Chapter Nineteen

Maggie

Aidan was right about one thing—it was going to be hard to remain focused and get any work done now that we were involved. Every time he walked past my desk, I had to resist grabbing his tight ass. And I could see the way he was looking at me—each time I leaned over to hand him something, his eyes lingered on my boobs.

No doubt, the same erotic thoughts and memories that flooded my mind whenever I looked at him, rushed through his. I couldn’t help but think about fucking him in the car or anywhere else we’d done it. And I had to imagine he was having the same problem.

I was so hot for him, even though I’d had him the night before—and yes, even this morning—but I was insatiable. I wanted him so badly, I could taste it. My panties were soaking wet, and I tried hard to focus on work, but damn, it was hard when all I wanted to do was walk into his office, hike my skirt up, pull my panties to the side as I straddled him, and fuck him right there in his chair.

I was daydreaming about riding Aidan good and hard in his office when the phone rang. Pulling myself out of my fantasy, I cleared my throat and answered it. But before I could start with my regular canned greeting, a thick Irish accent cut me off.

“I need to speak to Aidan. Now,” the caller demanded.

I rolled my eyes but knew I needed to remain professional. So, in my friendliest receptionist voice, I asked the caller, “And may I ask who’s calling?”

“Aye, it’s not your business, love,” the mystery caller snapped. “Just put him on the line.”

Red flags started waving right off the bat. Most of the brotherhood knew how to reach Aidan directly—none of them were likely to call the front office. With alarms ringing in my head, I asked the caller to hold for a second. He tried to argue with me, but I pushed the button and placed him on hold before he could speak another word.

With a sigh and an overwhelming feeling of trepidation settling over me, I walked into Aidan’s office. “There’s someone on the phone for you. He won’t give his name, but he has an Irish accent so I assume he’s one of yours.”

“One of mine?” Aidan chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he shook his head. “Probably not. All of my guys have my private number and it hasn’t gone off at all today. I haven’t even received a text message, so...”

“Huh,” I said. “You want me to get rid of him?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. That’s my job,” I said with a laugh, turning to head back to my desk and giving a little extra swish of my ass for Aidan’s sake.

Sitting back down, I picked up the phone and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. O’Brien isn’t available right now, can I take a message?”

“He’s available,” the man said, his voice ice cold. “Put him on the phone. Now.”

I forced a smile on my face, hoping it would come through in my voice, but I couldn’t quite manage it. I didn’t appreciate being talked to in that manner and my smile faltered, settling into a scowl instead—a scowl that was more than evident in my tone when I spoke.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not available,” I snapped. “You can either leave a message or—”

“Love, shut your goddamn mouth a minute. I know he’s available because I’m looking right at him,” the man said. “Now put him on the goddamn phone.”

As soon as he said it, I looked around the office, my hair standing on end and a chill ran through my body. My heart stuttered and an adrenaline-fueled fear tore through me. My voice caught in my throat, and I couldn’t force myself to speak—this was the first time anyone had ever spoken to me like this.

I was completely dumbfounded and wasn’t sure what to say to him. “Please hold.”

I shot out of my chair and dashed to Aidan’s office—I couldn’t get to him fast enough. He took one look at me and stood up.

“Mags, what’s going on?”

“The man on the phone says he can see you,” I said, tension bordering on panic coloring my voice. “He said he was looking at you right now.”

Aidan did the same thing I did—he looked around the office as if there were a man hiding behind the potted plant or under the chairs, staring at him. There were large windows that faced the street, but we weren’t on the first floor. Not even close. No one could be looking in at us from the street—we were too high up. Which meant that somebody out there had to have binoculars or a camera and were likely in one of the buildings across the street from us.

Aidan didn’t ask me to transfer the call. Instead, he walked briskly out of his office and over to my desk, picking up the phone himself. He was still looking around as he held the phone to his ear, a look of concern on his face.

“Amon?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Amon? That name rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it right off the bat. And then it hit me—he was the man who’d come in before. It all made sense now. Or rather, at least I knew who Aidan was talking to. Amon had been a grade-A asshole when he’d stormed into my office the other day. But this—the way he’d spoken to me and the fact that he was spying on us from, presumably, across the street went well above and beyond being creepy.

Folding my arms protectively to my chest, I stood to the side and tried to discretely get out of the line of sight of the windows. I could only hear Aidan’s side of the conversation, but he was clearly pissed and had no desire to talk to Amon—whoever the fuck that was.

“No, listen to me, we have nothing to discuss,” he said, his tone as cold and rash—his Irish accent thicker than usual. “Stop calling ‘ere and harassing my receptionist. I’m going to instruct her to hang up on you the minute she hears your voice again. That’s it. This is your only feckin’ warning, lad.”

Aidan slammed the phone back down into the cradle in a huff and marched back into his office, past me, without saying a word. I swung around and stared at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Well? What was that about?” I asked.

“Nothing, Maggie. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled as he sat back down and picked up the stack of papers in front of him, trying to focus and get back to work.

“Don’t worry about it?” I asked, feeling shaken to the core. “Aidan, what if he’s the one who tried to kill you?”

Aidan looked up at me and shook his head, his expression grim. “No way. Believe me, it’s not him.”

I leaned against his doorjamb, my arms crossed over my chest and my heart still thundering away. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I am, Mags,” he said a little too curtly. “Trust me on this, all right? He’s not the guy.”

I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust him. God knew I wanted to. That Amon character had to be nothing but bad news, that much I could tell. Why Aidan felt the need to defend him, or at least, not even entertain the idea that he was the man who’d tried to kill him, was beyond me. Especially when the guy was supposedly spying on us.

I sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm down, reminding myself that this wasn’t any of my business. Well, it wasn’t my business except for the fact that I could end up in the crosshairs if Aidan screwed up. I wasn’t real keen on being collateral damage.

But then again, getting involved with someone like Aidan meant I was putting myself at risk. It wasn’t Aidan putting me in harm’s way, it was me putting me in harm’s way. I knew what I’d gotten into.

In fact, I think the element of danger associated with Aidan turned me on and made my attraction to him all the more powerful. Not that it made any sense, but it was true.

“Fine,” I muttered, turning around and returning to my desk—no extra swishing of my ass this time.