Bronagh Chapter 21
Cathal had been unsettled for the past week.
He’d returned with the others safe and sound.
He and Dad told me that they’d gotten the information they needed to shut everything down.
Cody and his team would still verify everything, including who was actually involved and who wasn’t.
That meant they didn’t go after anyone until that due diligence was over.
However, they felt the biggest danger had passed, though we’d stay alert.
Dad stayed for another day, then he headed back to Las Cruces.
Our family was getting antsy with him gone and so unavailable.
As for me, they barely knew I was alive, so none of them missed me.
Honestly, it didn’t bother me. I’d been on the outside with most of them since I was a kid.
The few who cared reached out to check I was okay, but they didn’t expect me to show up in New Mexico.
The big thing this past week was the official announcement that Cathal O’Sheeran was no longer single.
And that he married fashion designer Bronagh Bragan in a private ceremony at his family estate.
The speculation was rampant. Everyone wanted to know who I was.
Reporters camped out outside the commune, hoping to catch a glimpse of us leaving or even to stop us for a quote.
I remained inside, working on my projects.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to remain that way for long.
But until I had to leave for meetings, I’d stay there.
Cathal worked at Wicked Desires throughout the week.
He stuck to daytime hours, even though I had told him it was fine to go at night if he needed to.
The reporters couldn’t get inside, so they were thwarted in their efforts to corner him there.
And the parking lot was part of his property, so they couldn’t trespass on it or prevent anyone from entering or leaving the premises.
Our lovemaking had resumed and was still amazing, but it felt slightly off. I asked Cathal more than once if anything was wrong. Was I not giving him what he needed? He denied it, but I kept worrying.
By this morning, I’d had enough. He’d given me an absentminded kiss then left. I knew what I had to do. He had gone to Wicked later than usual and said he’d be staying later. He wasn’t sure what time he’d be home, but he said it would probably not be before ten o’clock.
My gut had a sinking feeling. I hated the thought that crept in. Was he meeting someone there? Did he plan to play or even have sex with someone? Was he already bored with me? I thought until they went to take care of the Methots that our marriage and sex life were wonderful. Had I been an idiot?
Not knowing who to confide in, I kept my mouth shut.
It wasn’t if he cheated that his family would side with me against him.
So, instead of working, I prepared. If he was cheating on me, I needed to know.
And the only way I would know was to catch him in the act.
This time, I didn’t bother to dress provocatively.
I wore jeans and a nice top. I’d noticed several dressed this way the one time we were there.
When I was ready, around seven o’clock, I called the security number Cathal had given me.
It was the number to call if you needed a bodyguard for an errand and couldn’t find yours.
I hadn’t been assigned one, so I called.
I knew I’d never get out of the gate otherwise.
I spoke to Brayden, the head of their security.
I informed him that I had received a last-minute text from Cathal asking me to meet him at Wicked.
My husband told me to get someone from the security office instead of making me wait for Troi to come here and then take me back. Brayden bought it.
Less than ten minutes later, a dark sedan pulled up out front of the house. The person who got out was Presley. She smiled at me. I was relieved it was her.
“Are you ready?”
“I am.”
The drive to Wicked Desires was quiet overall. She and I spoke sporadically about random things. I hoped I projected an air of unconcern. She pulled up to the front door at my insistence. I had no idea how to get access via the private garage.
“Let me message Troi so he can come get you and take you to Cathal,” Presley said.
“Oh, there’s no need. He told me to come inside and have the greeter call his office,” I lied.
She insisted on getting out, opening my door, and walking me up to Pete. He gave me a surprised look.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight, Mrs. O’Sheeran.”
I laughed. “I guess Cathal forgot to tell you. Yeah, he called and asked me to come. I’m to let the greeter call him. It’s good to see you again, Pete. Please, no need for the Mrs. O stuff. Call me Bronagh.”
