Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
RIAN
Rebekka’s smile hits me square in the chest. It always has. I think it always will.
But I long to be the person to put it there.
Long to be the reason warmth flickers in her eyes, the reason she laughs.
Long to be her reason for doing anything.
Which is why I’m standing in front of her, with my gaze fixed on her like there’s a magnetic field running from her skin to mine.
I promised myself I’d stay away from her tonight, but the second I saw her in that dress—silk skimming every curve, slit flashing the length of her thigh—that vow went out the window, along with my common sense.
She looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, until Avery and Ivy swarmed her with hugs and champagne. Thankfully, the tension seems to have melted from her shoulders.
‘How have you been since…’ I trail off.
What am I meant to say?
Since we last spoke?
Since I admitted how obsessed with you I am?
Since I put my lips on yours and stole the best damn kiss of my entire existence?
All of the above lingers in the air, the unspoken elephant between us.
She swallows hard, drawing my eyes to her long, elegant neck. ‘Fine,’ she says a little too brightly.
‘Really?’ I inch closer, unable to help myself. It’s too close to be appropriate, but it’s nowhere near as close as I need to be to satiate the hunger eating me up from the inside out.
I force my gaze away from her, across the ballroom—my parents’ ballroom.
This is my world.
My family’s world.
A place I’ve attended more parties than I can count—yet standing here now, none of it feels familiar.
Not with her standing a breath away, turning everything I thought I knew—everything I thought I was—into something—someone—unrecognisable.
If my parents had any idea I’m obsessed with a married woman, they’d be horrified.
We were brought up to value the concept of marriage, treasure it, and respect it.
But clearly, Anthony doesn’t, so why should I?
‘Fine?’ I echo, raising a brow.
She shrugs, the movement sending the silk rippling around her frame. ‘Everyone’s fine at a party.’
I huff a quiet laugh. ‘Trust me, I’m an expert on parties. And you don’t look fine, Beks.’
Her eyes flick up, luminous and wary under the chandelier’s glow. For a heartbeat, the noise of the room fades. It’s just her and me, and her sensual fucking vanilla perfume stealing my senses.
Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. ‘I’m just not great at this kind of thing,’ she says softly.
‘Which thing? Parties? Or pretending?’ I start to reach for a loose tendril at her temple, then think better of it, fingers curling into my palm. ‘Rebekka—’
‘Rian!’ The voice lands like a freezing cold splash of water to the face.
Anthony bulldozes through the crowd with the smooth smile of a man who thinks the world owes him something.
Arrogant asshole. A grin lights his face.
It’s the same grin he used to flash at me across the classroom.
But tonight, it’s hard to reciprocate it.
Rebekka straightens, smoothing the silk at her hips, sliding her mask into place.
I step back a fraction, though every nerve in me screams to stay right where I am.
Anthony claps me on the shoulder warmly, completely ignoring his stunning wife in the process.
Does he genuinely not realise what he has?
Or does he realise deep down and know she’s way too good for him?
I’m not supposed to care. Not supposed to stick my nose in another person’s marriage.
‘Anthony, how are you?’ I slap his bicep, as guilt gnaws at my gut.
‘Thought you’d be on the dancefloor mauling that hot little brunette I saw pawing at you.’
Rebekka flinches beside me.
‘Keeping a low profile tonight,’ I manage, mouth dry.
‘I’d bet everything I own you’ll be bollocks deep in her before the night is over!’ His raucous laugh grates every nerve in my body. ‘And I wouldn’t fucking blame you.’ He shoots a salacious look at the brunette, who was indeed unashamedly groping me when I spotted Rebekka.
‘Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.’ I shake my head, and I swear Rebekka exhales a breath of relief.
‘Not in the mood?’ Anthony’s jaw almost hits the floor. ‘Who even are you? What have you done with the Rian I know?’ He still hasn’t so much as looked in Rebekka’s direction. Meanwhile, I can barely keep my eyes off her.
‘I met someone.’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Anthony’s pupils double in size. ‘Well, who is she? Don’t be coy now, Beckett. Not when we’ve known each other since we were in nappies.’
Rebekka takes a sip of her drink and pretends to scan the crowd, but I can see the hammering of her pulse at her slender neck.
‘It’s complicated. The only thing I can tell you, is that she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever met in my life, and even if it never comes to anything, I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life wishing things could have been different.’
‘Fuck. Me.’ Anthony takes a step back, scanning me from head to toe. ‘Have you been snorting coke again?’
I huff out a laugh. ‘I haven't snorted coke since you gave me a line in Marbella when we were eighteen and it took me three solid days to come down, and when I did I cried for another fucking three.’ Drugs don’t agree with me.
I have enough trouble dealing with the natural chemicals coursing through my blood without shoving more unpredictable shit up my nose.
