Page 47 of Irish Brute

“Car?”

“You negotiated for a driver. I’m a man of my word.”

As if I don’t already know that.

“Liam Murphy is one of my best men. He’ll stay with you during the day. As protection.”

That’s what he promised, the day I bargained myself into this marriage. But it feels like overkill now. “That really isn’t necessary,” I say. “I won’t even be leaving the freeport grounds.”

“Humor me.”

Those two dry words sounds better than a direct command, but I’m not fooled. If I don’t accept Liam as my protection voluntarily, I’ll be ordered to do so.

I discover a Burberry briefcase on the back seat of the town car. Its dark charcoal grip fits my hand perfectly. My computer nestles inside, gleaming silver against black. A matching metallic monogram finishes the case: SMK. Samantha Mott Kelly.

I haven’t told Braiden yet. I’m not changing my name. Especially not at work, where I’ve spent years building the identity I chose—Samantha Mott. Sam to my friends.

Yet another bridge to cross with my husband.

I’m pleased, but not surprised, that Liam is good at his job. He drives with a steady competence, handling the open freeway as well as he navigates the smaller streets by the freeport.

I sign him in as my guest at the office building. When we get upstairs, Mary greets us at the elevator. She introduces herself as she hands over Liam’s freeport ID.

“Where did that come from?” I ask.

“Mr. Kelly requested it last week. Alix signed off. If it’s a problem…”

It isn’t a problem. But I’m annoyed that I wasn’t brought into the loop.

Mr. Kelly also requested a chair for Liam, outside my office door. And he requested an email account for my guard.

None of this is Mary’s fault; it was all run through Alix. But I’m annoyed at beingmanaged.

As I open my office door, I say, “Let’s get started with?—”

But I stop, because Mr. Kelly clearly requested something else. An enormous vase sits in the center of my desk. Its emerald glass holds three dozen long-stem red roses.

The air is heavy with the flowers’ perfume. A white note card leans against the foot of the vase. I open it and read: “Welcome back to work, Mrs. Kelly.” It’s signed, “B”.

Mary says, “I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” I just nod.

I call Braiden before I turn on my computer. “Thank you,” I say, the instant he picks up. “You’re spoiling me.”

“What does that even mean?” He’s laughing at me.

“The briefcase… The roses… They’re gorgeous.”

“Like you.”

I feel a blush roll down my spine. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Compliments. I don’t de?—”

“We’ll work on that, Mrs. Kelly.”

“Work on what?” My heart is beating so fast, I don’t even try to correct him on my name. Mary comes in with my coffee before he can answer. At the same time, two lines ring on my office phone. “I have to go,” I say.