Especially now that she had met with Niall again. For twins, they couldn’t be more different. Niall oozes a calmness. An air of confidence only someone who had it easy in life could have. And, even without the money, style and grace his brother carried, Declan knows that Niall will always be better than him. He looks better, almost perfect. And it isn’t just the grooming that does it.

There is something just a few degrees off in the symmetry of Declan’s face compared to his brother. Something not quite appealing in the smallest difference in the length of their noses, the exact shade of grey in their eyes. Declan is like a factory second version of Niall, a fact that he has never been able to escape.

And now, despite his warnings, Ingrid Devlin appears to have been taken in by his brother’s charm, too. What will he have to do to get her to listen to him? How can he prove that Niall is not a good option? He has nothing to offer that could persuade anyone he is the better catch. Women don’t see past Niall’s charm and finery, his toned body and his shiny shoes.

They can’t see the real him.

What else does Declan have to do to prove he can protect her? He’d wanted to offer her a shoulder to cry on last night. That was why he had gone to her flat. Sure, he had lied. He didn’t have any leads. He made up all that rubbish about the drug dealers, and she’d known it. She had seen right through him. He’d wanted to own up to her there and then. To laugh it off, maybe. ‘Okay, you’ve got me. I’m lying. I don’t know anything new – I just want to check that you’re okay.’

Would she have reacted any differently if he had?

Even though he knows it is empty, he opens the door to the freezer compartment in his fridge anyway, hoping there might be something hiding in the back of it that he can use to bring down the swelling in his hand.

There isn’t, of course.

His fridge is a virtual wasteland, too. Some milk, butter, half a packet of back bacon and a block of cheese that is going hard around the edges. He’d like to see what Ready Steady Cook could do with those ingredients.

That thought raises a smile, but only the briefest of ones. Because his hand still hurts, and he swears it is swelling more and more by the second – and, for all he knows, Ingrid is still with Niall, listening to his twisted version of events and deciding that Declan is a man she should avoid at all costs.

He hates his brother. In that moment, he hates him with every single cell and fibre of his being.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ingrid