Anthony reaches for the lapel of my suit jacket, pulling on it with his fingers roughly. ‘Trust me, man, I don’t care how pretty she is, or how good her pussy feels, don’t fucking tie yourself to one woman. It’ll never be enough for you.’
It’s my turn to take a step back. ‘It might not be enough for you, but I’m better than that. I know what she’s worth.’
He stares at me for a long beat. Rebekka is so pale she looks like she’s liable to pass out. Then, all of a sudden, he belts out a laugh loud enough to attract several stares. ‘You are the best man, Rian,’ he concedes. ‘You were mine, anyway.’ He shrugs.
‘That we can at least agree on, anyway,’ Rebekka murmurs quietly.
Anthony turns slowly to look at his wife for the first time, an incredulous expression on his face, but before he can say a word, Ivy and Avery barrel back towards us. How I fucking love my sisters-in-law. My brothers chose their women well.
Avery prises the empty glass of champagne from Rebekka’s hand and replaces it with a fresh one. Anthony watches with a frown, but the Beckett women are more than a match for him.
‘Hello Anthony,’ Avery flashes him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine, thank you.’ Anthony automatically glances around, probably scanning for my brother Killian. Killian is a jealous man, and Anthony has a reputation of being a manwhore of late—something my brother can’t stand—and definitely won’t stand—around his soon to be wife.
‘Only fine?’ Avery says in a sickly sweet tone. ‘If I had a wife like yours…’ She glances pointedly at Rebekka. ‘I’d be fucking ecstatic every minute of every fucking day.’
He harrumphs, his gaze darting between Avery and Rebekka suspiciously. Rebekka keeps her eyes trained on the parquet, lashes low, the picture of composure—but I know better. Tension lines her jaw. She swallows hard before lifting her glass.
I bite back the urge to drag her out of this ballroom, out of this whole bloody marriage, and keep her somewhere no one can touch her. Instead, I plaster on a grin and step closer—a silent promise in the small space between us. I’ve got you.
Anthony continues to stare at Avery and Rebekka suspiciously. Rebekka’s eyes remain focused elsewhere, whereas Avery’s dare him to challenge her.
‘Yes, well, no one knows what goes on behind closed doors,’ Anthony says finally, squirming under Avery and Ivy’s unwavering attention.
‘Or what doesn’t go on behind closed doors,’ Ivy says.
Rebekka coughs.
Fuck.
Does he really not touch her?
I’m torn between being elated and being devastated—for her, that is. She must be starved of affection and attention.
An uncomfortable silence falls around the group. ‘Would any of you lovely ladies like to dance?’ I extend an upturned palm.
‘I would, but if your brother catches you with your hands anywhere near me, he’s likely to burn the ballroom down,’ Avery says with a grin.
‘Same,’ Ivy concedes, looking lovingly at Caelon across the room. He meets her eye, and his expression softens. The love between them is sickeningly obvious.
‘Guess that just leaves Rebekka.’ Ivy plays devil’s advocate. ‘Unless you would prefer to dance with her, Anthony?’
He stiffens visibly beside me, then glances at his wife. ‘Be my guest.’ He finally says, motioning for me to take her to the dancefloor.
I’d take her to fucking heaven if he was amiable to that as well. The problem is, I’d never bring her back.
My eyes land on Rebekka again. She’s already finished the glass of champagne Avery handed to her mere moments before.
I stare at her for a long beat. Her eyes meet mine.
Apprehension duels with an unmistakable heat.
How her husband hasn’t noticed the chemistry between us is beyond me.
‘Only if you want, of course,’ I add as an afterthought.
Her focus falls on my upturned, awaiting palm. ‘I want to,’ she says slowly, then places her small hand in mine. The second our skin meets, that hot, crackling energy surges between us, up my arm and straight over my spine.
I lead her through the press of bodies towards the centre of the room. The air seems to thin with every step. The music, laughter and clink of crystal blurs into a low hum; the only sound I’m aware of is the thunderous hammering of my heart.
I’m playing with fire, and I don’t give a fuck if I get burnt.
Just as we reach the edge of the dancefloor, the quartet on the mezzanine stills.
A beat of silence hovers. I hold Rebekka’s eye as we both wait for the next song.
Then, the opening notes of something slow and sin-rich float down from the strings.
The tempo shifts from jaunty carols to a slow waltz, soft and unhurried.
Rebekka’s gaze widens like the universe itself has conspired to force us into each other’s arms. Maybe it has.
I, for one, am not complaining. Who knows when I’ll get to see her again, let alone get the chance to touch her.
Around us, couples pair off. Laughter settles into quiet smiles. I slide an arm around her waist.
Her breath catches.
Mine does too.
My hands glide over her dress, resting on the curve of her hip beneath.
For one suspended moment, it’s only us and the music—and the dangerous knowledge that if a single spark shows between us, it’ll burn down both our worlds.