Chapter 40
forty
MAGS
“I got two more of my pieces delivered to clients this afternoon. I’m not gonna lie, making money for my embroidery will never get old,” Mags told Jonathan, who was on speaker phone as she dashed around her bathroom getting dolled up for the Chamber event at Gray Eyes that evening.
“You deserve the success. You work so hard, and you’re so talented. I’m proud of you,” Jonathan told her.
Mags glanced at herself in the mirror, seeing the soft look in her eyes. She was so far gone for that man.
“You earned a kiss for that,” she teased.
He snorted before coming back with, “I don’t have to earn your affection. You want my mouth and a whole lot more than that, touching you every chance you can.”
“Which is why I’m glad you aren’t here while I’m getting dressed. I want to look stunning without the orgasm afterglow.”
“Why? It’s your best look. Hang on, Dan’s yelling for me.”
Mags heard muted voices and laughter before Jonathan resumed the call. “I’m back. He needed my signature on a couple of documents from our meeting earlier today. Now, where were we? Oh, right, we were discussing all the orgasms I’m going to give you later. Ouch,” Jonathan barked.
“What happened?”
“Daniel hit me and told me to get out of his room, the prick. Just because he’s celibate doesn't mean I am.”
“Speaking of, Ciar might be joining the celibate club, just not by choice,” Mags chuckled.
“Do tell. I love nothing more than gossip about that big, Russian ass.”
“Ciar’s just as much Irish as Russian,” Mags defended.
“Yeah, but he gets all his prickish ways from his Russian side. I’m all Irish and don’t act anything like him,” Jonathan sniffed over the phone like a priss.
“Need I remind you that you are actually three-quarters American, and your arrogant pride proves it. Blair and I are one hundred percent Scottish, and you don’t see us yammering on about it.”
“You just did, but fine. Now tell me what Ciar did so I can make fun of him tonight.”
She shook her head in exasperation, even though he couldn’t see her. “Gray called right before you did. When she modeled the dress she was wearing tonight, which is stunning by the way, Ciar asked her if she thought it might be a little revealing for a mother of two small children.”
“Christ,” Jonathan swore. He wasn’t married or a father, but he knew how out of line that was. “I’m not defending him—”
“I should hope not,” Mags cut in.
“Not his finest moment, true, but you and I both know that Gray is stunning inside and out, right?”
“Damn straight, she is,” Mags huffed.
“Have you, or Gray, for that matter, considered that he knows that there will be a ton of men at the party, and he doesn’t want any of them to see his wife in something that makes her look more gorgeous than she already is?”
Mags tapped her upper lip thoughtfully. “I hate when you’re right.”
Laughing, he said, “Better text Gray and tell her to let Ciar explain his stupid comment. He does have a point, though. What are you wearing?”
Mags, Mirren, and their mother had gone shopping after the cookout last weekend at one of her favorite secondhand designer-clothing stores. It had a few tears where the rings held the fabric together and a stain on the hem, but it fit her like a glove and—hello—she was pretty handy with a needle.
“A long black dress. The neckline barely shows my collarbone, and the hem brushes my ankles.” If she purposely left out that the dress hugged her body like a second skin and that the sides, from below her armpit to the floor, were held together with beautiful gold rings, showing a perfect amount of creamy, white flesh and side boob, well, it was a simple oversight. Surely.
“That dress should be fucking illegal, Mags,” Jonathan growled in her ear while they were ushered into Gray Eyes.
He had her practically surgically sewn to his side, probably trying to hide some of her body, but it wasn’t like she didn’t have two sides. When he picked her up at Eze’s, it had been extremely satisfying to watch his eyes nearly pop from his head.
He twirled her around in the lobby before backing her against a column and kissing her senseless, the doormen be damned.
That had been thirty minutes ago, and since then and now, he’d asked her no less than forty times if she was sure she wouldn’t be too cold.
After he asked the last time, and she snarled, “I don’t know, Ciar, do you think I’ll be too cold?” he accepted defeat and became her new trench coat.
They saw their friends gathered at one of the back bars and waved, but before they could join them, Jonathan stopped walking, and since they were literally joined at the hip, she stopped too.
He touched her cheek gently. “I’m sorry for being such an ass, Mags. You’re stunning. I’m proud that you’re mine. I just want to pummel every shady little shit that looks at you like I do.”
Mags’ posture relaxed. “No one looks at me like you do, Jon, and if they do, I’d never notice. I love you.”
“I love you, too, but if you tell Gray about this, I will spank your ass until you can’t sit down.”
Mags grinned as they started walking again. “I’m afraid your punishment just makes me want to tell her even more.” She giggled when he cursed.
The cocktail hour had been all about mingling and meeting other business owners. She vowed to herself that eventually she would be successful enough to speak at one of these illustrious events.
Normally, an O’Faolain would speak at an event like this, especially given all the philanthropic ventures the family undertook for the Dublin community and surrounding villages, but since Hugh’s passing, his sons and grandsons had taken a step back.
Everyone knew them, respected and even feared them if they happened to want the same business or property one of the ‘Wolves’ wanted, but foremost, they were respected.
Mags and Jonathan were about to follow their group to the tables set up for that night’s event when a beautiful blonde, taller than Christ in 6-inch stilettos and hair braided and bedazzled enough to be seen from Heaven.
Fine. That might have been an exaggeration. She was tall and runway-ready, though, with a supercilious expression sucking in her already sunken cheeks.
The negative opinion formed the second she stepped between her and Jonathan, turning her slender back to Mags’ face.
