Page 30 of Irish Brute

He drops my hair and plants his fists on his hips. “I’ve never been more serious in my life,cailín beag.”

I don’t understand the Irish, but his tone is crystal clear. He truly intends for me to beg for mercy. But if that’s whatmarriagemeans to him, then he’s absolutely mad.

I’ll call Trap and Alix; they can be here within an hour. I can get an Uber even faster. I’ve got credit cards, and I can get back to my own private condo in Delaware. Hell, I’ll go to St. Columba’s—Father Brennan will protect me when I tell him what my so-called husband has done.

And the instant I’m out of this house, Don Antonio will track me down.

I’ll be trading this barely known Irish brute for an absolutely certain Italian murderer.

Closing my eyes, I hear the explosion over my phone again, the sound of Eliza being shredded by her husband. By the man who broke into my condo building and demanded I take my cousin’s place. By the animal who killed three innocent prostitutes yesterday, all while sitting in a house of God like a moral, upright man.

“I’m waiting,” Braiden says, pulling my hair hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“It’s a fucking door!”

“Did you know my rule?”

“Yes, but?—”

“Did you break my rule?”

“I didn’t?—”

“Did you touch my fucking door?”

He’s right. I did. And I was an idiot for thinking I could get away with it.

“Fine,” I say, and I give him what he wants. “Please don’t make me leave.”

His laugh sounds like the slipping gravel that starts an avalanche. “You can do better than that.”

I swallow my rage. I just want to get off my knees and be done with this embarrassing scene. “Please forgive me,” I say. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have touched the door.”

“Samantha…” he chides.

That’s when I get it, when I finally understand what he expects. He said it to me in the safe room.You’ll take my cock down your throat…

I reach for his belt buckle. I can suck him off fast and be done with this degradation. He said I’d have to ask for it. So I lick my lips and look up at him through my lashes and say, “Let me prove how sorry I am.”

He shakes his head like I’ve failed yet another test. “Not today,cailín beag.”

I’ve never known a man to pass up a freely offered blowjob. I ignore his words and try to work his zipper. Once I’ve got him in my mouth, he’ll forget how much he wants to humiliate me. “Let me make this right,” I say, stroking the heavy erection in his pants.

“There’s only one way you’re getting out of this. And sucking my cock isn’t it.”

“What do youwantfrom me?” My voice goes sharp, and I’m horrified to realize I’m about to cry.

“I want to know you won’t stir up trouble the instant my back is turned. I want to know I can trust you. I want to know you’re safe.”

The intensity of his tone twists something beneath my breastbone. I stare at the rug, my thoughts as tangled as the complicated turns of crimson and bronze in the design. I can’t find a path through this. I can’t make a decision.

I’m lost.

I’m a frightened child and a dedicated student and a nameless fugitive and a fierce lawyer and a mourning cousin and a dazed wife. I’m paralyzed by everything I am, by all my choices, by all the ways I can possibly be wrong.

“Look at me,” he says, and there’s that tone again, the one I can’t deny. Once his eyes pin my soul, he says a single word, simple and unadorned: “Beg.”

And all my choices narrow down to one. Braiden makes things simple. Easy. Right.