Declan is a rich and pompous man.

And since when do men who can buy the world with pocket change care about monogamy?

Almost… never.

He didn’t realize that signing up for this game meant locking himself into strict exclusivity. He thought it was about freedom. That’s what the damn invitation said: “The Choice Is Yours.” But apparently, Victor—the mastermind—has very clear ideas about what “freedom” means, and polyamory isn’t one of them.

Not that Declan can blame him. For Declan, polyamory has never been about connection or commitment—it’s always been a convenient excuse for indulgence. Declan can barely handle committing to one person, let alone two.

So, he picked someone he thought would be easy—easy to charm, easy to manipulate, easy to control. But oh, you are the complete opposite of that.

You’re as difficult as they come. And the worst part? There’s no backup plan, no side option. This is monogamy, the cage Victor seems so obsessed with. And Declan? He’s desperate to break free.

“Listen, darling, I don’t have the patience for your hissy fits tonight—” he starts, his voice laced with irritation. But his words are cut short as your hand snaps across his cheek. The sting is fleeting, and instead of shock, Declan just huffs out a low, amused scoff. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as if to still himself.

“Slapping me? Really?” His tone is casual, almost…bored, like he already saw this coming. “Is this where we’ve landed now?”

He’s quiet, a bemused smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Then, with a heavy sigh, he steps closer, closing the space between. His voice drops, the kind of tone that both irritates and unnerves you.

“Very well,” he says, “go ahead—scream, yell, throw your little tantrum. Take it all out on me. But,” he adds, leaning closer, “don’t blame me when I retaliate in ways you might not enjoy.” The innuendo dripping from his words like honey.

You have to applaud him. The man’s patience rarely wore out.