“Do I have to have a reason to spoil my girl?” Snaking my arm around her waist, I pull her closer as the car begins to move.
Fuck me, that perfume is going to be the death of me. She’s so perfect, so effortlessly elegant. The makeup artist kept it all-natural to enhance her beauty, not mask it, though I can tell with a glance that there are several freckles hidden beneath the foundation. I know how many she has—one hundred and twenty-three, to be exact. That’s just on her face. Only thirty-two are obvious; the rest blend in so seamlessly with her skin that you’d never know they were there. I’ve memorised their placement, and I love each one as if it were a constellation on her skin. I can tell you every part of my girl, including how many swirls are in each fingertip; her left hand has right looped prints; and her right handed prints and left looped. I don’t need any forensic analysis to identify her. She is mine, I know every inch of her like the back of my hand.
“You said this restaurant has a Michelin star?” She asks, turning to me, her eyes aglow with curiosity.
“Two,” Sliding my hand under the slip of her dress, I feel the goosebumps on her skin as I edge closer, “But nothing they serve is going to taste as good as you.”
Her smile widens, revealing the dimples that only appearwhen she’s genuinely happy. Lifting her flute to her lips, she drinks half the glass in one gulp. As soon as her lips are free, I jump at the chance to kiss her, savouring the taste of champagne on her tongue.
My hand slides further up her thigh, feeling the heat radiating from her body as she leans into my touch. Her hand presses against my chest, a silent request for me to slow down.
Her eyes jump to the driver, a reminder that we are not alone in the car.
My first reaction is to tell her to let him watch. Then I think of him seeing even a shred of her body, and I’ve already mentally fired two bullets through his skull. “I’ll behave,” I growl, pulling back slightly and resting my hand on her knee.
We roll to a stop twenty minutes later. After a quick check of our surroundings, I extend my hand, help Katie out of the car, and guide her towards the entrance of the restaurant. My eyes practically roll back into my skull when I spot another couple waiting to be seated. “Fuck off.”
“Aiden?” Éabha turns fully; her eyes flit from me to Katie and back again.
“What are you doing here? Aren’t you needed back at the chocolate factory?” Katie squeezes my hand; neither of us were prepared to run into my ex-wife tonight.
If looks could kill, the midget would have pulled my guts out of my arse and strangled me with them.
She plasters on a venomous smile, one that turns genuinely warm when she extends a hand to Katie. “You must be Katie, I’m Éabha.”
“I know,” Katie says, shaking Éabha’s hand firmly. It sounds blunt, but I know Katie has already gone down a wormhole of overthinking right now. She’s fine in socialsituations once she’s prepared for them; these kinds of surprises overwhelm her.
“I’m Joe.” I catch his wrist before his hand can reach Katie’s. His hazel eyes lock on mine.
“Careful now, Grimsby; I let these wandering hands off the hook once.” I look at Éabha, who does not so much as blink. “I won’t excuse a second offense.”
“He was making an introduction,” Éabha says calmly, her tone a stark contrast to my own.
“He has a mouth, you should know. I believe he used it on you on several occasions while we were still married.” I raise an eyebrow at her, not missing the slight smirk on her lips.
“I’m well aware of his capabilities with his mouth,” she continues, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Your table is ready.” I gesture to the hostess, Éabha and Joe quickly turn, following her to their table.
“Should we go?” Katie shifts uncomfortably in her heels.
“No.” Pulling her against me, I hold her steady. “I’m sorry. That was…”
“Awkward.”
“Just a smidge,” Pressing my lips to her crown, I reassure her, “I’m all yours now.” The hostess returns with a knowing smile, leading us to our table, directly across from my ex-wife. I weigh up my options; asking for another table is not an option; the place is packed. I could sit directly facing Éabha, or put my back to her, forcing Katie to face her instead. I choose the former, wanting to protect Katie from any potential discomfort.
Reaching for Katie’s hand as soon as we sit down, I give it a reassuring squeeze.
“Did you come here a lot with—”
I scoff too loudly, drawing the eye of several nearby diners. Clearing my throat, I lower my voice so only she can hear me. “No, bug. I never brought her here. I never brought anyone here bar you. To be honest,” I lean back, allowing our server to fill our glasses and hand us the menus. I wait a beat after they stalk off to give us a moment, then add, “I didn’t realise Éabha ate anything that didn’t come out of a takeout bag.” Opening my menu, I catch Katie’s lips twisting into a sweet grin. “I guess money changes people.”
Katie chuckles softly, shaking her head. “So, no hostility towards her then?”
Cheeky bitch.
I try to keep a straight face and fail miserably. Speaking through my teeth, I say, “She fucked him in the back of his car while we were still technically married.”
