Flynn scoffs. “Is a bloody palace fine? The accommodations couldn’t be better. I’m happy to stay on for as long as you’ll have me.” He chuckles as we head back in, glancing around the mansion with clear appreciation for his surroundings. “You might think of this as a punishment, Sean, but all I see is the Council rewarding their best attack dog.”
“Well, they see it as a punishment, too,” I tell him flatly. “But keep your mouth shut about that, alright? I haven’t spoken to Maeve about how this all came about, and I don’t intend to. It won’t help anything.”
“Ah.” Flynn gives me a knowing look, and I glare at him. I’m in no mood for his remarks on that subject. “Speak of the devil,” he says a moment later, and my heart thumps hard in my chest as I follow where he’s looking.
Through the doorway to the dining room, I can see Maeve sitting at the table, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a form-fitting sweater that clings to her. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and I catch a glimpse of the bandage on her arm, the outline of it just visible under the sweater.
She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest tight.
Her eyes widen a bit when I walk in with Flynn. “Who is this?” she asks curiously, and I see Flynn’s entire demeanor shift. The focused operative disappears, replaced by the charming playboy I know too well. He steps forward with that easy smile that's gotten him into more beds than I can count.
"You must be Maeve," he says, his voice warm and friendly. "I'm Flynn O'Neill. Sean's considerably more pleasant colleague."
He extends his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Maeve takes it. I watch Flynn's fingers close around hers, watch the wayhe holds her hand just a fraction too long, and something dark and ugly twists in my gut.
He can’t help it, I know that very well. He’s not flirting with her on purpose or trying to piss me off; it comes to him as naturally as breathing—both of those things. But my fingers curl against my palm as I fight the urge to snatch his hand away from hers.
"It's nice to meet you," Maeve says softly. She glances at me, uncertain, and I realize I'm standing there with my hands clenched into fists, my jaw tight enough to crack teeth.
"Flynn's here to help with security," I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "He'll be staying for a while."
"Oh." Maeve pulls her hand back from Flynn's, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Well… sit. Breakfast will be served in a minute."
“Fantastic. I’m starving,” Flynn says easily. "I'd love a cup of tea, actually. Mind if I sit?” He gestures to the chair next to Maeve, on her right, and I feel my teeth grind together.
Yes. I fucking mind.
The thought comes unbidden, savage and possessive. I want to tell Flynn to back the fuck off, to stop looking at my wife like she's something he can charm into bed. Want to grab Maeve and pull her away from him, take her back to either my bed or hers, and mark her so thoroughly that no one would ever question who she belongs to.
The intensity of the feeling shocks me into silence.
"I... okay," Maeve says, offering Flynn a tentative smile, just as Mrs. Brady comes into the room.
“Hello there, dear,” she says with a smile at Flynn. “Would you like tea?”
“I’d love some.” Flynn flashes her the same flirtatious grin, which should ease the churning in my stomach, but it doesn’t.
“And how do you take it? With honey? Sugar?”
“Either is fine. So long as it’s sweet like me.” Flynn flashes her a wink, and I swear to Christ I'm going to break his nose.
Mrs. Brady looks as if she’s about to roll her eyes, too, as she begins to pour tea for the three of us. Flynn keeps up an easy stream of conversation, which I barely hear, as I watch Maeve’s face. She’s smiling a bit more now, her focus on him and Mrs. Brady, and I can see the tension slowly leaving her shoulders.
She reaches for one of the cups and hands it to me. “Here,” she says, and the moment her gaze flicks to mine, I can see her tense again. It makes my stomach twist.
I force myself to eat my breakfast as Flynn keeps the conversation going, asking Maeve questions about the estate and Boston and how she’s settling in. She answers easily, her tone more relaxed and calm than it ever is with me, and it makes my food stick in my throat with every bite.
“I’ll show Flynn around, give him a tour of the place,” she says when we’re finishing up. “If that’s alright? I’m sure you have better things to do with your time, Sean.”
Flynn raises an eyebrow at me, and I know I’m going to sound like a jealous asshole if I sayno. Maeve is the lady of the house, she’s the one whoshouldbe giving Flynn a tour and making sure he’s settled in and all that bullshit.
“Sure,” I manage. “I have work to do.”
I shove my chair back from the table and leave without waiting for a response. I can't sit there another second watching Flynn flirt with my wife, watching her respond to his easy charm when she flinches every time I come near her.
In my office, I slam the door harder than necessary and lean against it, breathing hard. My heart is pounding like I've just run a marathon, and my hands are shaking with the urge to go back out there and physically remove Flynn from Maeve's presence.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
