3. Eoghan
Chapter three
Eoghan
I f it were actually possible to shoot daggers from your eyes, I would be a fileted piece of meat bleeding all over this gaudy electric-blue sofa. Gemma looks about one point three seconds away from reaching over the low glass table between us and strangling me with her bare hands when she spots me sitting and drinking her champagne. Well, it’s not exactly hers . I’ve informed the staff to transfer her bill to my card, and this is a fresh bottle, but still.
After our run-in last week, I’ve been keeping tabs on her. A little light stalking, if you will. Not anything scary or weird, just keeping track of where her credit card is used. Good thing for her, too. When I saw that her card was swiped at this club, I called a couple of my guys, and we decided it was a good night for loud music and a few drinks. This club is relatively new, but it’s the typical gym-rat hangout. Guys like the one she was dancing with are the type to hang out here, and they come with one thing on their mind; I already know it would have ended up with a hangover and a head full of regret for Gemma.
That’s why I’m here. Figured I’d save her the trouble.
“What the hell are you doing drinking my champagne, Eoghan?” Gemma walks over to the table and snatches the bottle sitting in front of me.
“Technically, that bottle was mine,” I reply as she narrows her eyes on me.
“Are you following me?” she spits, and the eyes of the man standing next to her are darting between her and me. Gemma isn’t paying him any mind; her laser-focused gaze is directed squarely at me.
I raise my hands and shrug. “Happy coincidence.” I shoot her a smile, and she rolls her eyes.
“Those seem to be going around lately.” Her brow quirks and her gaze continues to bore into me.
The guy next to her backs up a step. “Uh, should I leave you two alone?”
Gemma shakes her head as I slowly nod. The little vixen grabs his hand and pulls him over to the couch, seating him at the far end. “Ronny, we were just getting to know each other. Don’t pay Eoghan any mind.”
Her smile is fake as hell. I saw her dancing with him when they were downstairs, and she was completely disinterested in the man next to her. This little show is for my benefit.
“Ronny, what do you do for a living?” she asks over the loud music. I pour her a glass of champagne and hold it in front of her. Her eyes flick to me, and she grabs it from my hand. She smiles at the poor sap sitting next to her who has yet to realize he doesn’t have a shot in hell.
“Finance,” Ronny replies.
A snort of derision escapes me. Exactly as I thought. Fucking typical.
Gemma shoots me another narrow-eyed look, and I simply smile in her direction.
“What about you?” Ronny asks Gemma.
“I’m the creative director for Aubine Couture.”
“That’s one of those fancy fashion designers, right? So, what? You look at pictures and decide what goes in magazines and stuff?” he asks.
“Something like that.” Her smile is turning more brittle by the second.
“Sounds easy enough.” His eyes dart around the space as though he isn’t sure if he wants to waste his time here with someone who is anything but a sure thing or if he can salvage his night with someone else.
I don’t miss the way Gemma’s entire demeanor stiffens at his obviously uneducated comment. Not that I understand what her job entails, but I know she has a degree from Yale and is sharp as a fucking tack. If the digging I did hadn’t included her college transcripts, I would have figured it out in the two brief conversations we’ve had because I actually pay attention. Unlike some people, apparently. Gemma is stubborn as hell, though, so she doesn’t show any further outward indication that his take on her profession pissed her off. Instead, she leans in a touch closer and starts asking him inane questions about his job and where he works. If she thinks she’s pissing me off, she’s…right. Ronny’s eyes are now focused on Gemma like she’s a fucking steak and he’s prepping her to be his next meal, and she’s eating it up instead of tearing his balls off. Is that what this stunning creature next to me does? Dumb herself down for the attention of a guy, or is this solely for my benefit?
“Gemma, who’s your friend?” an extremely attractive woman asks as she sits between Gemma and me on the sofa.
“I’m Eoghan Monaghan,” I reply, holding my hand out to the other blonde woman.
“Camille,” she replies, slipping her hand delicately into mine and holding it there as she stares expectantly into my eyes. Does she expect me to kiss it or some shit?
Ronny leans around the women and asks, “Did you say Monaghan?”
I nod and Gemma rolls her eyes. She seems to do that quite a bit around me. “Don’t feed the man’s ego, Ronny.”
“I don’t think there’s any reason for a man like him to not have an ego,” Camille says next to me as she trails her fingers over my arm.
“You run fights in the basements of your bar, right?” Ronny asks.
This dumb fuck. Like I'm going to tell him anything about what I do.
“I do a lot of things, Ronny.”
He nods his head quickly and fucking winks at me like he’s in on some secret. “Right, right. I get it, man.”
