Page 7 of Royal Bargain
I meet his gaze, but when I don’t answer, he nods, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Brannagan, you know I need a campaign manager who can quickly and efficiently get the ball rolling on any and all projects throughout the day with minimal to no supervision.”
“I can!” I insist, frustration rippling through me as I lean against the desk. “You just caught me off-guard.”
“Politics moves at lightning speed,” Burns says, voice flat. “Polling results can change at the drop of a hat. Poll numbers can change overnight. We can't afford distractions.”
A slow burn of shame envelops me, making me grit my teeth to keep my emotions in check. “Understood, sir,” I say, trying to ignore the pressure pushing against my chest like a heavy weight.
Burns walks away, stopping at the coffee pot to pour himself a cup, and as he’s distracted talking to one of the campaign staffers, I take a moment to breathe, to try to get my shit together.
Shit.
I can’t afford to screw this up, dammit. This was supposed to be my chance to show the rest of my family how much more I was capable of handling. This was supposed to be a test of my merit, and it seems I’m already failing spectacularly.
Rory’s voice echoes sharply in my head.“You’re just the family screw-up…”
It’s a bitter reminder of why I'm near the bottom of the pecking order, despite being third-born.
“Fuck,” I whisper, curling my fingers into a fist, digging my nails into my palms. “I have to make this right.”
Once I see the staffer leave Burns’s vicinity, I head over under the pretense of grabbing a little cup of water.
“Sorry about all that with the flyer,” I say, my heart hammering in my chest, a knot in my stomach. “I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
Burns side-eyes me for a moment as he stirs creamer into his paper cup, then turns to face me as he tosses the stick into the metal can. Something softens in his gaze as he reachesout, putting a hand on my shoulder. The sudden pressure is somehow grounding, and I breathe out slowly.
“Look,” he says, pointing his cup at me. “I hired you for a reason, Liam. And it wasn’t just your flowery little speech at the event. You’re intuitive, driven, and I've seen how you handle things for your brothers.”
I swallow. His words are prying at the edges of my self-doubt, and I give him a half-hearted smile.
“I know you can do this,” he says. “You just need to get out of your head. Let that intuition guide you on this, Liam. Show me that I made the right choice, taking a chance on you.”
The last sharp corners of my shaken confidence are chipped away, and I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my chest. Burns believes in me. Even if I feel like a complete screw-up, he still believes in me.
“Thank you, sir,’ I say, sincerity in my tone. “I’m going to have one of our social media team members work on the flyer. I’m going to get in touch with Mrs. Ashton, then go over the CAP polling data with the senior staffers. Once that’s done, we can meet this afternoon to discuss the next steps in your campaign, Senator.”
Burns’s smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning in return.
“There’s the Liam Brannagan I was looking for,” he says, reaching his fist out to gently bump mine. “I knew you had it in you.”
Buoyed by my newfound confidence, I hand over the flyer responsibilities to Lana, Burns’s social media manager, and immediately get on the phone with Ms. Ashton, arranging for a meeting with Burns to “discuss” her donation.
The rest of the morning is spent poring over polling data, making more calls, and arranging a town hall meeting for Burns.
It’s only when I’m in the middle of writing out notes for myself that I stop for a moment to take this all in, to allow myself to feel the spark of this moment.
I never knew I could enjoy taking charge so much.
I’d always been under Kellan and Rory’s authority, working for them, taking orders, and playing the part of a dutiful sibling. But this has been a breath of fresh air, showing me that there is more to life than cleaning up after a hit or paying someone off to stay quiet.
Something tightens in my chest as my mind moves to the other weight of responsibility that I’ve been avoiding—namely, my child.
I frown, staring into space for a moment. No matter how tense the relationship between Annika and me might be, I have to step up and be there for my kid. There’s no question about that.
Finishing up with my notes, I reach for my phone and text her, asking for her location.
The knot returns to my stomach as I wait for her reply, trying to busy myself with emails so I don’t get the chance to look at my phone. But when it chimes, I nearly jump out of my seat as I scan the text response from my ex.
Ana: 1241 Labman Rd, Apt 211.
