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To O’Reilly’s credit, he keeps his face unreadable with that admission. “I hear you’re quite close with your parents.”
“Very,” she confirms. “I’m not sure what to share here, how it will be received. I only found out about you a week and a half ago, so while you’ve had over two decades to wonder about me, I’ve had days. I don’t know if this will make it easier or if it will be hurtful, but all I can offer is my truth. Which is to say, the man and woman who raised me are the best human beings on the planet. They gave everything they had so I could have a fairy tale-worthy childhood. I was loved and valued and encouraged.” Tears brim in her eyes, but she discreetly blinks them away before they fall. “I hope that brings you some peace.”
That’s my girl. So brave and well spoken. No apologizing and no lying. I’m overwhelmed with pride and awe.
O’Reilly smiles, doing his best to cut the tension, which is so thick that it’s laborious to breathe. “It does, Ivy. I only wanted the best for you. You have your mother’s beauty, but you’ve obviously inherited my ability to phrase truth with eloquence. I expect you to do well.”
She laughs, but it’s forced, her thumb dusting over my hand for the strength she already possesses. “I’m sure nature has something to do with it. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t credit my father—the manwho raised me. He worked tirelessly to help me communicate well, to read people. It didn’t come naturally.”
Her fierce love for Tom won’t allow him to be discredited. I hope O’Reilly recognizes that for the staggering loyalty it is and not a slight.
“Understood,” he says. “It sounds as though I have an admirable man to thank, in addition to your mother. Do you have any questions for me?”
She drinks in a cleansing breath. “About the position, yes. I’m sure, in time, more personal ones will surface. What will my duties be?”
He relaxes a bit in his chair, evidently entering a more comfortable talking point. “The specifics won’t be revealed until you’ve passed your trial. But I can tell you that you’ll be responsible for making the final decisions for KORT as a whole—one of five who vote on issues. As far as our domain goes, you’ll delegate much of the work, building files on prospective politicians, judges, law enforcement, and several other government roles. You’ll be responsible for reviewing those files, meeting with potential candidates, and assessing those who mesh with our goals. We handle all of that. It’s our insight that determines those in line to be the country’s leaders. Much of my choosing has often stemmed from gut feelings, which can’t be taught. But you’ll find your way.”
Her breath catches, tone strained again, hand squeezing the life out of mine. “Maybe there’s something to that nature angle. My gut is generally spot-on. I rely on it far more than my thoughts.”
O’Reilly grins, his eyes crinkling in a delighted twinkle. She threw him a bone, and the man is eating it up. “That’s wonderful to hear. Remarkable. You’ll do very well then. After your trial—”
“May I ask something regarding the trial?” she cuts in. When he nods, she continues, “What can I expect? What does it entail?”
His head tilts in what appears to be regret, hand scratching at his beard. “Unfortunately, I’m not authorized to reveal any information about the trials. They are formatted to the individual, differentfor each person—a test of aptitude and strength. In all honesty, I was skeptical about how you’d fare, not knowing anything about your upbringing, but having met you, I think you’ll persevere through whatever they throw at you. So, once you’ve passed, I’ll introduce you to your team, most of whom are your relatives as well.”
“As far as my team goes, Wells and his crew will be my most trusted consultants.”
Fuck, I love how bold she is.Her mind is made up, and she’s not taking any chances.
He glances at me, no doubt wondering how we’ll maneuver those positions once we both have a seat—the least of my concerns. “Very well. Would you like to see some pictures of your family?”
She fiddles with her nails, her thumb picking at the ones not clasped in mine, clearly anxious about him referring to people she doesn’t know as family. But my brave girl smiles and sips her lemonade. “I’d love to.”
He rises, rounding the table and seizing the chair beside her. Liam, Ty, and Gage scrutinize his every move like hawks prepared to pounce.
Setting his phone down in front of her, O’Reilly flips through pictures. “This is my wife, Deidre. We’ve been married for eleven years. And this is her son, Declan, who’s twenty. By pure happenstance, we’re one of those odd families with names that begin with the same letter. My name is Daniel, if you didn’t know, which you can call me.”
“Of course I knew. Thank you, Daniel. You have a beautiful family.” Always the picture of grace and elegance.
Natasha deserves a pat for her daughter’s manners. She raised Ivy to have impeccable social decorum.
A sadness passes through O’Reilly as she mentions his family, and I realize I’ve been so focused on keeping her safe and preparing her for the trial and the seat that I underestimated the emotional toll this meeting would take on them both. No matter how this ends, their beginning is rooted in brokenness.
He flips to the next picture. “This is your Aunt Maureen. She’s my half-sister, not from the O’Reilly bloodline, and a bit of a prima donna.” He chuckles, a bellow far more buoyant than before. “But family is family. This is her husband, Kent, and their three adorable rug rats. And these are my cousins—yours too. I won’t name them all now. This is Robert, my right-hand man.” He gestures to his guard, who steps forward and exchanges a charming handshake and greeting with Ivy before Daniel continues, “It’s a big family. Most everyone works for the organization in some capacity, so you’ll get to know them all well in time.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Ivy chirps, too syrupy to be entirely genuine.
That’s my cue.
I slide my arm across her shoulders, glancing at my watch. “Our time is dwindling, I’m afraid.”
“Of course,” he says, notably disappointed. His blue eyes lock on to Ivy’s. “Let’s at least share a meal first. Time for me to get to know you, your husband, and your trusted friends. I insist.”
Ivy agrees, so we have dinner catered to the suite. Once the guys all join the conversation, she relaxes considerably, but my gut still stirs with apprehension about all that’s awaiting her.
We pop open a bottle of champagne on the flight home, toasting to a meeting gone well. She seems lighter and more at ease, excited even. As she hauls me into the plane’s bedroom for another claiming, I bury my reservations and simply treasure this fusion with my gorgeous wife.
“Hey,” she whispers, tugging me into a hug while I button my shirt, preparing for our arrival. “I’m good. Ready.”