“Jonathan O’Faolain,” she purred like a fat cat hacking up a hairball. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
Weeks. Not months.
Mags had to blink rapidly to expel the red shell of fury trying to cover her eyes. Wait for an explanation, Mags.
“We were supposed to go to Aspen, and you never called me back.” Pouty voice engaged. “I bought six more pairs of your favorite lace panties that you enjoy ripping off me so much.”
Mags was about to step around the stilt walker and excuse herself with as much dignity as she could drum up when the woman stepped closer to Jonathan.
“Say you’ll come by my place tonight. My sister’s in town, and the three of us had so much fun together last time.”
“Sorry, Deirdre, not tonight. I’m busy.”
And that was all she could handle. Not tonight. I’m busy! He should have said, I’m in a relationship, or I’m never going to your place again.
Furious now, Mags sidestepped the woman until she could see Jonathan. Granted, he looked furious. Unfortunately for him and their relationship, his words didn’t match his face.
He swallowed firmly when their eyes met. “I’m going to go grab a seat with my friends.” Emphasis on “my.”
He was quick to grab her elbow, and had they not been at an important event, she would have used that elbow to thump him in the ribs.
“I’ll take you,” he declared before turning to his ex-whatever. “I should have mentioned before, but I’m exclusively dating Mags now—forever, I hope. My past is very much staying there. Good evening.”
His declaration should have soothed Mags’ ruffled feathers. He eventually made it right, but one minute or an hour later was still too late. He should have announced to the woman exactly who was standing behind her. He should never have let her stand at any woman’s back.
Mags didn’t bother to look at the lady again, even when she huffed and parted with, “Whatever.”
As they pulled away, Jonathan slowed. “Mags. Please let me—”
“Explain? No need. You already threw out a couple of good explanations. You’re busy tonight, was my favorite. Plus, the back of her dress is lovely. I got to study it for a while.”
“Jesus, Mags, please. I was thrown. Seeing someone that I’d slept with while we’re basically on our first date was bad enough, but then she brought up…
specifics. I froze, and not because I was tempted.
She means nothing to me and vice versa. It was only sex, I swear it.
I froze because my past was hurting you again.
“You had to listen to those things, and I hated it. Please say you forgive me. If something like that happens again, and I hope like hell it doesn’t, I swear I’ll handle it better. Tell me I haven’t ruined the whole evening,” he begged.
Mags had already softened once she heard the sincerity in his voice, and even though she wasn’t completely over it—hello, threesome—she patted his arm and attempted a smile.
After all, the likelihood of running into one of his exes had been a matter of when, not if.
It happened. She needed to Google how to bleach the last few minutes from her memories and move on.
When she started to move, he clasped her fingers and flattened them against his chest. “I love you, Mags.”
“I know. Perhaps start with that next time a woman solicits you.” She raised her brows and tilted her head, but the smile that curled her lips was genuine, and Jonathan smiled too.
“I’ll do that, brat.” He tugged her toward their table, where their friends were already eating appetizers.
For the next hour and a half, she and her friends enjoyed good food and amazing Chamber speakers.
It was a packed house, and the only seats left at their table were across from one another.
The good news was that Mags had been able to drive Jonathan wild with her bare feet under the table.
His looks of retribution sent burning anticipation through her body.
At the end of the evening, their small group decided to have one more drink to celebrate the great evening before they paired off for home.
Ciar and Gray would go home to their two children, Dagr and Bébhinn, to snuggle her precious baby bump, Daniel would escort Blair back to the twin townhouses, and Jonathan would come home with her to Eze’s.
She and Blair followed the group, deep in conversation about the possibility of her accepting an offer to pursue a plant pathology PhD from Oklahoma State University in the States, as they snaked their way through the crowd, heading to the same bar they’d started the evening, when she heard a man calling her name.
Mags tapped Blair’s cheek to make sure she would look at her face and mouthed an “Oh, shit. Rory.” That was all she got out before a metaphorical bag of shit exploded over her head.
Rory, her tall, dark, and handsome ‘casual partner,’ hailed her from across the pub. Before she could so much as clutch her imagined pearls, Jonathan was at her side and waving at the man barreling toward them.
What the hell was this nightmare?
She locked eyes with Rory at the same time Jonathan stepped forward and clapped him hard on the back, as men are wont to do.
“Phipps,” Jonathan exclaimed enthusiastically. Phipps was Rory’s last name. “Good to see you, man. Well done on Silverton. Hell of a project, but that old man will be a trial to impress.”
Rory grinned, his dimples creasing his lean cheeks. He glanced at me once more before focusing on Jonathan, returning her boyfriend’s banter.
“Your firm should be thanking me personally for winning that bid, Jon. Silverton is,” Rory hesitated, attempting professionalism, “worse than my partners and I imagined.
“Speaking of nightmares, I hear the O’Faolains are gearing up to open their own architectural firm. Tell me the rumors are just that.”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say,” Jonathan answered, his smirk totally giving him away.
If she weren’t so paralyzed with fear of the inevitable outcome of this meeting, she would preen over how proud she was of Jonathan’s accomplishments. He was a phenomenal architect because he was foremost an artist.
“Well,” Rory started, putting the shadow of a swinging guillotine blade over her throat, “it was good to see you, man, but I’m afraid I’m here to see the woman who haunts my every thought and convince her to finally be mine.”
Rory stepped around Jonathan and had his arms around her back before she could so much as blink. “Maggie,” Rory growled against her lips.