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“Good. I was thinking I’d drop by as well.”
He doesn’t look at me as the driver pulls out into traffic.
Chapter11
Gareth
Itry to do some work. I force myself to concentrate for an hour, but every time I find myself getting into a groove,shepops back into my head.
Fiona. My assistant.
I didn’t think much of her when the recruiter, a woman named Janine I met in college, brought her to me. “She’s smart and really needs a gig, but she’s young. Will that be an issue?”
I didn’t think so at the time. The interviews went well, Fiona was poised and intelligent, and I really needed a new assistant. I couldn’t keep scaring them away by being too demanding.
So I hired her. I took it easy in those first few weeks. I didn’t push too hard, just to make sure she didn’t panic.
Look where that got me.
Fucked, no two ways about it.
I knew she was trouble the second she waltzed into my office looking like heaven in heels. I can’t deny I find the girl attractive—she has the kind of body she clearly works on—but I try to make it a point not to get entangled at work. My job is my life, and I prefer to keep everything neat and tidy.
I don’t get attached. I don’t do romance.
Except now I’m married.
Funny how that happens.
I manage a solid ten minutes of uninterrupted work when there’s a knock at the door. It opens before I call out, Fiona entering first, followed by Liam Crowley.
I sit back, trying not to look like someone just kicked me in the teeth.
What thefuckis Crowley doing here? And why is he with Fiona?
“Hello, husband,” she says, giving me the biggest, fakest fucking smile in the entire goddamn world. “Look who I found.”
“Wife,” I say, eyebrows raising. “And Mr. Crowley.”
“Liam,” he grunts, still standing, eyes narrowed. Looking like he’s scoping my office out. As if he’s not sure any of this is real.
What’s this crazy fucker up to?
Fiona comes over, around my desk, stoops down, and plants a chaste kiss on my lips.
Oh, absolutely not.
My heart races as something takes hold of me. This is my wife—my woman—and Liam Crowley’s standing there in my office watching like he’s judging everything we do.
I will take her and own her. I will mark her asmine, so that bizarre Irish gangster doesn’t get any ideas.
I reach out, grab her by the back of the neck, and hold her still as I kiss her for real.
If I’m going to use her as my wife, I’m going to do it properly.
She’s let out a soft little yelp of surprise, but I kiss her deep and slow. I taste her bottom lip, and yes, she fucking whimpers all right. I smother any protest she might have, smother it with my tongue, my taste. God damn, the girl can kiss.
I’ll make sure to mention that later.
