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Magical.
What started out as horribly fake is turning into something real.
And I can’t wait to walk down the aisle toward my husband.
Chapter Two
Perry
Ialmost lostmy shit the moment Louisa Lancaster slammed the door in my face, but I restrained myself. She’s my almost-mother-in-law and I’m not about to act like a dick toward her on my wedding day.
But damn it, I want to talk to Charlotte.
Now.
She sounded so frantic, so damn scared when she called me. She threw me into a full-force panic and I raced back to the hotel to be with her. All I wanted to do was hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. That’s it.
Yet I couldn’t get past the barrier that was her domineering mother.
What the fuck kind of weakling am I?
Checking my phone, I see I have a text from Charlotte and I send her a quick response.
Call me as soon as you get this.
I can’t get over how terrified she sounded on the phone. Frantic. Breathing hard and with her voice shaking. What did this asshole do to her? Say to her? Who is he? I don’t necessarily recognize the name, though I know McTiernans are part of the Morelli family. And I don’t keep as close tabs on them like my brother does. He knows every single one of them by sight, even the insignificant ones.
Like the McTiernans.
They’ve just become more significant to me, that’s for damn sure.
By the time I’m in my car and headed back to the apartment I don’t even own so I can get ready for a wedding that originally wasn’t of my choosing, I’m on the phone with my brother, digging for information.
“What do you think of Seamus McTiernan?” I ask the moment Winston answers.
He’s quiet for a moment, as if he has to dip into the dark recesses of his deviant mind to come up with an answer.
“I don’t.”
That’s it. That’s his final answer.
“I’ve never even heard of this asshole,” I mutter, hitting the horn when someone cuts in front of me in traffic.
“He’s a quiet member of the family. From Ireland originally, though last I heard, he was living in Paris and teaching.” Winston snorts. “In other words, a commoner, doing God knows what and molding impressionable young minds.”
He says it with a sneer in his voice, and I almost want to laugh. Anyone who works what Winston regards as a basic job is beneath him. Like a teacher.
“He was a professor at some college,” Winston continues. “Though I don’t believe he works there anymore.”
The lightbulb moment hits me so swiftly, I swerve my steering wheel to the right, the car veering into the next lane and nearly hitting the SUV next to me. The driver honks and gives me the finger as I speed away, irritation filling me.
Consuming me.
Seamus doing God knows what while in Paris? I could tell Winston exactly what.
That fucker wasdoingmy fiancée.
Paris. Charlotte. Her mystery dark-haired lover.