Usually it’s my brother who gets annoyed when people are overly casual with him. Tonight, it’s me.
“You’re a fighter?” Camille asks, leaning into my space, now rubbing my bicep with her palm.
“Like I said, I do a lot of things.”
“I’d love to come watch you one of these days. See you in action.” I’m getting the distinct impression she’s not referring to the fights. At least, not only the fights.
Another tall woman who I’ve seen on billboards downtown comes over to the couch.
“Come dance with me,” she says, holding her hand out to Gemma, who smiles broadly at the dark-haired woman. That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen from her tonight.
Camille turns to me. “Let’s dance, handsome.”
She stands and grabs my hand the same time Ronny gets up and follows Gemma to a mostly open area where a couple of my guys are already enjoying the attention of the other models Gemma’s here with.
Instead of Ronny attempting to close the gap between him and Gemma, it’s her. The closer Camille gets to me, the closer Gemma gets to the finance bro in front of her. Interesting. Am I a fan of watching another man so close to the woman I’m here to see? Hell, no. But I'm quite enjoying the challenge in her gaze every time her eyes meet mine then narrow in on Camille. She’s jealous, and that means I’m more than just the annoyance she said I was last week at the gym. I’m well aware of the fact that we’re playing juvenile games, but she started it.
Jesus, get a grip, Eoghan.
This push and pull between me and Gemma goes on for a few minutes as one song melts seamlessly into another. If I ran a club like this, I’d hire the DJ on the spot. But I like my bars dark with old jukeboxes in the corner and plenty of beer and whiskey ready to pour. Not saying I don’t come out and frequent places like this; I’m single as fuck and always planned on staying that way. But lately…I’ve been dreaming of waking up to a blue-eyed woman in my bed. For once, I want more than a quick cup of coffee and a kiss on the way out with every intention of losing the number slipped to me. It’s fucking weird. When I started my little fact-finding mission, I’d met Gemma all of once. Maybe it’s because my brother and his bride told me she’s off-limits. Maybe it’s the thrill of the chase. But there’s something that’s been needling the back of my brain when it comes to the woman dancing feet from me, and I haven’t been able to shake it.
Camille is still writhing against me, but my mind is elsewhere. Right now, I wish I was, too. I’m not a fan of this little game anymore. Camille isn’t the woman I’m interested in being with tonight. She isn’t the reason I came to this too-loud, too-crowded club.
I’m about to gently remove Camille from where she’s attached her entire body to the front of mine when I catch Ronny’s hand moving to Gemma's ass as he leans in for a kiss. She tries to shove him off, but he pulls her tighter against him. I’m about to rip his fucking arm from his body, but before I can make a move, Gemma lifts her foot and plants her spiky heel right on the top of Ronny’s shoe and digs in.
He yelps and pushes her away, but Gemma has plenty of practice staying on her feet so the movement doesn’t cause her to fall. That’s about the only thing saving him from a bullet between the eyes right now.
Stepping away from Camille, I put myself between Ronny and Gemma.
“Fucking bitch,” he spits over my shoulder at the furious blonde.
My fist lands a solid punch to his gut before I grab him by his gelled hair and wrench his head up to meet my eyes, nearly nose to nose.
“Watch your fucking mouth, asshole.”
“Oh, come on, man, she was all over me.”
It’s the casual way he thinks he can call me man and I’ll bro out with him or some shit that sends me over the edge. When my fist lands a punch to his nose, I think he finally realizes he’s barking up the wrong fucking tree.
“I’m not your friend, Ronny. Dancing with her doesn’t mean you get to grab her ass and shove your tongue down her throat.”
“You’re a fucking psycho, man,” he cries.
I punch him again because I'm not a fan of the casual way he’s still addressing me. The bouncers make their way over to us, but all I have to do is shoot them a look and they back the hell off. They know exactly who I am and what it could mean for them if they try to interfere with the little lesson I’m teaching the piece of shit in my grip.
“Apologize,” I grit out, watching with satisfaction as blood runs from his nose, staining the front of his pressed baby-blue shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he says to me, finally catching on to the fact that he’s well and truly fucked.
“Not to me, you moron. To her.” I’m still holding him by the hair. “Tell her what a slimy skeezeball you are for thinking that dancing with her means you get to put your hands all over her.”
“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers in her direction.
“The rest of it, Ronny,” I say, tugging on his hair. Fuck, I’m going to have to wash my hands in scalding-hot water to get all the gel off them.
“I’m a skeezeball who sh-shouldn’t have put his hands on you.”
Gemma rolls her eyes and waves her hand as if to tell me to hurry it along.
