Page 34 of Irish Reign

Yeah. Right.

I hear Aiofe in the kitchen, talking to Fairfax. Her voice is light and happy, like the chittering of sparrows. I want to hear about her first day at school, about her friends and classes.

But I have another obligation.

Standing in my closet, I stare at the racks of clothes. I long to be the woman who wears pink cashmere sweaters, who dresses in flowers and plays with knee-high boots. But I need to look professional. I need protection as I go into battle. I need armor.

Regretfully, I shed the clothes I wore to Braiden’s worksite. I pull on a pair of white cotton panties. I add my most supportive bra. I step into black Givenchy trousers and a draping white top.By the time I shrug on the pants’ matching blazer and add my Dolce and Gabbana three-inch heels, I feel like a fucking warrior.

I stride down the hall to my new office, where Declan set up my computers over the weekend. He had a lot to say about the work Cole Wolf did, but I gather our information is more secure than ever, even if Declan’s feelings ended up mangled. I’m able to reach out to Sonja with a single tap of a button.

“You’re late,” she says as she answers the video call.

By three fucking minutes.

“Sorry. I was caught up in a meeting I couldn’t leave.” For just a moment, I feel Braiden’s weight, pushing me into the unfinished wall in the new Hare’s basement. I hear his breathing, harsh and desperate. I smell the dust and sweat in his hair.

“Let’s get started,” Sonja says, and I’m more grateful than ever that I left my pretty pink flowers behind. “As you know, I won’t be able to make any arguments for you tomorrow. I’ll be present solely as an advisor. After I introduce myself, I can’t make any statements to the panel. You can ask to speak with me in private, but I strongly recommend against doing that.”

“I understand.”

For the next four hours, Sonja Heller grills me. She takes me through the testimony we’ve prepared, asking questions in order. Then, she jumps around, pounding the most condemning facts. She pressures me for details, ridiculing me when I say I can’t remember aspects of the tragedy that cost three innocent people their lives. She lures me with supposed understanding, then springs traps when I use phrases like “I think” and “I guess”.

She’s a brutal, efficient lawyer, perfect for my case.

And when we’re done, I’m certain I don’t have a prayer of succeeding.

“All right,” Sonja finally says, sounding as exhausted as I feel. “Let’s call it a day. I’ll meet you outside the hearing room at noon tomorrow. By three o’clock, this will all be over.”

One way or another. She doesn’t say it, but we’re both thinking it.

By the time I get to the dining room, Aiofe is polishing off an ice cream sundae. She’s drowned it in gallon of multi-color sprinkles, and she’s using her spoon to emphasize a statement: “Sister made us sit quiet for ten whole minutes! Not a word out of anyone!”

I slip into my chair and put my napkin on my lap. My plate is filled with food—roast chicken, potatoes, and carrots, a grilled quarter lemon, and a perfectly shaped Parker House roll. I’m fairly certain I’ll puke if I try a bite of anything.

Braiden sits back in his chair at the head of the table. His own plate has been cleared. It looks like he skipped dessert, but he’s eyeing me like I’m his next course.

“Don’t start,” I say. It’s one of his favorite phrases, one of the ways he rules over all of us. I’m fully aware of how many rules I’ve broken tonight, coming late to dinner, wearing black and white, skipping a skirt, wearing underwear.

“Some people have the mistaken impression they can bank favors,” he observes, his tone so mild I know I’m in trouble up to my neck. Deeper even. Far over my head.

But I say, “Some people have never lived with a tyrant.”

Aiofe glances between us, a frown twisting her lips. “Sister Mary Elizabeth says it’s not polite to tell secrets in front of other people.”

Maybe Braiden was right. Maybe we never should have sent Aiofe to school.

But Braiden keeps his tone light as he says, “One more minute to finish that sundae, little one. And then it’s time to get ready for bed.”

“It’s not even eight o’clock! Jeannie’s bedtime is nine o’clock. And Nicky gets to stay up as late as she wants.”

“Jeannie and Nicky don’t live in this house.” But he cuts off further rebellion by adding, “If you’re in bed by quarter past, you can read till nine. You can tell Fairfax I said so.”

Aiofe wolfs down the syrupy dregs of her dessert. Dropping her spoon on the table, she springs up from her chair and bounces over to Braiden. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Braiden,” she says. “Thank you for letting me go to St. Agnes.”

He hugs her with one arm. “I’m glad you had a good day. Tomorrow will be even better.”

She crosses behind him and gives me a quick hug. “Goodnight, Samantha. I love you.”

---