Chapter 24: Fifth Avenue Fling: Chapter 24

Maria.

The beautiful brunette from the hotel. Her dress goes past her knees, but the slit leaves nothing to the imagination.

Everything is perfect. Her brown hair is styled in curls that float around her face and shoulders. Her beautiful features are done up in natural makeup, while her tailored, royal-blue dress hugs her body. Is she trying to match her outfit with Killian’s eye color?

There’s no way a guy wouldn’t find her attractive.

Her eyes scan me, assessing me.

“Hello. And you are…” she asks in a clipped tone.

“Clodagh’s my staff,” Killian casually announces behind me. “She’s serving drinks tonight.”

“Hello,” I say just as stiffly back.

Upon learning I’m just staff, Maria’s annoyance immediately dissipates.

She walks past me into the hallway and pulls Killian in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. Laughing, she murmurs something to him so I can’t hear it. He chuckles back.

“Let me take your coat,” he says, helping her lower it.

My heart burns with pain as I watch their exchange. Killian puts his hand on her lower back, just as he did with me. There’s an intimacy shared between them as if they’ve slept together.

He leads her into the lounge, but not before handing her coat to me, mouthing a “thank you.”

Turning away, I put the coat in the closet.

How could he do this to me?

How could he make me watch him with another woman?

Because my feelings don’t count.

As long as I live in his house, I can’t date anyone because I’m his convenient fuck. But not if there’s a better alternative. Everything is starting to make sense.

Teagan isn’t here. Oh God, he’s going to have sex with Maria. She’ll stay over.

I feel sick. This is why I need to go out with Alfred, the cute guy I met in the park. That’s what I need. A guy who is straight up and doesn’t blow hot and cold. And Killian can’t stop me. I have a constitutional right to pursue dick.

I slam the coat hard onto the hook.

I hope it rips.

Again, the bell rings, and I resist the urge to groan loudly.

I open the door to a tall skinny man with a thick mustache. “Good evening, sir. You must be Mayor Williams.”

He flashes me a lecherous smirk. “And who are you, lovely young lady?” he asks, taking my hand and pressing his lips to it.

“Clodagh.” I pull my hand away as soon as I can, my skin crawling.

Ew, as Teagan would say.

“Mayor Williams.” Killian walks up behind me, and the mayor steps into the hall. “Where’s your beautiful wife?”

“She’s feeling poorly, I’m afraid,” he booms. “Her varicose veins are acting up.” When he explains this, the mayor eyes me for some reason, so I make a sympathetic “oh” sound.

“This one’s too young to worry about that.” He takes a moment to admire my legs, free of varicose veins, and licks his lips.

Ew, again.

“And how do you know this lovely one, Killian? I do hope she’ll be dining beside me tonight.”

Killian places a hand on my back again, and I tense up.

I can’t bear the thought of him touching me, knowing he’s going to have sex with another woman when dinner is over.

“Clodagh’s my live-in assistant.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say politely. Please fuck off into the lounge. You’ve already kissed my hand.

The mayor’s face lights up. “Ah, you’re Irish! I can hear it now. Of course, you are, with beautiful red hair like that. I’m Irish too. My great-great-great-grandfather came from Dublin.” For fuck’s sake. One of those dudes who wants to explain his Irish ancestry to me. “Where are you from? Dublin?”

I bristle.

Assuming every Irish person is from Dublin is as insulting as assuming a Canadian person is from the States. “No, up north. Donegal.”

He lets out a bellowing laugh even though I’m not trying to be funny, then turns to Killian. “I did a tour there once. Beautiful scenery but the transport and amenities are terrible. No trains, just old cars for rental, and the roads need some real repair. It’s such a slow way of life,” he drawls, patting Killian on the arm.

I snatch his coat, glaring at him. He’s making us out to be like country bumpkins with no teeth.

“You’re better off staying down the south coast,” he adds helpfully.

“I’m sure Clodagh’s homeland is well worth visiting.” Killian runs a hand over his jawline and actually looks pissed.

I trail them toward the lounge area, steam rising from my head.

Insulting someone to their face is bad but not as bad as insulting someone in front of their face TO SOMEONE ELSE’S FACE. That takes it to a whole other level of assholery.

Except Mayor Moron isn’t finished. He turns to me, licking his lips again, and says something gibberish in appalling Irish. “Did you understand that?”

“No,” I grit out. “I have no idea what that was.” See, this is the type of guy I imagined when Marcus first told me about the job. I have a horrible vision of the mayor wearing a diaper, asking me to sing to him.

Killian’s scowl deepens. “Let’s let Clodagh get back to work.”

Can’t I just hide under all the obnoxious coats?

This is going to be a long fucking night.

***

With every minute that goes by, I get angrier, and they get drunker.

Every laugh, every stolen glance, and flirty smile makes me want to pour the wine over their heads.

With the caterers gone and dinner done, I’m alone in the kitchen, watching the party through the double doors.

