Page 8 of An Angel's Share
Mr. Black. He’s totally gorgeous. And he absolutely knows it.
I need to leave, get out from under his stare, but he’s coming towards me to be introduced. I can’t concentrate. My mouth is dry. My blood pressure is pounding, making myhead throb. Uncle Marshall is hugging me, wrapping me in his warm, comfortable embrace, and then opens his body out to present me to him.
“Hi,” I squeak out first. What a faux pas. I wanted to be cool and aloof. That’s just flown out of the window.
He’s so incredibly careful, methodical, slow, so controlled. Oh, boy. My breathing picks up to marathon runner status as I remember what he did to me using those tactics.
“Jonno Greystone. Nice to be officially introduced. My sister Evie is Marshall's daughter. You must be Aoife.”
His hypnotic eyes seize power. His velvet-smooth chocolatey voice ripples over my skin. I’m struggling to hang onto my senses. He holds my hand, the grip firm. He’s taller than me, even in my heels. But then, I knew that.
I go to drop his hand, but he doesn’t let me go, holding my hand firmer in his. If I pull it back, it will be obvious I’m doing so, so I leave it where it is.
The smirk reaches his eyes. Holy shit. Even here in plain sight of everyone, he’s pushing me to submit to him. His thumb moves infinitesimally over my heating skin, backwards and forwards, just once. It’s enough for my vagina to flutter, and my hormones roar to life.
Oh. My. God. My skin is on fire. I need to climb out of it. Or be doused by a bucket of cold water.
Then I remember the shower, in the club. And I can feel his hands on my wet skin. I’m going to combust.
I’ve heard of people bursting spontaneously into flames, I even watched a documentary about it. I believe the rumours. And now it’s going to happen at my own engagement party, as my body defies me and responds to that incredibly smooth, superior voice.
“Are you well? You look a bit hot. Do you need to sit? Adrink perhaps?” He asks this calmly, politeness personified. But his eyes are locked onto the pulse hammering at the base of my neck.
I watch, rapt, as the tip of his tongue runs along the barely opened seam of his lips. I know what he wants to do. I know what I want him to do! He might as well have flashed it on a huge neon sign. I know I am reading this right. He’s allowing me to. I am under no illusion as to who is in the driving seat here.
And I am in so much trouble.
“You do look a bit flushed, darling. I think you should sit.” Liam, my fiancé, has sidled up for the introductions.
Jonno lets go of my hand slowly, his eyes making it known to me that he doesn’t want to. He turns towards Liam, the smile fixed on his face, but it doesn’t reach those eyes. They go from molten to cold and calculated in a nanosecond.
“Jonno Greystone,” he states. The confidence is like the first jab in a boxing match. Hard, fast, and brutal. He holds his hand out to be shook.
Liam makes a grab for it and squeezes very firmly. I practically sigh, a pissing competition already. Liam is like the boxer holding the other fighter around the neck. A mess.
“Liam Figgs-Hamilton, Aoife’s fiancé. And finance director for the business,” he states haughtily.
Round one to Jonno. The insecurity in that introduction is like a red rag to a bull. Jonno’s face doesn’t change, he’s not impressed, he really doesn’t care. But I laugh inwardly.
“You’re a lucky man, Liam. And brave, if the O’Clery women are anything like my sister.” Jonno delivers this with a dead straight expression. But then a mild smile appears on his gorgeous face as he mentions his sister.
“Oh really,” Liam drawls. “I’m sure I can handle it. We get on famously, don’t we darling. We make a top team. And besides, isn't your sister a Greystone?” Liam tries to look confused, but he just looks like an idiot.
My eyes widen in disbelief as I see Uncle Marshall’s face fall and Jonno’s switch to curiously blank. I jump in, I can’t stand it any longer. This is just embarrassing.
“Liam, I really must school you on our family. Especially if you’re potentially due to join it at some point in the future.” I grab a hold of Uncle Marshall’s arm and link mine through his elbow, resting my head on his shoulder. “This man is my dad’s youngest and favourite brother. Evie is his daughter, and while they’ve only recently shared their secret officially, Uncle Marshall has looked after Evie from being a baby.”
I really don’t like to have to spell things out, but Liam is not starting a war with Marshall. I will not allow it. I will not survive him cutting ties with us, and neither would the O’Clerys.
“It’s fine, Rua. I’m sure your man meant nothing by it.” Marshall stands and stares at Liam, his eyes cold and hard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Marshall like this. Clearly his daughter is his world. I look towards Jonno and see the same look in Jonno’s eye. Oh dear, this does not bode well for family relationships going forwards.
Marshall turns back to me, his soft smile back on his face as he looks at my bulging tummy. “How are you feeling? Are you keeping well?”
“How far on are you?” Jonno asks the polite surface question. His face is totally blank again, the polite façade back in place.
“Just over five months. Can you believe it, Marshall?” My mammy has turned up to crank up the fun. Kissing bothMarshall and Jonno on both cheeks, she grins at them, her cheeks flushed. Clearly she and Maggie have hit the champers hard. “Due in December. A winter baby. We can’t wait, and were all so excited when Aoife announced their news.” She’s grinning between Liam and I, wrapping an arm around Liam’s waist and giving him a little squeeze. “It’s all just so exciting and unexpected.”
My face aches with all the smiling I’m doing. Mammy continues to prattle out all my details. Who said what to whom. How ecstatic her reaction had been when she’d seen my baby bump. Visiting the doctors. Pictures of the baby.
