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Corbin rounds the desk, coming to my chair. He leans over, the fresh scent of linen wafting near me. I stretch my neck, and he presses a kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, he brushes a knuckle along my cheek. “I’m going to talk to your brother about getting more security on you. Make sure he’s okay with me sending a car over to the house.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
Corbin smiles, standing upright. He adjusts the buttons on his jacket, then shoots me a wink before heading out of the office.
Moments go by as I try to focus on the paperwork sprawled on my desk, but I can’t. Not with the food Scotty brought me sitting there, haunting me. I haven’t been to Fiore’s in years. Not since the last time he’d taken me.
My foot taps against the wooden leg of my desk at a steady pace. A fast pace. I have no idea what the hell that shit fest was between them, but I don’t like it. Corbin obviously picked up on it, too. I hate the emotions Scotty stirs inside of me, meanwhile Corbin can’t even make me blush.
The document I’m staring at glares back. Garbled words and letters dancing at me with disgust.
I can’t concentrate on it when Scotty’s words fill my brain. When his voice is so clear and his scent is still here, wafting around me. It’s taunting me and it’s too fucking much. Our half-eaten food glares at me from across the desk.
My heart continues to hammer, as I try to shove that memory from my poor mind. That day? That was the day I thought I could want more from him. That was the day my harmless childhood crush finally took root, and planted the silly little notion that he could ever see me as more than Saoirse Murphy, the little red head they called Wildfire because when her brothers angered her, she’d scream in a fit of rage and start clawing at anyone who came near her.
Those weren’t my finest moments, I’ll admit. But I was the youngest of five and the only girl. So my fits were never corrected, and Da spoiled me with not only love and affection, but with a bottomless cash flow and anything a girl could want. I’m a princess, just like both Hugh and Scotty call me, and the other guards too, I’m sure.
I’m not dumb anymore, though. I’m not the naïve little girl who falls for tricks. Scotty may have set the bar high for me that day. He may have made it so that I came to expect men I’m dating to go out of their way to make me feel included in dinner choices.
But I know the manipulative tactics he took in order to get me to eat. And now, staring at the food across from me, I want to slap him across his face for doing it all over again. For making me feel those things that I know he’ll never want form me, and for reminding me how fucking badly I’m settling with Corbin.
I don’t have a choice, though. I came to Callum and I asked for this. I asked for him to arrange a marriage so I didn’t have to be alone anymore. And this agreement with Corbin? I’d make it work. Being with him means an easier life. No ties to the Mob. It’s stability, and our children will have the social status that I didn’t. They won’t be considered to be less than their classmates.
It’ll be work, but what marriage isn’t? And I can put in the work easily. I just need to get into that mindset. I’d make anything work when Scotty so clearly isn’t going to let me get in the way of his job.
And honestly, I don’t need that. I don’t need to come second to the Mafia. I deserve more. I suck in a breath, then stand. Leaning over my desk, I reach across to grab the food. And, into the trash it goes. I don’t need these reminders. And Sean will not put Jameson Scott Burne on my detail ever again. I’ll be sure of it.
Chapter Eleven
Callum’spenthouseisfilledwith the Murphy siblings when Saoirse and I arrive for dinner. She’s still not speaking to me. Her anger had probably been diffusing when I brought her breakfast, but I only managed to make it worse when I was a sarcastic asshole to theboyfriend.
I growl, tightening my hands into fists at my side. The mere thought of Corbin McClellan makes me want to punch things. I’m not typically an angry person. I like to think I keep my PTSD in check. I see a therapist to talk about my feelings, and I don’t turn to drugs, alcohol, or violent outlets to satiate my rage. I use healthy outlets, like working out and woodworking, and when those don’t ease the muscle tension, I get massages. If things get really bad, I take myself for a spin in my dad’s old boat. Renovating it had been a particularly peaceful project, and riding it on the bay has always eased all the unsettling emotions that wrangle inside of me.
But CorbinfuckingMcClellan makes me want to break someone’s jaw.Hisjaw in particular. I stuff my hands into my pockets, not wanting the room to read my anger. My jaw aches from all the teeth grinding I’ve been doing today, too. It’s definitely time to schedule one of those healthy habits before I snap.
“Saoirse is here,” Haley says. Brown hair shoots into my peripheral as Callum Murphy’s fiancé hurries toward us.
Saoirse meets her half way in the open concept room, where the kitchen and living area connect, and they embrace as a greeting. Haley is a good three inches shorter than Saoirse, but in heels she’s lucky if she’s damn near my girl’s shoulders.
My nose flickers at that hiccup. I can’t refer to her as my girl. Not when I pushed her into the arms of another man before ever even giving us a chance.
“Finally,” Sean says, a groan escaping his lips. “I’m fucking starving and Cal won’t let Haley feed us until this stupid family meeting is over.”
Saoirse pulls from Haley, who comes over to hug me next. I was with her for a few months between the time I left Saoirse’s detail and getting shot, and she’s the doctor who saved my life. I’m forever grateful to her.
I squeeze her extra tight, and she rubs my back, a silent conversation passing between us. Every time I see her, I make sure she knows how indebted I am to her. We’ve shared secrets, and our bond has grown because of that, too.
Haley pulls away, sniffling.
“What’s wrong?” Saoirse asks, reaching for Haley’s hand. “Why are you crying? Has someone died?”
Saoirse whips her head around, her free hand silently counting the members in the room, as if taking inventory of her family members. When she notices all of the siblings are here, her shoulders relax.
“No one is dead,” Haley promises.
“Get your arses over here,” Callum demands. He’s sitting on the couch, a glass of whiskey in one hand. His voice is deep and commanding. Serious, like he’s about to deliver a punishment, but he’s smirking and his shoulders are relaxed.
I’ve learned to read each of the siblings over the years, and even Haley more recently. I can practically read their minds through their body language. Callum has an announcement to make, and it’s one he’s excited about.