Slapping Ronny on the face a couple times, I mutter, “Good boy. Now run along and get the fuck out of here.” I shove him to the side, and he nearly topples over from the force.
He pushes his way past the two bouncers at the top of the stairs and runs down without looking back. His friends, who made the right decision by not intervening, follow him without making eye contact with me or mine. Smart boys.
When I turn my head back toward Gemma, the scowl on her face doesn’t surprise me in the least. The fact that it’s directed at me and not the retreating back of Ronny does, though.
“What?” I ask, rubbing the tender flesh of the knuckles that met Ronny’s face. That’s gonna leave a bruise.
“Seriously, Eoghan? I had it under control.”
“I know you did, blondie.” It’s true. With all the training she’s had, Gemma is perfectly able to take care of herself in these situations. “But you shouldn’t have to. I didn’t like seeing his hands all over you, and you didn’t like having them there. I took care of it.”
“Jesus Christ.” Her eyes roll toward the ceiling as she lets out a deep breath. “I don’t want you to take care of it. There’s no reason for you to take care of anything. Ronny wasn’t the first guy to ever get a little too handsy with me, and I’ve always handled it. I’m not a damsel in distress, and you sure as hell aren’t my knight in shining armor.”
She whirls around, stomps over to the couch where her purse is sitting and grabs the small bag before turning back to me. “Might want to have that hand looked at.”
Gemma heads down the stairs, and I nod at one of my guys to follow her out. I just want to make sure she doesn’t run into any trouble. And I have a very strong feeling if I tried to make sure she got to her car safely, she’d have my balls.
“She’s ungrateful. I’d love for a man to fight for my honor like that,” Camille says, coming up to my side and trying to wrap her arm around mine. But it’s the wrong blonde, and she doesn’t have blue eyes.
I untangle myself from her grip and offer her a small smile. “Make sure you get home safe,” is all I say before getting the attention of Declan, one of the guys on my crew who came with me. I motion to the bar and send a text to one of my other guys who went outside for a smoke. After telling him to watch for Gemma, I realize how badly I’m in need of a shot. Also, I need to let the bartender know to keep my tab open for Gemma’s friends until they’re ready to leave.
Declan follows me, and I order two shots of whiskey and tell the bartender to add a thirty-percent tip for herself when she closes my tab. She’s unsure, but the guy behind the bar with her recognizes me. I’ve seen him around Clovers, and he’s been to a couple fight nights, if memory serves. He whispers something in her ear, and she shrugs before walking away.
“I’ll make sure everything is taken care of,” the male bartender tells me. “Shots are on the house.”
I raise my glass and nod my thanks. Declan and I down the alcohol, and I relish in the burn as it travels down my throat. Fuck. This night did not turn out how I expected.
Gemma’s friend, who prompted her to dance, steps next to us and throws Declan a flirtatious smile, which he returns tenfold.
When her gaze lands on me, she looks me up and down. She’s not checking me out; it’s more like assessing me from head to toe. “I saw what you did back there. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to step in unless you hold a personal stake in the situation.”
“What kind of guy do I strike you as?” I ask, amused by her quick study of me.
“The kind who sets his sights on something and doesn’t give up easily.”
I incline my head toward her, and she smiles, then continues speaking. “I've known Gemma a long time, but I’ve never seen her so flustered by any man.”
“You call that flustered?” I scoff.
“For her? Yes.” She turns her head to Declan and reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m Sami.”
“Declan.” Their gazes hold and both of them are wearing smiles that make me feel like a third wheel.
“I’m going to head out. You good?” I ask my friend.
“Yup,” he replies without ever taking his eyes off Sami. “I'll catch you tomorrow, boss.”
A small chuckle escapes me before I head through the VIP area and down the stairs to the exit. Sean is walking in as I’m about to head out.
“She get in a car?” I ask.
“Yup. Don’t think she knew I was there to keep an eye on her. She was pretty pissed and seemed a little preoccupied with whatever argument she was having with herself.”
I’m sure she was.
“Thanks. Go back inside and have a drink. I think Declan’s going to stick around for a while.”
“What about you?”
“Nah. I’m done for the night.”
Sean nods and heads inside as I walk to the street and hail a cab. Declan drove us here, but I’m not in the mood to wait around for anyone. I need a hot shower and some ice for my fist. Then I need to figure out what to say to Gemma to make up for the fact that I apparently overstepped when I taught that asshole a lesson. I thought girls were supposed to fall all over themselves when they saw a man protecting them. But I’m quickly learning Gemma doesn’t react to anything the way I would expect, and fuck me if I don’t find that enticing as all hell.
