13. Brady
Brady
Her reaction is delicious. I stride back to my room, delighted with what I’ve learned this evening. My suspicions proved correct about my wife’s certain proclivities. Best of all, I’ve discovered what turns her on. Her lust for violence.
Throwing a bottle at me like that, a pleasant surprise. I recognize it as an important feature of the puzzle box that is my wife. My goal is to open it, of course, but I also need her to understand who I am in return.
I’m no puzzle. There is no hidden depth to me. I keep the unlovable monstrosity of who I am on the surface. It’s one of my greatest strengths, and I needed her to witness it firsthand.
But she’s only seen her first glimpse.
* * *
I make sure I’m up early the next morning.
Cora and I are both scheduled to work at the pub today, along with Liam and Finn.
It’s unprecedented. We have a multibillion-dollar company to run, but instead we’re stuck tending bar.
It’s some scheme of Mam’s, which means it’s got Da’s power behind it.
My brothers and I know better than to argue.
Cora, though. As far as I know she’s agreed to the schedule. But as of last night, there’s a chance she’s so pissed at me that she’ll disobey. And we can’t have that.
With my laptop and coffee at the breakfast table, I have a prime view of both the elevator and the emergency stairs. She can’t try to sneak out without me seeing.
To my surprise, when my wife comes out of her bedroom, she’s dressed for working at a restaurant.
In her black pants and white blouse, she looks like a caterer.
A sexy caterer, but still. It’s like she chose the most boring outfit she could find, just to blend in with all the other most boring outfits in this city.
Without acknowledging me, she goes to the kitchen to help herself to the coffee I made. Her confident stride is masculine, her chocolate ponytail businesslike. It’s so low on the nape of her neck that I want to wrap it around my hand. Use it to pull her close.
Keeping her back turned, she searches the cabinets and finds my copper travel mug.
It’s on a top shelf, and her ass looks incredible as she stretches up to get it.
She helps herself to the rest of the coffee that I brewed, pouring the mug full.
I don’t mind. It’s not until she heads straight for the elevator that I stop her.
“Car won’t be here until ten-thirty.” I can’t have her pressing the call button just yet. But she’s about to reach for it, which gives me only seconds to pull out my phone.
I froze the call signal when I woke up and haven’t yet unfrozen it.
Too distracted by her perfect ass. It’s a handy feature, being able to override any elevator in the building.
Part of the emergency protocol I set up when I first bought this high-rise.
In case my home ever comes under siege. And for the absolute worst-case scenario, I’ve installed a secret weapons room on every floor.
But Cora doesn’t need to know that. Just like she doesn’t need to know about my ability to control the elevators.
This particular elevator only services three floors.
Liam has the true penthouse on the top level.
We’re one floor down, and Finn’s one floor below us, each with our own full-level apartment.
I outfitted them with glass walls, Carrara floors, and premium black steel finishes, penthouses in their own right.
Liam spends all his time in the annex behind Mam and Da’s house, unaffected by my elevator overrides.
But Finn will probably text me soon to complain, assuming he’s gotten up in time to make it to our unconventional shift.
“I’ll wait outside,” Cora says, her finger an inch from the button.
I tap the code to unfreeze the elevator. When she presses the button, it lights up and stays lit. Just in time. Although she probably wouldn’t guess my ability to override anything, she’s clever enough that she’d suspect something was up. And I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest.
Especially with this woman.
“You’ll wait with me,” I tell her.
It’s a command, whether or not she realizes it. She will soon enough. For now, I slip my phone in my pocket, and I’m with her in the elevator before she can protest.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask conversationally.
“Do you regret anything about what you did yesterday?” She turns to face me as the doors close.
Should’ve figured she wouldn’t be over that yet.
She has the same fire in her eyes as she did in the alleyway, right before she threw a bottle at me.
I keep my awareness on the metal container of piping hot coffee in her hand.
“No,” I say. “I don’t regret showing you who I am.”
The elevator stops too early. I curse under my breath as the doors slide open onto Finn’s floor. Cora’s anger toward me may as well be a bright red arrow, obvious enough for even Finn to notice. He raises his eyebrows at us, obnoxiously enjoying the scene.
He takes it too far when he tries to wedge himself in between me and Cora.
I step closer to my wife, forcing Finn to stand on my other side.
Cora doesn’t react well. She throws back an elbow to keep me at bay, and she’s lucky that my reflexes are sharp.
I catch her attempted blow, digging my fingers in hard to remind her who she’s dealing with.
As she yanks her arm free from my grip, Finn smirks at me. Cocky little shit.
My wife’s feistiness, entertaining as it is, is getting out of hand. I can’t have her disrespecting me like this. Especially not in front of my family. Apparently punching her weakling date wasn’t enough, because she still doesn’t understand who I am.
This shift at the pub will be quite the trial for her.