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I had no idea why, but I really wanted to laugh at her question. Instead, I politely murmured, "That’s me."
"You have a good right hook."
"She doesn’t actually," Aidan countered.
"You’d know, would you? What did you do to piss her off?" Magdalena asked, shooting him a gimlet stare.
Because I could tell the woman liked bullshit as much as I did, I was honest with her. "He told me that instead of being with me for the last five years, he was watching over me."
Magdalena’s brows fluttered. "Watching over you?" she repeated. I felt Aidan grow tense at my side then yelped when she reached up, grabbed him by the ear and hauled him down to her height. "Aidan, did I raise a stalker?"
"No! He wasn’t stalking me!" I cried out, shocked at how she started dragging him down the hall. But it was too late. "His knee!" I warbled, stumbling along after them as Aidan let her,fucking let her, clip him around the ear.
The necktie around my waist made it hard to walk fast as it squished me, so I was breathing heavily by the time we made it into a kitchen.
There were six women sitting at a table who immediately jumped to their feet at the spectacle.
Magdalena stormed toward them, son literally in hand, then she ground out, "Sit down!"
I figured she was talking to Aidan, but the women all obeyed, dropping into their chairs with an immediacy that would have been hilarious if I wasn’t stunned by the turnabout.
Still with her fingers nipping his ear, she forced him to sit down, and I darted over, hands dithering as I tried to figure out how to fix this.
"He didn’t hurt me!" I cried out.
"I didn’t raise no pervert," Magdalena barked.
"Aidan’s not a pervert," a red-headed woman chided.
I cast her a grateful glance, and as my brain tripped into gear, I realized it was Aoife O’Grady.
"He’s not!" I confirmed.
Aidan smirked up at me. "I appreciate your defending my honor, little one. You too, Aoife." It was clear this was not the first time he’d been in a similar position, but Jesus, what if Aidan Sr. came in? Would he do something worse?
Imagining a very bloody Christmas—well, bloodier than whatever was going to happen to the Archbishop of New York—I snapped, "This isn’t a joking matter, Aidan."
He snorted out a laugh. "It’s pretty funny from where I’m sitting."
I growled at him, then to Magdalena rasped, "I promise, he was just watching over me."
"Why did you punch him then?"
"Because I didn’t want him to watch over me. I wanted him to..." I gulped. "...bewith me."
She squinted at me, but didn’t let go of Aidan’s ear, and behind me, I heard someone ask, "Aidan’s smiling. It’s weird."
I twisted around to glare at the table, and realized Jen was there. I scowled at her. "Shut up, you. What are you even doing here? And why didn’t you text me about last night?"
Jen grinned, but a shadow invaded her expression at that last question. At any other time, I’d have been all over that, but the situation was dire, and my breathing was still out of whack.
"Aoife invited me. Said I couldn’t spend the holidays alone worrying about my impending bankruptcy."
"I think we should get back to the matter at hand," another woman retorted, and when I shot her a look, I blinked when I recognized Camille Vasov, purportedly the latest O’Donnelly bride. She slipped out of her seat, moved over to Magdalena and gently cuffed the woman’s wrist. "Let go, Magdalena. You know Aidan isn’t a pervert."
Magdalena’s mouth tightened. "Five years she said he was watching over her. Aidan O’Donnelly Jr. who set you up as a guardian angel?" She finally let go of his ear, and I winced with relief when he straightened his head, and wiggled his neck a little.
"I could say God, but you’re not Da so I don’t think you’d accept that as a legitimate excuse."
