“Her fucking guard might.”
I shake my head. “They won’t. I’ve already scoped them. Suffice it to say, my sources say Aitkens fired his entire guard and hired Russians. They’re brand new. Won’t know who I am.”
Not to mention the fact that we’re reclusive, rarely sighted by anyone outside of our inner circle.
“You’re fucking inked from the top of your head to yer nuts,” William says, and the men laugh.
He’s exaggerating. “What have you seen of my nuts, ya wanker? Easily covered. Plus, I’ve been watching her. I know that she’s able to get away from her bodyguards if necessary.” I wink. “And I’ll make it necessary.”
“Wow, are you an arsehole,” Clyde says with pride. I grin at him.
“Why thank you. She’ll know who I am eventually. I only need to keep my identity secret to begin with. But by then… well, by then it will already be too late.”
I tell them my plan.
Chapter 2
Bryn
I look up from the computer and stretch. I yawn and glance at the time. Bloody hell, it’s damn near two o’clock. I worked straight through lunch. My stomach growls as if trying to remind me to pay some attention to it.
I look at my phone. And realize I've missed ten texts. I frown, swiping to see who texted me.
Jesus.
Alec.
Alec: Bryn, for the love of God, will you bloody well answer me?
I blink in surprise. Alec and I broke up over a year ago, and I can't believe he’s still going on about things. What on Earth does he want?
I scroll up to read the rest of his messages.
Alec: Things aren’t the same without you.
Alec: I miss you.
Alec: Our favorite song just came on the radio and it made me all tearful. Please, sweetheart, come back.
I cringe and make a disgusted noise out loud. We didn’t have a bloody favorite song, and any man who lets a fucking song make him all tearful should be castrated. Nasty.
I was raised by Banner Aitkens. My brothers, father, uncles, and cousins are the alpha males of the Scottish mafia. And though I hate almost every damn one of them, I've come to appreciate an alpha male. Can’t really help it when it’s all you know. They don't cower when the going gets tough. They don't whimper when things are hard to do. I can't abide anyone less than a real man, and never have.
I delete the texts and block Alec from my bloody phone so he doesn’t harass me again.
There’s another text, this one from Ines, and it makes me smile.
Ines: Wait until you see what I found today! The most adorable little pair of strappy heels I’ve ever seen.
I smile and text back.
Bryn: Did you buy them??
Ines: Um, OF COURSE I DID. And got a second pair for my bestie, too. xxx
I grin.
Bryn: Can’t wait to see them.
I slide my mobile into my bag and head to the door. I need something to eat so I can finish my work, and I’m not leaving here until I’m done. I give a parting smile to the little shop I’ve purchased with my own hard-earned money, not a penny given to me by my father. Not that he’d approve of a boutique like mine anyway.
A light breeze stirs around me, dry leaves on the pavement circling my ankles, as I walk toward The Lucky Leaf, the local salad bar. My heels click on the pavement, and I blink at the bright sun. It’s a gorgeous day, but I haven’t noticed since I’ve been stuck inside. I’m just on the verge of finishing the biggest commission of my life. This could be it, the big break for me.
Just as I reach the front door, a large, seriously hot bloke grabs the handle and opens it for me. I pause in surprise, honestly a bit dazzled.
One might say I’ve lived a sheltered life. I’ve never run into a bloke like this.
He’s tall and handsome, with blue eyes as vivid as the summer sky. The boyish look of his tousled hair is set off with a scruffy beard and powerful shoulders, massive arms, and… Jesus, fucking everything.
“After you,” he says warmly, and I won’t lie, the way his arm muscles ripple when he opens the door makes my heart flutter a bit faster. His voice is deep and velvety, and does unexpected things to my belly. I swallow hard, reminding myself to keep it together.
“Thank you.”
Wow, is he gorgeous. I wonder if he’s a boxer or something, he’s got that kind of build. Large and muscled, his forearms are thick and corded, revealing ink that peaks out from his shirtsleeves, thick and black around his neck as well. He wears a scruffy beard that gives him just that edge of dominance that makes my heart beat a little faster.
“Very kind of you,” I say, giving him a smile as he takes his place behind me in the line. “It’s a rare treat when someone remembers to hold the door for you. It seems sometimes chivalry’s gone the way of the Knights of the Round Table.”