And I’m feeling vaguely flustered that Declan’s trying to give me a credit card for my personal use, when he knows I can’t give him anything in return. My family isn’t involved in Hollywood, and it’s not like he needs money.
“Thanks, but I can’t do that,” I say, running my suddenly damp hands down my dress.
“It’s no big deal. I’d like to do it for you.” He adds, “If it bugs you that much, you can pay me back later.”
“It isn’t that. I’m just not used to accepting money from people in general.”
“You take money from your family.”
“Family isn’t ‘people in general.’”
He is getting a stubborn gleam in his eyes. “I’m not ‘people in general,’ either. Besides, I like spending money on people I care about.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t know my nephews and niece well enough to say that.”
“I wasn’t talking about them.” His voice is soft as he levels his gaze on mine.
My heart does a little dance, and I feel slightly lightheaded. Is he trying to say he cares about me? Maybe I shouldn’t have had the wine this late, because it’s making it hard to think.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay. And if money can do that, well, why not? That’s why I make money in the first place. To splurge on people I like.” He clears his throat and shifts a little.
I don’t respond because my sleep-deprived and sluggish brain is trying to process what he just said. I think what he feels is more than just “caring about me.” I’m pretty certain he’s saying he likes me, although that seems to make him feel slightly awkward from the way he’s clearing his throat now. He’s not used to saying things like this, is he? It’s sweet, and it makes my heart flutter.
And I think I like him, too.
“Thank you, but it’s okay,” I say. “You already did enough.”
“I did?”
“Uh-huh. You spent your entire Friday evening and night and Saturday morning with me. That means a lot.” The words slip out before I can catch myself.
“Anybody would’ve done that,” he says, his eyes soft and gentle.
“I don’t know that many who would’ve.” I glance away, wistful. Then, after a moment of looking out into the darkness, I turn back to him. “Most wouldn’t.”
I know from the way he’s frowning at me that I’m not wearing the right mask right now. My mouth is probably set in a sad line. I force myself to smile.
“Well, they’re idiots, then,” he says tersely.
My smile turns genuine. I’ve been told my needs are too clingy more than once. By Eugene. And other chaebol heiresses I hang out with. Husbands are supposed to have ambitions. And those don’t include coddling high-maintenance wives. Every second of their lives should be allocated to expanding their financial empires. Or building their careers and realizing their ambitions.
Even my parents… Well, Dad loves Mom and makes sure to take time to do things with her, but he also spends more energy on Hae Min than anything else. If I had to put it into numbers, I’d say ninety percent of his energy goes to Hae Min and the rest for Mom and us.
At least Dad wouldn’t be so cold and unfeeling if Mom were to get into an accident. But that’s setting the bar damn low.
&
nbsp; “Maybe you’re right,” I say softly.
Declan nods. “I am right. You shouldn’t let them bring you down. They aren’t worth it, and you deserve better.”
My heart grows full over how firmly and explicitly Declan tells me I deserve what I want.
I move, purely on instinct. There’s a magnetic pull between us that I can’t resist.
My lips brush against his, the touch featherlight. I do it again, our breath mingling, tickling my cheeks. But instead of making me want to giggle, it makes me hot. His mouth is firm but soft. I like the masculine texture of it, the slightly scratchy feel of his jaw against my skin.
Declan goes still for a second, then tilts his head and draws me in, pressing more firmly. His lips part. His tongue invades.