Page 66 of Irish Reign

My second-floor room is safe and clean. I kick off my shoes and strip down to my underwear, just like I did in Russo’s gallery. Shaking my head in fruitless hopes of driving away the image, I collapse backward on the bed.

That’s a mistake. My tattoo ignites under the weight of my body. For the first time, I wonder about the consequences of losing Paolo’s protective dressing. Pain, I can manage. Infection is something else entirely.

I roll over to my side and pull a pillow to my chest like I’m hugging a teddy bear. I need to sleep. I need my body to recover.I need my mind to stop replaying images from my fight with Braiden.

Pick up your fucking collar.

This is all a game to you?

You’re a vicious cunt.

I can’t recall when I last ate a real meal, but I remember every hateful word Braiden said to me tonight. Every bitter response I threw back.

I stare at the clock until my eyes feel like they’ve been battered and fried. I roll to my other side and study the wall for what feels like hours, but when I check, barely twenty minutes have passed. I lie on my stomach, trying to relax every muscle in my body, one by one, but I can’t get past the iron bar of my diaphragm.

At 4:30, I give up and take a shower, pitifully grateful for the hotel’s shampoo and conditioner. When I dry myself, I dab at my tattoo carefully. The towel comes away clean—one minor mercy.

I’m at my freeport desk by 5:30. If Mary’s surprised when she gets in at eight, she covers it well.

I do my best to turn myself into a machine. Answer email. Draft a contract. Review a brief. Think about the law, think about the freeport, think about our clients, but don’t ever allow myself to feel.

I’m not perfect. I close my eyes over my fourth cup of coffee, and I can see my collar trapped beneath Braiden’s shoe. I reach for a trademark file and my back twists; I wonder if that cursed symbol on my spine is bleeding through my top. I read a proposed tax regulation for the seventh time, and I taste the whiskey on Braiden’s breath when I first arrived home, when he kissed me, when he still loved me.

It’s dark outside when Mary comes in, securing a stack of corporate filings with her chin. “These have to be finalized bynext Tuesday,” she says. “Do you want to take them with you or should I overnight them up to Ardmore?”

“I won’t be working at Ardmore anymore.”

Her eyebrows leap, but she’s too well-trained to say anything out loud. It only takes her a few seconds to regroup. “I’ll just need your local address then.”

I think I’m fine. I think I have this all under control. I think I’m managing the absolute destruction of my life perfectly.

But Mary’s matter-of-fact request sparks tears in my eyes. I try not to blink, try not to give in, and I could probably succeed if I’d had even an hour of sleep last night. If I’d had anything to eat today. If my tattoo wasn’t burning like Russo branded me, instead of forcing ink under my skin.

“Sam…” Mary says as I start to cry.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

She puts down the filings and studies my desk. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she hurries out to her own station. She comes back with a jumbo box of Kleenex.

“I don’t need that,” I lie again.

“What happened?” she asks, perching on one of my visitor’s chairs and folding her feet beneath her—crisscross, applesauce.

“I…” I don’t know where to start. I can’t imagine how to explain. So I just skip to the end. “It’s over.”

“Again,” Mary says, because she’s heard this twice before.

“For real, this time. He said…”

I can’t even put together the words he said. But Mary puffs up with indignation, like a robin fending off a bitter wind. “That bastard!”

I shrug. Maybe Braidenisa bastard. Maybe I’m a bitch. Maybe we were doomed from the start, from the moment he held back my hair as I vomited into the snow in front of the Delaware tax office.

“You gave up your condo, didn’t you?” Mary asks, like I’m doing my part now, holding up my end of our conversation.

I nod, because that’s easier than words. I didn’t want to let it go. I didn’t want to be alone. I only got rid of it because Braiden wanted…

Braiden wanted… Braiden said… Braiden did…

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