Chapter 4
Chapter Four
RIAN
Elixir is mine. Another jewel in the Beckett crown. I managed to convince my brother, Sean, to tear himself from his new fiancée to come and celebrate with me.
‘You can’t walk into a bar without needing to buy it,’ he teases as we step through the glass doors. It’s packed already.
‘I’ve had my eye on this one for years,’ I call over the music. Just like I’ve had my eye on Rebekka.
I finally closed the deal yesterday—on the bar, not Rebekka—unfortunately. Though I’d give up every bar I own to close that deal.
Stop, Rian. For fuck’s sake.
Not helpful.
I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since the awards. I even rang Anthony twice since, hoping he’ll let slip some sort of minor detail about where she is, more importantly how she is. But the daft bollocks is in Paris with his latest PA. Such a cliché.
I am a lot of things—none of them particularly redeemable, but one thing I’m not is unfaithful. Never have been. Never will be. It’s just not how we were raised.
‘You’re like a dog with a bone.’ Sean twists his head towards me and smirks. ‘You have to have every pretty thing you see, don’t you?’
‘Says the man who shacked up with a princess,’ I shoot back as we make our way towards the main bar. There are a couple of vacant high-backed stools free. ‘How’s domestic bliss with Her Royal Highness?’
His face splits open in a full-blown grin. Turns out the quietest of my brothers isn’t gay, he just has exceptional taste. Domestic life suits him more than any of us could have imagined.
‘Has the press attention died down yet?’
His grin fades to a grimace. ‘Not yet. We’ve doubled security at Blackstone. The response to her stepping down has been challenging. Avery invited her out tonight for drinks, but she prefers to keep a low profile for another few weeks.’
‘But the press are eating up your romance like a fucking fairytale.’ I reach the bar, leaning an elbow on it as I scan the selection of whiskey on the mirrored wall.
He arches his eyebrows. ‘We both know our family has been associated with far too many scandals for me to pass as Prince Charming. And that’s just the ones they know about.’
He’s not wrong. We’ve had our share of trouble along the way. A vicious rivalry with another affluent family. The suspicious death of Caelon’s first wife, Isabella. James’s sex scandal. I’m just grateful I haven’t starred in any of my own.
Yet—a little voice warns me inside. Obsessing over my best friend’s wife is pretty scandalous. Even if I have no intention of acting on it.
‘At least no one can say we’re boring.’ I shrug. ‘Now… what’s the princess like in bed?’ I waggle my eyebrows and nudge his ribs with my elbow. Someone has to lighten the mood while we wait to get served.
His eyes widen. Jaw locks tight. A vein pumps furiously at his temple. ‘You did not just ask what I think you did, did you?’
Laughter rumbles in the back of my throat. He’s so easy to wind up. Tormenting my brothers about their wives is one of my favourite pastimes. Probably because I don’t have one of my own. ‘Is she a goer? Or does she lie back and think of England?’
His fist clenches at his side as his entire face turns three shades darker. ‘Do you have a fucking death wish, you—’
Before he can finish, a high-pitched female voice screeches through the air, loud enough to be heard over the music. ‘Baby Beckett.’
Oh fuck.
Sean and I turn, my teasing momentarily forgotten. That’s when I spot them.
Fuck.
My three sisters-in-law are tucked into a booth beside the bar. Scarlett’s silver eyes are bright as they dart around her friends. Avery’s tossing her blonde hair around like she’s still on a catwalk. Ivy’s blue eyes are dancing as she raises her glass up to us.
And then there’s Rebekka.
The sight of her knocks the air straight out of my chest like I’ve been thumped.
She’s a fucking vision, leaning back, cheeks rosy, laughing at something Scarlett’s just said.
Her hair is loose now, unlike that formal style she wore at the awards.
My fingers burn to touch it. Touch her. For a second I can’t fucking breathe.
Our eyes connect through the crowd. Surprise flashes through hers. Then heat. Then guilt. She looks away.
‘Baby Beckett!’ Avery hollers again, waving like she hasn’t seen me in years instead of days. Heads turn. I grit my teeth. That nickname sounds a million times worse because the older, sophisticated woman I’m obsessed with is sitting right next to the attention seeking blonde bombshell slurring it.
Sean follows my line of sight and groans. ‘Oh fuck.’
Empty martini glasses litter the table like casualties of war. ‘They’re drunk.’ I shake my head, striding over before one of them topples out of the booth.
‘Drunk?’ He tuts, right on my heels. ‘They’re fucking shit-faced.’
