clear she didn’t want me to go. Because of that, there was a part of me that wanted to stay, even though I really wanted to be back at the track again. Neither of us wanted to disappoint the other, but she’d ended up winning—and losing at the same time. As much as I wanted to stay for her, I couldn’t say no to her when she told me to go.

  Because I was going to be away for three days, and we still had to arrange the changes to the birth certificates, we’d planned a day in the city with just the two of us. Only the day before, we’d got the DNA results—which came back exactly as expected. I was Phoebe’s father, not that there’d ever been even the tiniest doubt.

  “She’ll be fine,” I said reassuringly as Alyssa stared out the Prado window at her parents’ house. We’d just dropped Phoebe off to spend the day with them while we went into the city to organise all the shit we needed to do to lodge the forms to update Phoebe’s birth certificate.

  Alyssa had agreed when I suggested I should wait in the car while she got Phoebe settled. The last time I’d been at the house was the disastrous reunion that had resulted in Josh and Curtis cornering me against the side of their house and trying to run me out of town, Wild West style. Considering it had almost worked, I understood Alyssa’s ready approval of my request.