Seeing that I was taken care of, Presley nodded, got back into the car, and moved it. I wondered where she’d wait.
“It’s good to see you too, Bronagh. Go right on in. And congratulations on the wedding.”
I said something back that must’ve satisfied him because Pete opened the door for me.
However, once inside, I sailed past the greeter, and I went straight to the elevator.
If he were messing around, he wouldn’t do it down here.
He’d either be on the third or fourth floor or up in his old crash pad.
The problem was, could I get to him before someone recognized me and called him?
As I got in the elevator, I made my decision and tried the security screen.
I placed my thumb on it and then pressed the number six.
The night I came with him, that was one of the things he supposedly did: putting me into the system here.
All it took was a text to Cody to make it happen.
He already had my prints stored. Relief filled me as it accepted my print, and the elevator began to rise.
When the door opened outside the crash pad, I stepped out, took a deep breath, and then steeled myself.
I kept trying to convince myself I had nothing to worry about, but the way Cathal had been acting made me wonder.
I pressed my finger to the lock on the door.
The light changed from red to green. I opened the door and entered.
There was light coming from somewhere, because it wasn’t pitch-black.
I moved silently inside. It was more than a pad.
It was the size of a large apartment. It had a kitchen, a living room, a dining area, three bedrooms, and two bathrooms. One bedroom was his, and another was his private playroom.
I’d seen it the night he gave me a tour.
As I walked toward the light, my heart dropped.
It was coming from the playroom. I wanted to cry.
I debated whether I should turn around and leave. Seeing him with someone else would rip my heart out. But I had to know. And why else would he be in there other than to play?
I stopped at the doorway. Cathal was across the room, staring down at a sex bench.
He wasn’t in the clothes he wore out of the house this morning.
Gone was his business attire. In its place was a pair of loose lounge pants, the kind he sometimes wore around the house.
His feet were bare, and his hair was wet.
No one was with him, because either they had already left or he was waiting for her.
Vomit crawled up the back of my throat. A whimper escaped.
Cathal whipped around. His eyes widened.
“Bronagh, what are you doing here?” he demanded.
My fury choked me, as tears burned my eyes.
I refused to shed them where he could see them.
I had more pride than that. I turned my back on him and took off.
I didn’t run, but I went at a fast clip.
I heard him shout my name. That made me break into a run.
I had to get out of here. And I wasn’t going back to the commune.
Fuck Cathal O’Sheeran. I’d have the wedding annulled. I wouldn’t stay married to a cheater.
I got out of the fuck pad and to the elevator door. I jammed my finger into the button repeatedly, praying it was right there and didn’t need to be recalled. Suddenly, Cathal’s arms wrapped around me. I hadn’t heard him come out the door. I went off.
“Let go of me!” I screamed as I kicked, tried to claw with my fingernails, and slammed my head and heels behind me.
“íosa Chíost, what is wrong with you?” he grunted.
“Let go of me, you no good píosa caca, piece of shit!” I shouted.
“?Píosa caca? Why the hell would you call me that? Stop fighting me! Come back inside.”
“Over my dead body will I step foot in there again. Let me go. We’re through. I’ll file for the annulment tomorrow,” I hissed over my shoulder.
As soon as the words finished leaving my mouth, I was lifted off my feet, and he carried me back into his sex pad. I screamed and struggled harder. I wished I could get my arms untrapped so I could punch him in the face and claw out his eyes.
The door was kicked shut, and he used one hand to punch in something on the keypad, but I couldn’t see what.
It was humiliating that he could control me with one arm enough to do it.
Then, he carried me to the living room and thrust me down on the sofa after turning me to face him.
I immediately tried to stand, but he was in my way, and he pushed on my chest. He didn’t do it hard, but I lashed out with my foot, taking him in the upper thigh, because he twisted and blocked me from kicking him in the junk.
“What the fuck has gotten into you? Why are you screaming, fighting me, and threatening to divorce me? And why are you here?” he shouted.