Sweet Pretense

Inside the dimly lit marital suite, Kendall had just managed to snuggle her exhausted body into the thin blankets on the uncomfortable leather couch. Her muscles ached from the emotional toll of the day. The room settled into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the central heating. Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the wood, shattering the quiet.

She jerked her upper body upright, her eyes wide with panic. She peered through the darkness toward the large bed where Declan lay. "Did you remember to lock the door?" she whispered urgently.

Before Declan could form a response or move to check, a muffled voice drifted through the heavy oak door.

"Mr. Declan, it's me," Greta called out from the hallway, her tone polite but insistent. "Old Mrs. Vance prepared some fresh pudding for you both. I'll be coming in now."

The metallic click of the doorknob turning sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. Driven by pure panic that the maid would discover their sham arrangement and report back to Agnes, Kendall scrambled off the cushions. Her bare feet hit the floor as she grabbed her crumpled blankets. She shoved the bedding deep underneath the frame of the couch to hide the evidence, praying the shadows would conceal them.

Without missing a beat, she sprinted across the carpet and dove headfirst beneath Declan's thick bed covers. She plunged into the dark warmth like a terrified fish seeking shelter, surrounded instantly by the scent of his masculine cologne and the heat radiating from his skin.

In her blind haste to get out of sight, she slammed her head directly into his solid, muscular chest. The impact knocked the wind out of her. Their simultaneous, muffled grunts of pain echoed loud and clear in the still room.

To anyone standing outside, the sudden thud and the accompanying groans carried an unmistakable, amorous weight.

The suggestive noise caused Greta to pause abruptly in the open doorway. She froze, her eyes scanning the dim room. Too afraid to step further inside and interrupt an intimate moment, she cleared her throat. "Mr. Declan? Ms. Kendall?" she asked awkwardly, keeping her gaze lowered. "May I come in?"

Under the covers, Declan stared down at Kendall’s messy hair. She was pressed flush against his body, her breathing erratic. An unreadable look crossed his face. He gritted his teeth, his jaw muscles jumping as he adjusted to her sudden intrusion in his bed.

"Come in," he commanded in a strained voice.

Knowing she had to play along flawlessly to keep the peace, Kendall popped her upper body out from under the heavy sheets. She smoothed down her messy hair with trembling hands and greeted Greta with a bright, forced smile. "Hi, Greta."

She made a move to slip out of the bed, intending to intercept the maid, but Greta shook her head. The maid stepped forward, holding a silver tray bearing a single porcelain bowl. "You don't have to get up. Old Mrs. Vance asked me to make sure you enjoy this. I'll bring it right to you and take the tray once you're finished."

Greta began walking toward the edge of the mattress. Kendall’s internal panic skyrocketed. From her angle on the bed, she could see the hastily hidden couch blankets still partially visible. A corner of the white fabric peeked out from under the dark leather furniture frame. If Greta took another two steps, the secret would be out, and all hell would break loose with his grandparents.

Desperate to stop the maid from walking further into the room, Kendall reached her hand out of sight beneath the thick sheets. Her fingers searched blindly for purchase, aiming to grab his thigh or waist to get his attention. Instead, she ruthlessly pinched him hard to force a reaction.

Her frantic grasp landed directly on his crotch, her fingers clamping down tight on his genitals.

Declan's stoic face instantly twisted into a sudden wince of sheer agony. Dark, furious blood rushed to his pale cheeks as a sharp breath hissed through his teeth. Taking the painful physical hint—and likely wanting to protect himself from further damage—he hastily sat upright in the bed. He extended his long arm, intercepting the heavy tray from Greta before she could take another step forward.

"Pass it to me," Declan managed to say, his voice tight with suppressed pain.

Greta handed it over and stepped back with a relieved smile, blissfully unaware of the chaos under the sheets. "Okay, you can feed her, then."

Declan’s large hands stiffened on the edges of the tray for a long, agonizing second. He glanced down at Kendall, then a dark, amused smirk touched the corners of his thin lips. He deftly balanced the tray on his lap, scooped a large spoonful of the creamy pudding, and slowly held it directly up to Kendall's lips.

Staring blankly at the hovering silver spoon, Kendall felt an awkward flutter of her long-held affection rising in her chest. For three years, she had loved him from afar. Being this close, having him look at her with such focused attention, made her heart betray her. Yet, her cold rationale brutally reminded her that his heart belonged to Chloe. This was just a show for the staff.

She leaned her head back slightly, trying to deflect the intimacy. "I really don't like to eat in bed."

"Oh, please, it's only this one time," Greta pressed from the doorway in dismay. "Mr. Declan has never personally fed anyone food in his life! Don't fuss over it."

Resigned to her fate and the watchful eyes of the maid, Kendall reluctantly parted her lips. She allowed him to feed her the sweet dessert. As they sat close together on the mattress, Declan's large, warm hand brushed against her smooth cheek, his thumb trailing over her skin to wipe away nonexistent crumbs. His touch sent a strange heat across her skin.

Staring intently down at her cherry-red lips, now stained glossy with the sugary dessert, he gulped subtly. His Adam's apple bobbed in the dim light. He held the empty spoon mid-air, his voice dropping an octave. "Is it delicious?"

From the doorway, Greta eagerly chimed in, encouraging the intimacy. "Would you like to try it, too, Mr. Declan?"

Kendall dreaded the prospect of sharing an indirect kiss with him through the spoon. The mere thought made her chest tighten with a mix of fear and forbidden yearning. To prevent him from taking a bite, she snatched the entire porcelain bowl right out of his hands.

She tipped her head back and downed the rest of the pudding in one ungraceful gulp. The sweet, thick liquid slid down her throat before she even registered the taste, leaving the bowl scraped clean.

"It's yummy," she provoked him, raising her delicate brows in a clear, mocking challenge. Her expression explicitly told him he couldn't have any of it.

Caught off guard by her childish reaction, Declan threw his head back and chuckled loudly. The genuinely rare, deep sound filled the room, surprising both Kendall and the maid.

Thoroughly satisfied that her mission was complete, Greta happily collected the empty tray. She quietly backed out of the room, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind her.

Out in the dark corridor, Agnes had been waiting breathlessly. She struggled to keep herself from pressing her ear against the wooden door to eavesdrop. When Greta finally emerged holding the empty bowl, Agnes’s cold eyes sparkled with malicious triumph.

"They finished it?" she demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Yes, Madam," Greta answered softly, looking slightly confused by the sudden interrogation. "But it's a shame that Ms. Kendall is the only one who ate it."

Agnes’s smile widened, her face twisting into a mask of sadistic satisfaction. She knew the powerful aphrodisiac hidden within the sweet dessert would do its job regardless of who consumed it. "It's not a problem at all. As long as he's a functioning man, he won't be able to turn her down once it hits her system." She glanced back at the closed door, already picturing her future grandchild. "Clean the bowl thoroughly right now. Do not leave any traces behind."