Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

QUINN

I have cursed Layla nearly every day this week. As I watch the movers grab the last box from the entryway, I swear silently once more about the situation she's put me in.

Not that she is even remotely aware of what she's done .

And not that I plan to tell her.

When I finish, I take a moment to silently berate myself. As much as Layla is the one who insisted I become Fiona's nanny, I'm the one who could have denounced the whole idea. What scares me is that part of me wanted this—because I could have said no. I had almost a week to get out of this.

But I didn't.

And then again, neither did Declan.

"We'll head straight to your new place with your things, ma'am," the guy in charge of the moving crew explains. "Are you sure you don't want a ride over there?"

"No. Uh…I mean…no, thank you," I fumble through the rejection of his offer. While he seems nice, and I am certain he means well, I'm not getting in the car with a man I don't know. Being alone in this apartment with four strange men was stress-inducing enough. It was made only slightly better by the armed security Tristan sent to make me feel safer. "I actually have a friend waiting for me downstairs."

He nods before responding, "Just didn't want to leave you stranded. We'll start unloading as soon as we get across town."

After giving my keys to the super and collecting my security deposit, which I will be forcing Declan to let me give to him in exchange for paying off the remaining months on my lease, I head out to the front of the building. Waiting for me in a large, black Suburban are two of the security guys who work for the Evans. The guy previously in my apartment is behind the wheel. A big, redheaded guy— I think his name is Rory— climbs from the passenger seat and opens the rear door of the Suburban for me. "Do you need to make any stops on the way?" he gruffly asks as I slide across the black leather.

I shake my head to answer, and he shuts the door. The moment he retakes his seat upfront and closes his own door, we begin our drive toward Midtown. As usual, it's silent with the exception of the bustling city traffic around us. For what these men have in muscles and their ability to keep us all safe, they definitely lack in conversation skills. I don't even try to hold small talk with the security guys anymore. I'd be better off talking to the back of the seat.

When we pull up to Declan's building, Rory immediately opens my door. I slide out and stand on the sidewalk and stare up at the massive skyscraper before me. This luxurious apartment building is a far cry from the historic, four-story one in Throggs Neck that I've called home for the past three years. "Miss?" Rory's deep voice startles me, immediately drawing my attention. "It's best if we get you inside and off the street."

While I am provided withvery sparse details, I am fully aware that the war between the Evans and the Bratva is still in full swing. The news runs rampant with shootings and building fires. Not a day goes by that the boys are always riddled with bruises, bloodied knuckles, and, I'm sure, other wounds I'm not privy to.

I'm also not na?ve . The blood of one Bratva man is on my hands, and as hard as they tried, I didn't die that night in the bar like I was supposed to. I am both unfinished business and a walking reason for vengeance. My security detail isn't just for my comfort; it's for my protection. Eventually, they will come for me.

Rory follows me into the building and, subsequently, the elevator. He reaches around me and presses the button for Declan's floor. Turning to face him, I sarcastically ask, "You moving in too? Will I at least be getting my own room? Or do you need to stay close enough that we will be sharing that, too?"

"You know I have to make sure you get upstairs," he responds. He stares at me for a moment before imparting, "You do also know this is only going to get worse, right?"

"Worse?" I ask, my voice rising a few octaves in confusion. I am already followed everywhere , forbidden from using the subway, have men standing outside my building, and God knows what else. How could it possibly be worse?

Rory pauses briefly, and I can't help but think he is hesitating because he knows he's crossing a line. "Declan has more security on that little girl than the president. You probably didn't notice them because he has asked for discretion, so she doesn't know we're around. There are men on the street, in the lobby, patrolling his floor and the stairwells. Security cameras that cover nearly every inch of his home are monitored twenty-four-seven. A fly couldn't land on her without someone knowing."

The weight of what he's saying hits me like a ton of bricks. "You mean…" I mumble.

" You now have all of us following you and watching every move you make."

Marvelous…

Apparently, I should have asked a few more questions about this job. I'm about to push Rory for more information when the elevator dings and the doors open to the moderately-sized foyer that Declan shares with one other apartment. The space is currently crowded with piles of boxes filled with my belongings and a few smaller pieces of furniture that I didn't have the movers put in storage.

Declan steps through the open door of his apartment with unusually disheveled hair, wearing nothing but a pair of baggy gray sweatpants strung low around his hips. My eyes rake over him, and I gulp so hard at the sight that I hope it isn't audible. Pushing forty, he still has pronounced pecs and well-chiseled abs. I try to stop myself, but my eyes continue to roam over them to the lines of his Adonis belt, straight to the very defined outline at the front of his sweats.

"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to grab a box and let me show around the place?" Declan's gruff voice immediately draws my attention when it has a hint of playfulness to it. I lift my gaze to find his blue eyes staring at me with feigned disapproval and a coy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Fucking hell…

First day, and he's caught me ogling him. And worse, I think he likes it.

This was a really fucking bad idea.