‘Fuck my life,’ I mutter, running a hand over my jaw.
‘You’re just in time,’ Scarlett slurs, pointing a manicured finger at me. ‘Your sister-in-law was about to order another round.’
‘Because you didn’t quite drink enough?’ I arch a brow.
‘Who are you? My husband?’ Scarlett hiccups. ‘Haven’t you got a date tonight?’
Rebekka flinches like she’s been stung. I frown, unable to process before Ivy pipes up again.
‘Don’t look at us like that,’ Ivy giggles. ‘You’re not the boss of us.’
‘Technically…’ I lean on the table, lowering my voice, ‘I am the boss of this place.’
Four pairs of eyes widen. Rebekka’s are hazy, unfocused.
‘You bought Elixir?’ Scarlett blurts.
I shrug. ‘Signed the paperwork yesterday.’ My hands vibrate with the need to touch Rebekka. I shove them in my trouser pockets instead.
Avery whistles. ‘Way to go. I’m impressed.’
‘Baby Beckett’s a big boy now,’ Scarlett teases.
I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t make me prove it.’
‘Go on, I dare you. Give us a flash. Let’s see if it’s as big as your brother’s.’ Ivy cackles as she pretends to reach for my belt.
Rebekka’s laughter bubbles out, soft and slurred, and something tightens in my chest.
Three of Killian’s security staff choose this second to approach the table. They must have been making a loop of the bar. I address the one I recognise. ‘Thomson. You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on them.’
‘Good luck with that,’ one of the other guards mutters. ‘They’re wild.’
‘We are keeping an eye on them,’ Thomson assures me. ‘Walsh is bringing the car round now.’
‘What?’ Avery wails. ‘It’s not even midnight yet!’
‘Got to get your beauty sleep, Avery,’ I try to appeal to the former model in her.
‘What exactly are you suggesting, Baby Beckett?’ Her eyes narrow in my direction.
I raise my hands in the air. ‘Nothing. You know I think you’re stunning. I’m just saying you might want to go home and get some sleep so you’re not too tired for tomorrow.’
‘What’s tomorrow?’ Scarlett squints up at me through thick, elongated eyelashes.
‘The Olympia,’ I tell her. ‘Hozier. We’ve hired the VIP box.’
Avery squeals.
Ivy claps.
Scarlett groans, ‘I need to sweet talk my mother-in-law to babysit for me.’
‘Not if I get there first.’ Ivy grins. The Beckett women gather their purses, clutches, various designer coats and wobble up to a standing position.
‘I feel a cousins sleepover at nanny’s house coming on,’ Scarlett staggers slightly and Sean reaches out to steady her. ‘Come on, ladies, let’s get you out to Walsh.’
They turn to Rebekka, who remains seated. ‘You will come to see Hozier tomorrow, won’t you?’ Avery demands. ‘It’s going to be epic.’
And across the table, Rebekka’s green eyes flick to mine. Just for a heartbeat. ‘I… I’ll ask Anthony.’
‘I thought you said he was in Paris?’ Scarlett steadies herself by leaning a hand on the table as she wraps a cashmere scarf around her neck.
‘He is,’ she admits quietly. We exchange a look that assures me she knows what I know—that he’s away with another woman. Fuck. My heart breaks for her. She deserves so much more. She deserves everything. If she were mine, I’d give it to her. She wouldn’t even have to ask.
‘Then it’s sorted.’ Scarlett nods firmly. ‘We’ll send a car for you.’
Rebekka looks at me, our eyes colliding again. Hot, forbidden energy fires like ions between us. ‘How are you getting home tonight?’ The words are out of my mouth before I can help myself.
Rebekka looks towards the door. ‘Patrick, my driver is here somewhere.’ She sighs, and suddenly she looks pale—really fucking pale. ‘I feel a bit sick,’ she admits. ‘Anthony won’t be happy if I vomit in the car.’
I don’t even hesitate. ‘Send Patrick home. I’ll drive you instead.
’ I mutter, offering a hand to help her up.
Sean looks relieved to be escaping back to Layla as he follows the others towards the exit.
I slide an arm around Rebekka’s waist to steady her as she sways.
Her sultry spiced perfume wafts around me, and I inhale it deep into my lungs.
‘Come on, sweetheart,’ I whisper against her hair. ‘Let’s get you home.’
Her head lolls against my shoulder for a second before she straightens, blinking up at me. ‘Don’t call me that.’
But she doesn’t pull away.
And God help me, I don’t want her to.