Page 22 of Irish Reign

But it’s not her job to worry about any of that; it’s mine. If Samantha thinks we need a house, I’ll get her one. I protect my family. So I remind her, same as I’m reminding myself: “I’m a billionaire. I can buy myself a house.”

She knows about my money. We met at a feckin’ tax haven.

“Anything else?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

She shakes her head, awed into silence for once. “I’d say thank you, but that doesn’t seem to be enough.”

I shrug.

Her eyes brighten, as if she’s just had a brilliant idea. “I could wear my collar?—”

“Not tonight.”

“Fairfax can keep an eye on Aiofe?—”

“No.”

She sits back, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Aside from making me think Thursday night was my idea?”

“It was!”

I just stare at her, focusing on her throat, where my emerald would rest if she wasn’t such a strong-willed sub.

“You decided what we did,” she amends.

I still don’t answer.

“We both needed it! Didn’t you feel better after we…”

How sweet. She doesn’t know which words to choose. I decide to toss her a lifeline. “Sure, I felt better after fucking you blind. And I want nothing more than to put you on your knees again.”

“Then why not?—”

“Because you’re my sub,piscín.You need to learn a lesson. You do not top from below. And I’m Dom enough to teach that to you.”

Her old defiance rides high. “So you’re never putting me in my collar again?”

“I’ll put you in your collar whenIdecide it’s time. Until then, you can think about what it means to truly submit.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. And I leave the room before I can change my mind.

I’m in for a week of cold showers. Maybe more, if Samantha stays as stubborn as I know she can be.

9

SAMANTHA

Ihope Braiden will relent on his no-sex rule after he spends a long day studying real estate listings, but he doesn’t. I think he might change his mind after another day spent reviewing Fishtown security with his acting Warlord, but I’m wrong. I do my best to get under his skin when I get ready for bed—strutting across the room in my high heels as I return my skirt to the closet, stretching for the covers as I climb into bed, shifting closer and closer as I find a comfortable position amid the ocean of white-cased pillows…

He mutters under his breath. But he doesn’t reach for me. Not even when he wakes with a wicked case of morning wood.

Frustrated, I consider leaving the hotel and heading across town for my morning meeting, but I’d rather convince Braiden I’m playing by his rules. So I phone my lawyer, Teddy Newland, and I ask him to come to the Rittenhouse. I secure us a meetingroom downstairs. Teddy has done enough work for the mob that he doesn’t even blink at the four men standing guard.

Or maybe he doesn’t notice them.

Teddy could be someone’s kindly grandfather, the type of man who’s always prepared with a peppermint in his pocket and a pat on the head. His fringe of gray hair makes him resemble a gentle old monk. His eyeglasses slip down his nose so frequently I wonder how much he can actually see out of the smudged lenses. A stain darkens the crimson of his Harvard tie, blurring the wordveritas—truth—on its miniature shield.

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