Fuck. Maria is waving me over again.

Why doesn’t she allow me to pour her a large glass of wine like a normal person rather than top her up with a trickle every five minutes? Because she wants to look like a dainty wee bird in front of Killian, that’s why.

I march back to the dining area with two bottles of wine and make my way to Maria as two conversations compete loudly across the table.

NDA? I wouldn’t fucking wish these conversations on anyone; they’re so dull.

Every time I come over to fill Maria’s glass, she’s sitting closer to Killian. Soon enough, she’ll be on his lap.

She’s an advanced flirt, never missing an opportunity to ‘accidentally’ brush up against his arm. She knows she’s high value and is going for the money shot.

And Killian lets her. He’s barely looked at me except to give orders for drinks.

Tears prick my eyes, but I keep them in check.

Maria leans over to Killian, saying something to make him smile.

I stiffly lean over to pour more wine into Maria’s glass as she touches Killian’s hand.

She smiles at me gracefully, probably for Killian’s benefit. She crosses and uncrosses her legs under the table, and I know her leg has touched his.

I want to scream.

I want to vanish from the scene.

I hate him.

I absolutely hate him.

My hair grazes Killian’s shoulders as I lean over to top up his glass.

He tilts his head in my direction, almost touching his lips to my jaw.

“Thanks, Clodagh,” he says, locking eyes with me. “You’re doing a great job. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Clock off in thirty, okay?” He pauses. “I won’t need you anymore.”

I stare back at him silently. No, you won’t. You’ve made that loud and clear.

I knew he was cold-hearted and ruthless, but I didn’t think he would go to this level.

He said we were a mistake, yet I’m not allowed to date anyone else under his roof while he can parade someone in front of my nose.

The whiplash is brutal.

“I think some of the staff have a little crush, Killian,” Maria says in a voice that carries. “You should be careful. Of course, it’s completely understandable.”

Killian’s brows form a deep frown as he takes her in. He doesn’t like this comment one bit.

I don’t see how he responds, because Mayor Moron calls me over. Summons me with his fingers.

“Be a doll and bring me another scotch.” He squeezes my hand creepily with his sweaty one.

Gross. He’s drunk now; I can see it in his glazed eyes. He’s managed to get crumbs all over the floor.

“Any chance of a pint of the black stuff?” he slurs, thinking he’s funny.

“We don’t have Guinness,” I snap. But I’ll give you a black eye if you want instead.

I drop to my knees to clean the crumbs off the floor and lock eyes with Killian.

The only way I’ll get through this evening is if I turn into a husk of a human, void of the ability to feel.

I leave the dining area and head to the main bathroom on the ground floor, trying to pull myself together.

Maybe I’ll take a bottle of wine down to my studio. That way, I’ll forget about Killian and Maria having sex a few floors above me.

Minutes later, I walk out of the bathroom and collide with a chest.

“Hello, angel,” the mayor says in a voice that makes my neck hairs stand on edge.

He takes a step closer, his eyes sweeping up my body.

I bluntly move away from him, but he puts his arm up across my stomach to stop me.

What the fuck is happening?

“Excuse me.” I forcefully try to pull his arm away.

“Killian said he has an Irish present for me.” He smirks, pressing his hand to my hip. “I didn’t expect it to be so lovely.”

I freeze, feeling bile rise in my throat.

“Get off me, you sleazy old bastard,” I screech, pushing his hand away. My legs are shaking, my arms are trembling, and my pulse is pounding.

He chuckles. He has the audacity to chuckle as if this isn’t the first time he’s been called that.

“I like the fighting Irish spirit,” he drawls behind me as he walks into the bathroom. “This isn’t over, doll.”

With shaky legs, I sprint down the stairs to the lounge.

“Clodagh,” Killian calls after me as I’m about to escape into the kitchen. “Can you open another bottle of red, please? Then call it a night.”

“Yes, sir,” I say in a very loud, strange-sounding voice, causing a few of them to give me a second glance. The room is a blur; I can barely see people. “It would be my pleasure.” My voice betrays me at the end and comes out wobbly.

I hiss another “sir” at Killian.

His eyes widen, and his glare changes to something perplexed.

I storm into the kitchen and pull the cork out of a bottle of red with such force the wine nearly sprays everywhere.

An Irish present?

How dare he.

How dare he think he can pass me around to his colleagues?

He can go to hell.

I march into the dining area and head straight to Killian.

I’m beyond caring about my visa.

“This is the last time I’ll serve you and your fucking sleazy buddies,” I say with such saccharine sweetness that Killian looks confused.

The entire room goes dead. The only sound is the ticking of the large clock on the wall.

He’s about to talk when I see fucking red.

In one smooth motion, I tip the bottle of wine all over his lap.

It’s like I’ve detonated a bomb in the room.

Sharp gasps.

Silence.

The wrath of Killian Quinn cutting through me.

I set the bottle down on the table with a thud, turn on my heel, and stride out of the room.