Page 43 of An Angel's Share
I sit back down and take her hands again. “But I actually don’t think he’s done anything. I think it was all bravado on that woman’s part. Time to make a stand, Christy. The only questions I need the answers to are these?” I pause and take her in my arms, my face looking down at hers. “Do you love him? Do you still want him?”
She stares for a beat and then nods her head twice as her tears start again.
“Well then, let’s go get your husband. And”—I grin at her—“dump my lying, cheating scumbag of a fiancé. Fucking Dublin penthouse. But listen, I won’t dump him until after the board meeting. So whatever you do is fine, but do you think you can hang on before you blow Patrick to smithereens? I’m stuck with Liam until then. But it’s only a day or so away now. By the time he gets back from picking furnishings for his love nest, I’ll be tipping him out of mine.”
I feel a bit of a fraud calling Liam a liar and a cheater. Ican hardly talk, carrying on with Jonno Greystone. But I need to keep up the charade for Christy. GodO’Cleryshas a lot to answer for. This must be what Grams Dervla meant about giving your life to the family whiskey brand. Whiskey first.
“I think you’re in shock, Aoife. Maybe you ought not to go to the meeting.” Christy is sussing me out, she thinks I’m unhinged.
So I calmly say, “I asked you the two questions. Shall I tell you the answer to the same ones for me?” I shrug my shoulders. Her eyes are wide with disbelief, she probably thinks my hormones have gone insane. “No and absolutely fucking not.”
She sits back, her body sagging into the bench. “You know, I’m not shocked. Isn’t that weird? Now I think about it, really think about it, you never looked at him right. I’ve thought that this last week. You don’t bother looking at him. The odd glance, sure, but it may as well be a mouldy biscuit you’re looking at. In fact, I’ve seen you look at Jonno Greystone more than you do Liam.” Christy strikes again.
I blush so red.
“Oh my god, Aoife, you like Jonno. Well, I did wonder. I mean, he looks at you. Well, he really looks at you. And I’ve seen you check him out. I just thought it was because he’s so good looking. And so, well, everything.” She’s flapping her hands up and down as if she’s pointing at his body parts.
“And a liar trying to catch a thief. Yeah, Jonno is all that.” I blow out a breath. I’m more upset about him not telling me about his thoughts than Liam trying to play me like a fiddle. “Come on, let’s go home, and try and pretend we’re normal people. If either one of us feels like we’re going to go nuts, let's grab each other and we’ll leave. Or I’ll start discussing my birthing plan and my lady bits. That will clear the roomin two seconds flat. No one wants to discuss a pregnant woman’s birthing plan or bits.”
We start to laugh, and are hysterical in no time. Fucking hell, is this what we’ve been reduced to? Hysterical women. Well I won’t be. And those treacherous men better get ready. All three of them.
20
Jonno
I spillmy guts to my sister on the plane over to Ireland. There is no point lying to her, no point in beating around any bushes. By the time she gets to Ireland she’ll know the score and hassle me there. I might as well come clean now, save myself the prolonged pain and torture.
I confess to her about my night in CAshO. How Aoife made me feel. How I’d never felt that sort of pull towards any woman ever. How she’d played on my mind so much, I’d decided I was going to contact them next time I was there to try and get her details. I also confessed about the condom breaking. And our agreement about the morning after pill. If I hadn’t had so much on with her and the baby and then Marshall and his thief, I would have gone earlier.
She gasps at the condom story, but sits through the rest grinning like a Cheshire cat, the smuggest look on her face.
“I knew someone would catch you eventually. Someone somewhere had to be as crazy as you. Your perfect match. I am so happy for you. I love you, Jonno.” I nearlychoke up at that, but then she completely blitzes me. “You’re too beautiful a man inside and out to be on your own forever, baby bro. I knew we’d have to share you sooner or later. Someone else would spot how amazing you are.”
The look of love she gives me has me speechless. Tears appear in both our eyes. I wholeheartedly love my sister, my partner in every crime when we were young. She’s put up with so much from me over the years. All the following her around, the surveillance—she never moaned about it. She knew I needed her safe. I needed her to be there for me. As she always had been.
“Whoa Kitten, please don’t cry, I’m not leaving you all.”
She gifts me a wide smile. “No chance, we’ll all follow you anyway. No escape for you. You thought it was you following us all these years. Wrong, Jonno.” She prods at my chest. “We’ve just kept you close. At times a bit close for comfort, but on the whole, close enough. Have you told her how you feel?” She’s so matter of fact. As if pronouncements of love are an everyday occurrence.
I tell her about my declarations, the kitchen, the coffee shop, the clearing, the stables, and finally in her bed. Her jaw is getting slacker and slacker.
“I leave you alone for a couple of weeks, and this is what you do? Jonno Greystone, you are officially insane.” She has the back of her hand to her forehead in a fake fainting move, laughing at me.
“Well look, that’s the good bits. The next bit is not so much.” I blow out a breath. What the fuck am I going to do? I’ve never been this conflicted. Ruthless and calculated, yes. Conflicted and unsure? Not a chance.
My phone pings with an email attachment from the Isle of Man. I close my eyes and pray it won’t say what I know it will.
“Is this to do with the stuff James was talking to you about? The dodgy companies in America and the Caymans?”
I nod at her, hitting ‘open’ on the attachment. My heart sinks to my boots and my breath stutters in my chest as I stare in dismay at the paperwork that’s open in front of me. The can of worms that have crawled out of that fucking company.
“Fuuuck,” I scrub my hand down my face and turn the phone towards Evie, showing her the printed name at the bottom of the application for the business. The only signatory: Aoife O’Clery.
“Shit. Are you sure it’s her signature? Loads of people set up companies in other people’s names.” She starts flapping her hands trying to recall some information to prove it. “Look at that issue Nic the forensic accountant had last year. Twelve businesses opened in under a week, all in one of his client’s names. Nobody could stop it. It happens, Jonno.” Her voice is getting desperate as she tries to shift some blame.
“I know. And I’m trying to find reasons why it isn’t her. If it was anyone else, I would be all over them, eagerly relieving them of the money. But I’m so desperate for it not to be her, we’ve left it alone to see if she does move it. It’s been there for over three years. Five hundred fucking million in that account alone, accumulating nicely. All been syphoned off fromO’Clerys, no one any the wiser, while the origin company is sinking in Ireland. Yet all the profits have sat, happily waiting to be moved into the sun, for a holiday in the Caymans.”
Evie takes the phone and studies the signature and the name printed underneath, her breath coming in pants. I don’t want her to get upset. She’s pregnant again. I don’twant to dump my crap on her, but I can’t help it. I’m helpless.
