Page 16 of Filthy Business (Obsessive Age Gap #1)

Magnus

Two nights a week weren’t enough. I’d tried to abide by the contract rules since Iris moved into her new apartment. To give her space.

Then came the weekend she vanished to see her mother in Norwich. I was beside myself, tracking her little dot on our shared location like a madman.

She wasn’t pregnant yet.

But it had only been two weeks since she left my apartment.

No. This wasn’t working for me.

I needed her locked down.

Tonight.

For life.

I messaged Nick to bring the car around. It was time to make things official. Work could wait. It wasn't going anywhere, and if I played my cards right, neither was Iris.

***

I knocked on her door and waited.

Flowers, wine, assorted gifts and a 5.75 carat yellow diamond engagement ring.

There was no answer. I frowned, and checked my phone before I pondered using the spare key I had.

Iris: The legal team invited me out for dinner and drinks tonight. I will be home between 10-11.

I missed our lunch due to a meeting across the city, but I should've checked my phone. There were two unmarried men in the legal team.

Fuck.

Younger men.

Fuck.

I messaged Benedict to see if he wanted to join me for drinks.

Benedict: Since it’s Friday, I can grace you with my delightful presence. Where are you taking me?

I shook my head and checked her location before sending it to him.

Benedict: Oooh. You're taking me out for dinner too? I hope you don't expect anything in return. I’m not contractually obligated to.

Me: I hope your third wife rinses you out until your balls are like tiny dried-up raisins.

Benedict: Don't insult my future wife and hurry up. I’m leaving in ten.

I opened the door to Iris’s apartment, left the flowers in a vase on her kitchen counter, the gifts on the table, then locked up and headed to my car.

The ring stayed with me because I was determined to get it on her finger tonight. On the way to the restaurant, I messaged Warren—he had twenty hours to get Leona’s lawyer to accept the current offer before I pulled it.

Fuck my life.

They had left the restaurant and gone to a pub.

I messaged the new location to Benedict.

Benedict: Cheap bastard skipping out on dinner. Just so you know, you can't take advantage of me. I can hold my liquor.

Me: You cock-sucker. You're as rich as I am.

Benedict: Not since your last expansion. Drinks are on you. But if you decide to rub your new hot toy in my face, I’m heading home.

I smiled at the jealous bastard—smug and content.

Until I thought of my Iris among the wolves.

They were probably circling around her.

***

“This is nice. Why haven’t you brought me here before?”

Benedict said, looking around the bar.

“Mmm,”

I replied, staring at the far corner where Iris sat.

She wore a tight, ribbed navy dress with a matching short jacket. It was so fucking sexy on her, yet entirely appropriate for work—except for those pointed fuck-me red heels and the matching lips and nails.

I clocked every appreciative look she received and silently noted each one of those bastards’ names. It was time to speak to Li-hua and start hiring more women. Gender equality mattered to me.

“Are you even listening to me? No wonder your marriage didn’t work out,”

Benedict muttered.

“Sorry, I thought I saw someone from work,”

I said, trying to focus on Benedict again.

Lucky bastard—his lighter brown hair hid the grey, but his miserable face made up for it.

“What have you been up to?”

I asked, sipping my drink while he eyed me suspiciously.

His head snapped around to where I’d been staring.

“She is here, isn’t she? Which one is she?”

he asked, twisting around in his chair.

I leaned forward and slapped his shoulder.

“Don’t make it so fucking obvious,”

I snapped.

“You’re just using me. This is emotionally damaging to my self-esteem.”

Why couldn’t I have had a normal friend?

I glanced at Iris, but she hadn’t clocked us yet.

“Oh, damn. Is it the hot blonde? The one in that sexy—”

I kicked his leg.

“Ow—fuckkkk,”

he hissed, turning around and rubbing his shin.

“Watch your mouth. She is my future wife,”

I said with a smirk.

“What?! It’s been two to three weeks. What did I tell you?”

he said, wide-eyed and horrified.

“There is more to Iris than meets the eye, my friend. The bonus is that she’s completely the opposite of Leona. And if I’m lucky, she’ll be pregnant in a few weeks’ time,”

I said, patiently waiting for the implosion.

“I mean, the amount I’ve come inside her—it should be a given.”

He gaped at me, stupefied into silence.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

he finally gasped.

He stared at me as if we hadn’t known each other for the last twenty-seven years. I clinked my glass against his and gulped the aged Macallan down.

“You barely know her, Magnus. What are you thinking?”

I sighed and looked him in the eye.

“I’ve been unhappy for decades. I remained faithful to my marriage—and for what? I’ve found someone warm, caring, smart, funny, and sexy as hell. I won’t let Iris slip away from me,”

I asserted.

“Let me at least do a background check on her,”

he said with a resigned look before clinking my empty glass and raising his own.

“May your second marriage be your last, my friend.”

I smiled faintly and nodded to him. I was glad that he understood, because I doubted many people would.

“I guess I should get a round in to celebrate, but I’m still doing a background check on her,”

he said, standing up.

He wasn’t gone long when I saw Jamieson place his hand on Iris’s. My eyes froze on their table, locked in on their hands. Iris yanked her hand away and scowled at Connor. I was already standing by the time she began reprimanding him.

She hadn’t finished by the time I reached over their table and yanked him by his shirt and tie, dragging him across the table. Glasses fell and smashed.

Much like my fist into his face.

Again and again.

Until blood smeared my knuckles.

His pretty young face wasn’t so pretty now.

“Holy fuck, Magnus. Why couldn’t you have waited for me? I could’ve gotten so many hits on my new TikTok account,”

Benedict said from behind me.

I had no clue what he was talking about. When I dropped Jamieson, I ignored the whispers and stared at Iris.

Her eyes welled with tears, and my heart stopped. She was disgusted by my violence.

But then she sniffed—and gave me a quivering smile.

I held out my clean hand to her, and chairs scraped the floor as people moved out of the way.

“No one touches my fiancée,”

I told them as Iris gripped my hand and stepped closer.

“This fucking guy,”

Benedict muttered.