I’m a relatively intelligent man. I was educated at Trinity College in Dublin, graduated with high marks, and consider myself to be gifted in both common sense as well as academics. However, for some reason, I’m standing there repeating everything she says like a feckin’ parrot.
“An intimate nature,” she clarifies.
Although I already know the answer, something compels me to ask anyway. “Aren’t you married?”
Gloria gets up from the desk and wraps her index finger around the tie that I spent the entire meeting trying to prevent from choking me. Licking her lips, she pulls it out of my jacket and wraps it around her fist, pulling our chests together as she stands up on her tiptoes. “Technicality. We have an understanding. I understand his business ventures have to come first…and he understands that I have to come…repeatedly.”
This…bitch.
At first my heart thumps and sinks into the pit of my stomach. Then a hot blaze of irritation shoots through me. I’m about to shut this shite down right now. “While I’m flattered, ma’am—”
“Gloria…”
“I’m not interested.” An unwelcomed feeling pricks my skin. I’ve kept myself under the radar at Tate & Cane for two years. I’m the best damn photographer at this company and don’t get involved in anyone’s bullshite. I’ve prided myself on making my own way in this world and not bowing down to anyone. However, by the hard look in Gloria’s eye, a moment of weakness to ensure my daughter had the best education has now come back to bite me in the arse.
Her gaze briefly lowers to my zipper and her mouth curves in a knowing smile. “It’s a shame about the overcrowding at Ravenhill, don’t you think?”
“What?”
“That’s the thing about gifts, Niall. What’s that phrase, easy come easy go?” Lifting a hand, she traces it along the waistband of my slacks.
I think I’m a relatively easygoing guy. Give me a pint of the black stuff, Guinness, a good rugby match, and a regular piece of arse, and I’m a happy guy. I don’t bother anyone, I don’t start shite, and I’m not out to screw anyone over. However, screw with my kid, and I will become your worst nightmare.
Reaching down, I smack her hand away from my belt with more force than necessary. “Are you threatening my daughter?”
“Correction,” she says, raising a finger to emphasize her point. “I’m threatening your jobandyour daughter. One word from me and Sophie’s kicked out of Ravenhill and learning addition next to juvenile delinquents. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it because you’ll be out on your ass peddling pictures in Central Park with a can and a cardboard sign.”
I take a step back and stare into her cold green eyes. “You’re bluffing.”
Annoyance flashes across her face and she laughs bitterly. “Am I? All I need to do is tell the headmaster that you falsified Sophie’s records and then tell Navarro that you offered sex to keep me quiet when I found out about it. Everything you have will be gone in an instant, Niall.”
“I didn’t falsify anything and you know it.”
“Who do you think they’re going be believe? A board member, or a second-rate photographer?”
“Why do you even care?” I whisper, warning dripping from every word.
“I’m bored,” she says by way of an explanation as she drops her eyes to my pants again. “And I want to know if your cock is as big as your sanctimonious Irish morals.”
At this point I should’ve just told her to eat shite and die. Maybe to take the school and the job and shove it up her aerobicized arse. But unfortunately, that’s not what comes out. No, what comes out of my mouth is so much worse. So much more detrimental to my financial well-being.
“I’m engaged,” I blurt out.
I have no idea what possesses me to say the words. I obviously have no forethought in the matter, or I’d have considered the fact that, eventually, I’ll have to provide an actual living, breathing woman as proof. And not the blow-up variety currently occupying Vince’s bedroom.
“What?” Her voice shrieks a little as she pulls away and fists her hands by her side.
“I’m engaged,” I repeat, putting a slight question at the end of my statement.
Feckin’ hell, man up, Niall. If you’re going to sell this, stop being a pussy.
Gloria’s jaw drops, then she quickly regains her composure and narrows her eyes in suspicion. “When did this happen?”
Think, think, think.
“Recently.”Yeah, like two seconds ago.“We met a couple of months ago. We’ve kept it low key.”
Flattening her fire-engine-red lips, Gloria gives a hardened laugh, straightening her spine and running a hand down the length of her suit jacket. “I think you’re full of shit, Niall. I want to meet her. Bring her to the gala.”
