Chapter 13 #2
Is that what it would have been like to be married to her?
A life of pretension? At least with Catriona, I know the gist of what she’s feeling.
It’s hard not to when the sheer magnitude of her hatred is present in every heated glare she directs toward me whenever we’re in the same room together.
But at least what she’s feeling is genuine, honest. Too many people in my life like to hide behind their deference, fear, or manipulation.
“So where’s your blushing bride?” Eamon murmurs, knocking my shoulder with his as he lifts a drink to his mouth.
He scans the crowd, shifting and searching for something to keep his ever-capricious attention.
“And when are you going to let Mara and me come over to play? You’ve been keeping her all to yourself. ”
“Never, if I can help it. You’ll scare her away.
” A woman catches my attention, her body enveloped in white, showcasing curves I’d kill to get my hands on.
Then the crowd shifts, blocking her from view.
I could use the distraction of a woman. I’m overdue to lose myself in a few hours of mindless satisfaction, but none of them could ever be her, so I look away, already losing interest.
“Women love me,” Eamon says with a sniff, tossing his hair as he passes me his drink, which I finish off. “It’s not my fault if some of them are squeamish.”
“That’s right, darling,” Mara says, in a swirl of black silk and a cloud of the same perfume she has me buy for her birthday every year, Tom Ford Vanilla Sex Eau de Parfum. “Even monsters are worthy of love and affection. Or so they tell me.”
She kisses Eamon on the cheek and lifts hers for me to do the same.
I almost don’t see the bruises under her flawlessly applied makeup, and if I weren’t so accustomed to seeing the same evidence on my mother’s face, I wouldn’t have glanced twice.
I still, wrap a hand around her jaw, and tilt it up until the light illuminates the shadows around her eyes.
In the next moment, she shifts away, tilting her face down, her eyes hard chips of green. “Let’s not ruin your night,” she chides softly. “You know I can take care of myself.”
Eamon has gone dangerously quiet.
“Did Niall do this?” I urge, as I scrutinize the crowd for his presence. “Where is he? I’d like to have a chat with him.”
“He’s not here, so you’re wasting this impressive display of machismo. Like I said, I can handle myself. And you have too many guests and too much press here tonight to make a scene. Drop it, Aiden. I mean it.” She blinks. “Where’s Eamon?”
Not standing next to me, like he’d been a few minutes ago. “Fuck,” I bite out.
Mara puts up a hand. “You wait here. Catriona will be here soon, and you’ll want to look pretty for your admirers. I’ll find our demented knight in shining armor and stop him before he does something silly. Really. Like I can’t take perfectly good care of myself. You’re both idiots.”
Then she’s giving me her back and striding away.
Before I can ignore her advice and follow, the woman I’d been admiring earlier appears at my side, and all I notice is the deep plunge of her dress and the way it frames her perfect breasts.
But it’s not until I see her face that a bolt of pure animal lust ignites and my mouth goes dry.
The woman in the white dress is Catriona.
Because of course it is. Who else would be wearing white at our reception but my wife? I guess I still haven’t gotten used to the idea, though a week feels like enough time to imprint that fact on my brain with stunning clarity.
“Where are your bodyguards?” I demand, instead of telling her how incredible she looks in her dress. She does. But I doubt she’d welcome hearing it from me.
Tossing long blond curls over her bare shoulders, Catriona crosses her arms and scoffs, “You’re kidding, right?
They’ve been glued to me all week, just like you wanted.
They went to get something to drink because they’ve been following me around campus all day.
Probably walked a million steps. Is that okay with you, or are you really so heartless?
” Before I can answer, she accepts a glass of champagne from a passing server and sips, waving her free hand.
“Never mind, you don’t even need to answer. ”
Bren and Tadhg finally appear, and I fillet them with a look, and they blanche.
After they shuffle back to position at my wife’s back, I relax, but only a little.
Fucking Niall. I’ve already been on edge, waiting for Cian to show, knowing he’s got to get word about what I’ve done any day now.
Combined with the lack of sleep, I’m itching for a provocation to devolve into my baser instincts.
“I said to stay with her at all times.”