Three days later, I get a text from Javier at Freddy’s gym. I gave him my number and told him to let me know the next time he sees Gemma. I considered having Declan or Sean trail her, but if she ever figured out what I was up to, she'd have my balls, probably run to Alessia with the information, and then Finn would have what’s left of me after Gemma got through with me. No thanks. This is much safer for all involved.
When I walk into Freddy’s, I immediately spot Gemma in the ring with her trainer, but she’s too focused to notice I’ve entered. Or maybe she did and she’s still salty over what went down at the club on Friday.
“Hey, boss,” Javier greets me as he steps out of the locker room I’m heading into. I came straight from a meeting when I received his text, so I need to change. Fortunately for me, I typically have a bag of spare gym clothes in my trunk, so it was nothing to head over here as soon as my meeting was over.
“You on the clock?” I ask him.
“Not yet. Was going to do some weight training.”
“Feel like sparring?”
“With you?”
“Yeah, Columbo, with me.”
Javier chuckles at my reference to the crusty old TV detective and nods. “Sure.”
After changing, I head to the empty sparring ring across the gym from Gemma. Javier is suited up in headgear and a mouth guard waiting for me. I hop in the ring and tape my knuckles, but that’s it.
“Freddy wants everyone in here in protective gear,” Javier says.
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
Freddy knows what kind of fighter I am and about the fights I put on. I’m all for Javier being protected while practicing, but I’ve never used any of that shit.
We circle each other, and Javier is the first to throw a punch. I can tell he’s holding back, though.
“You’re not going to break me. I’ve been trading blows with my brother since I was eight.”
I’m not sure if it’s because of who I am or the fact I didn't bother with protective gear. He nods, and before I know it, he’s going full force. Mostly body shots, but the kid's got some power behind his punches, that’s for sure. We go round and round. I get a good feeling for his fighting and plan on talking with a trainer I know about him. I point out some of his weaknesses and where he’s pulling back when he should be going in harder. He’ll make a tough opponent, that’s for damn sure, but he’s still green. That’s okay; finding someone to work with him and bring him up to par will be a piece of cake.
After thirty minutes, both of us are drenched in sweat, and I notice Gemma finishing up with her training.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Javier and jump out of the ring to make my way over to the blonde who has yet to acknowledge my presence.
“Hey, blondie,” I greet when I walk over to where she’s gathering her things to take off for the night. “You weren’t going to say hi?”
Gemma nails me with an annoyed look. “Is showing up at my gym whenever I’m here going to become a habit?”
“Maybe.” Definitely.
“What do you want, Eoghan?”
“Why are you so upset with me? Is this about the other night?” I figured she would have calmed down by now. It’s not like the guy didn’t have it coming.
“I’m not mad at you.” She grabs her bag and pulls the strap up her shoulder. “Look, I get it. You saw a woman being disrespected and wanted to step in. Hell, there’s a part of me that appreciates it. But what you don’t get is we”—she waves her hand between us—“can’t happen.”
“You’re right. I don’t get it.”
Gemma shakes her head and holds up a finger. “One, you’re my best friend’s brother-in-law.” She holds up another. “Two, you aren’t looking for anything more than a good time, and I’m not interested in a fling with someone who, by all accounts, will be in my life in some capacity forever. And three”—she holds up another finger—“I didn’t like who I was the other night. I was leading him on. Not saying he shouldn’t have backed off the moment he realized I wasn’t willing for anything to go further than dancing, but the way I was behaving isn’t who I am. It wasn’t my finest hour.”
“Am I allowed a rebuttal?” Gemma reluctantly nods in my direction. “Okay. One.” I hold up a finger. “Anything between us has nothing to do with who my family is or who my sister-in-law is. I just happened to have never met you before the wedding.” I raise another finger. “Two, I never said anything about a fling. I want to get to know you, Gemma. There’s a spark between us, and I’ll probably regret saying this, but I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. Every time I see you it’s like a jolt to my chest. I don’t know why, but I know it’s something I want to explore.” I hold up a third finger and stare into her blue eyes, which are just a little less guarded than before. “I don’t regret punching that guy, but I regret not telling him to get lost the second I saw him with you, and I regret dancing with that other girl, too. It was childish and immature on both our parts.”
“That’s my point, Eoghan. Just because there’s attraction doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be toxic as hell together. I think the other night proved that.”
“No, the other night proved we’re dumbasses.” We both let out a huff of laughter. But the second the tinkling sound falls from her lips, it’s as though she realizes she let her guard down and her eyes shutter and turn cold again.
Gemma shakes her head and moves to step past me. “I have to go. I’m sure I'll see you around.”
I don’t try to stop her. There’s something here. She knows it just as well as I do. She's just so damn stubborn.
But so am I.