Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
REBEKKA
I couldn’t help it. Those lyrics. They felt like they were written for me.
For us. Hooking my finger around his was instinctive.
It’s so wrong, but it feels so right. Our pinkies remain entwined until the show is over, and it’s the most comfort I’ve felt since I moved to this country, which is tragic and worrying.
How long can I go on in this loveless marriage?
How long can I go on pining for a man I can never have?
But what other choice do I have?
Lose everything I ever worked for?
The applause is thunderous. The entire theatre rises to its feet, but I barely notice with the thunder ricocheting through my blood with a deep, dark, debauched desire for something—someone–I shouldn’t want. But how I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.
The last encore drifts into silence. My body feels broken by the echo of lyrics I’ll never hear the same way again.
All of a sudden, the lights flare back up.
I snatch my hand away a fraction too quickly, my pulse skittering like I’ve been caught committing a crime.
In a way, I have. Not by Anthony—but by myself.
By the woman I thought I was. The woman who is supposed to be better than this type of bold behaviour.
Rian downs the last of his champagne in one long swallow as the Beckett women gush over the performance. I sneak a peek at his face from my peripherals. His expression is utterly unreadable.
Maybe he didn’t feel it the way I did?
Maybe it was nothing more than a drunken slip of restraint?
No. He turns like he can feel the weight of my stare. His eyes catch mine, dark and unflinching, and I’m left in no doubt.
He felt it every bit as acutely as I did.
He always does.
‘Come on,’ Ivy links her arm through mine, tugging me out of my thoughts as the Beckett clan gather their things. ‘That was incredible. Wasn’t it?’ Her eyes sparkle, cheeks flushed with champagne and music.
‘Incredible,’ I echo, my voice hoarse for reasons that have nothing to do with singing along.
The group spills into the corridor, past the velvet ropes and private staircases towards where the Beckett’s security staff congregate.
They usher us out the door and past the crowds.
Cameras flash as fans scream Hozier’s name from outside, but I feel invisible, untethered. Like no one sees me. No one except him.
I lag behind, not even aware of whether it’s deliberate or not.
Rian falls into step beside me. His hand brushes mine again, casual to anyone watching, but I know better.
My body knows better. He misses the contact, the same way I do.
Heat sparks across my skin, urging me to close the distance, to give in to the reckless pull that’s been threatening to undo me since the night we met.
We round a corner. The others are way ahead now, but Ivy and Avery’s excited voices carry beneath the moonlight. The street narrows, and Rian stops abruptly like he’s going to say something.
I still beside him, barely daring to breathe.
The air is thick and electric.
He turns to face me, towering over me. ‘Rebekka…’ His voice is low, rough, weighted with desire. My name has never sounded so sexual. Like want and need and a raw desperation dripping with both unspeakable pain and the promise of unequivocal pleasure.
I tilt my face up to his, breath caught in my throat. His exhale is my inhale. His gaze drops to my mouth. Mine to his. Slowly, inevitably, we lean closer.
One breath. Two heartbeats. Three seconds from disaster.
And then his phone explodes in his pocket, vibrating through the silence. He curses under his breath, stumbling back. I don’t have to ask who it is.
I know.
Anthony.
Guilt and anger is etched into every line of Rian’s face.
The spell shatters.
Thank God, because I almost did something unforgivable.
I swallow the ache, plaster on a brittle smile, and keep walking, catching up to the Beckett entourage in their stunning selection of designer dresses and tailored suits. Scarlett is practically buzzing. Her silver eyes are alight with mischief, like she’s gearing up for round two.
‘One drink,’ she pleads, grabbing James’s arm. ‘There’s a new club in Temple Bar. I heard the DJ is unreal. Text your guy to get us a table.’
‘Yes!’ Avery claps her hands, golden hair shimmering under the dim streetlights. ‘Please, Killian?’ She squeezes his arm. ‘It’s so rare we all get out together.’
He presses a kiss to her temple. ‘Whatever you want, princess.’
‘I did have other plans for Ivy,’ Caelon grumbles, ‘but I suppose they can wait an hour.’
Ivy laughs, her cheeks are still flushed from the champagne. ‘You could just get me off in the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘Too much information,’ Zara screeches, making a show of putting her fingers in her ears.
‘Oh, wait until you get a boyfriend,’ Scarlett teases. ‘Then we’ll see what’s too much information.’
‘Who says I don’t already have one?’ Zara sings with a smug smile.
‘What?’ James, Caelon, Killian and Sean almost snap their heads from their necks as they turn to their sister.
‘Just joking.’ Zara loops her arm through Layla’s with the kind of easy affection only she can pull off.
God help the man who wants to date that girl.
She turns to me then. ‘You coming for a drink, Beks? It’s turning into a full family outing.’ All expectant faces turn toward me, bright and persuasive, their collective energy impossible to resist. Almost.
I force a joviality to my tone that I don’t feel. ‘I’m not family.’
But how I fucking wish I was.
I shake my head, forcing a smile. ‘You all go. I’m still recovering from last night.’
Scarlett clicks her fingers. ‘You need the hair of the dog.’
‘I can’t stomach it.’ I counter gently. I’m not referring to the drink. I’m referring to being surrounded by all these couples so sickeningly in love that I have to question every single one of my life choices since my father told me I was to marry Anthony De Courcy.
And I can’t stomach being in such close proximity with the man I crave like a goddamn fucking drug.
The man whose t-shirt I stole and tucked beneath my pillow for later.
The man who haunts my dreams.
I feel him before I see him. Rian’s presence cuts through the chatter like a blade. He catches up with us, his expression grim. His dark gaze drinks me in like he hasn’t seen me for weeks instead of minutes.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask quietly.
‘Anthony wanted me to swing by your place and check you’re okay.’
Translation: Anthony wanted me to swing by your place and check if I’ve got another man there because I gave Patrick the night off, switched off all the security cameras, and didn’t answer any of his messages or calls. Fuck him.
My husband thinks it’s okay for him to stick his dick anywhere he likes, but God forbid I get any notions. I’m under no illusion. Anthony De Courcy is a possessive man. He doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have me. He’d take it as a personal affront.
Rian’s thunderous expression assures me that the translation wasn’t lost on him.
‘We were just trying to convince Rebekka to come for a drink,’ Zara eyes Rian and they exchange an entire conversation with their eyes. It’s times like this I wish I had a sibling. Like Anthony, I’m an only child. But where he’s a spoilt brat, I picked up my family’s slack.
‘Another time,’ I promise. ‘I’m wrecked.’
‘I’ll take you home,’ Rian says, his voice brooking no argument.
‘Thomson or Walsh will drive her,’ Killian offers.
‘My driver will take her,’ Rian tips his head towards one of the security guys flanking us.
‘I’ll go with them.’ The protective edge in his tone is enough to silence the entire group.
Caelon stares at us for a long beat, while Ivy snuggles in tighter under his arm.
Killian raises an eyebrow. Sean exchanges a surprised glance with James, but no one challenges Rian.
Not even me.
I don’t know if it’s the best idea in the world—or the absolute worst. After what almost happened, after the way the music seemed to tether our souls tighter with every lyric, the thought of being alone with him again terrifies me.
Not because I don’t trust him. But because yet again, I don’t trust myself.
He offers his arm out to link mine, then softly whispers into my ear, ‘Let’s get you home.’
The words lodge somewhere between my ribs. My pulse skips.
Home.
I wish I had one.
Truth is, I’ve never felt at home in the penthouse. In this city. In this country.
Except for when I’m with him.