Bren, the younger of the two, flinches. He’s new, and I’ve had a soft spot for him since he came to the States, but he’s also too quick to show his emotions. Sometimes when I look at his rounded, boyish cheeks, I wonder if I was ever that innocent. “We’re sorry, sir. It won’t—”
Catriona positions herself between us, and Bren’s mouth closes with a snap. “Don’t bully them because you’re pissed at me. They haven’t done anything wrong.”
Bren glances at her with puppy dog eyes and looks away when he realizes I’m glaring at him.
Tadhg maintains his stoic exterior. I paired him with Bren because he’s been a member of the organization for as long as I can remember.
Bren may be young and enthusiastic, but Tadhg is experienced and trustworthy.
He’d been my father’s enforcer before he was killed.
Cian had no qualm about letting my most loyal friend come with me when I left Ireland.
“That would depend on your definition of wrong. They were told to never leave your side when you’re in public.”
“Really, of all the moronic, pedantic things to—”
“I have her now,” I tell them, with one last skewering look. “See me tomorrow morning before your shift starts so we can go over what I expect from you.”
“Yes, sir,” they both intone.
“Was that really necessary?” Catriona asks. I expect her to give me a verbal lashing, drawing the attention of every vulture circling us, but she keeps her voice low so only I can hear.
“The safety of my wife is always necessary.”
She peers at me, focus shifting between my eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re full of shit or just an excellent actor.”
“Can’t it be both?”
Silence falls as Catriona quite literally bites her tongue to keep from snapping out a response.
Despite repeated attempts to the contrary, no force on earth can keep me from looking at her mouth.
Remembering what it had been like to finally kiss her, taste her.
And how much I wish I could do it again.
The fact that she keeps to her room or flees before I wake up have kept me from trying again.
That and the fact that I know I won’t be able to catch her off guard a second time.
Flocks of partygoers stop by to wish us well, and Catriona paints a demure smile on her face. I wonder if she realizes she gets that from her father, the ability to charm an audience. I doubt she’d find the comparison a flattering one, so I say nothing.
Every now and then, I find her looking in the direction of her family, frowning. And in those moments, her face softens, vulnerable, and I imagine that’s what she must have looked like as a child. Wanting to be loved. Craving the security a family should provide.
Unsettled, I scrutinize the people on the dance floor for a distraction, and I find Eamon and Mara jerking this way and that as he interrogates her under the guise of dancing.
“Look at that. I think they’re playing our song,” I say stonily, as I pull her onto the dance floor.
She resists, but only slightly. “We don’t have a song, you psycho. Don’t grab at me.”
“Well, then, this can be our song.” I wrap my arms around her waist, thankful she’s settled back into annoyance. That I can handle. “Smile pretty. You’re supposed to be desperately in love with me.”
Etta James croons “At Last” in the speakers as Catriona tilts her head up to me with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Like that’ll happen.”
“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice faking it.”
I don’t realize it until we’re across the room, but Catriona has let me lead the entire dance, her body pliant in my arms. One would almost say trusting.
I write it off. She’s probably as distracted by her father as I am trying to maneuver us closer to Eamon and Mara, who are now turning in tight circles, mouths pressed into lines. Eamon’s neck is corded with tension.
“Why do you keep staring at them? Is something wrong?” Catriona pushes to her toes to see over my shoulder. Spotting them behind me, she says, “What happened? Are they arguing? That would make a lovely headline, don’t you think? And I’ll bet you were certain I’d be the one to cause a scene.”
“Stop staring.”
She relaxes back and twists her lips to the side as she puzzles over this new tangle. Is that what occupies her thoughts? Problems and all the ways she can fix them? Like her father? Like her sister? The last fucking thing I need is someone else to trip their way into my problems. Especially her.
“Did someone hit her?” she asks, keeping her voice low enough that I’m the only one who can hear it. “Are those bru—”
“Keep out of it, Catriona. You know what your job is and what it isn’t. Don’t think because I’ve been agreeable that it gives you license to nose your way into my life. Into my friends’ lives.”
Her mouth falls open for a pregnant pause before she snaps it closed, and her hands, which had been resting lightly on my shoulders, drop to her sides.
Then she erases all emotion from her face, spins around, and strides in the other direction, moving as fast as she can to get away from me.
It’s only our first public outing, and she already can’t stick to the contract.
I follow. Of course, I fucking do.