Chapter 23 Rian
Chapter Twenty-Three
RIAN
‘Why did the women travel separately?’ I ask Caelon, as we sit on the dark leather couch in front of the roaring fire built into the exposed brick wall.
The scent of burning wood floats through the air.
Huge white snow clouds slowly drift past the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the white tipped mountains. I forgot how peaceful this place is.
Killian, James, Caelon and I made a beeline for the drinks cabinet before settling ourselves in front of the fire.
Snow is forecast for the next two days, so we’re more than likely going to be stuck here, but right now, that seems like a gift rather than a problem.
My brothers are my safe place, whether I like to admit it or not.
And I’m not safe being alone right now because the urge to do something stupid, like steal Rebekka from her penthouse, is getting stronger by the day.
‘They said something about picking something up on the way.’ James shrugs. ‘Could be anything, but knowing my wife, it’s expensive,’ he laughs, shaking his head. ‘The kids are travelling with nanny and grandad. That’s the stuff for them; they were asking for grandkids for long enough.’
‘When are Sean and Layla getting here?’ I cross my ankle over my knee and relax back against the leather. They always travel separately. Due to Layla’s high profile, she has extra security at all times.
‘Who knows, but Zara is travelling with them.’ Caelon kicks his feet up onto the huge mahogany coffee table in front of us.
‘No surprises there,’ Killian mutters dryly. ‘I thought my woman was obsessed with the Royals, but Avery has nothing on Zara.’
‘Wait until Zara finds herself a fella.’ I wink, unable to stop myself from stirring the shit. ‘That’ll put paid to that.’
‘Don’t even joke about that,’ Killian growls and I snigger.
‘She’s a woman now; it’s only a matter of time.’ I poke the angry bears. All three of my brothers are scowling.
‘Can we talk about something else?’ James spits.
‘Yeah, let’s talk about you spending Christmas Day evening with your best friend’s wife,’ Caelon suggests, wiggling eyebrows.
Fuck.
I crick my neck, feeling the heat creeping into my cheeks again. This blushing thing is becoming a pain in my fucking ass. ‘I had a present for her, that was all. Given her husband left her all alone, and she’s thousands of miles away from her own family, I thought she might like a friend.’
‘A friend, huh?’ James sits forward in his seat. ‘How considerate of you.’ His sarcasm isn’t lost on me.
‘So, what exactly was this present?’ Caelon quips, with a wicked gleam in his eye.
I’m saved from answering by the purr of a Bentley pulling up outside. ‘Oh, look, your women are here!’
Thomson, Avery’s driver, hops out first. He opens the back door, and Ivy, Avery, and Scarlett fall out.
Avery is clutching a bottle of uncorked champagne, and I bet my life it’s empty—and not the only one they’ve consumed either.
The sound of their giggles is audible even through the triple glazed window.
Thomson shakes his head at us through the glass and mouths ‘sorry’ to Killian.
‘What on earth are they doing?’ James stands and strides towards the window where the girls seem to be coaxing something out the back of the car.
If Ivy brought that slobbery dog Roxie, she better be prepared to walk her, because I, for one, do not feel like freezing my balls off in the snow.
Plus, every time the damn dog shakes its drooly jowls, we all look like we’ve got jizz on our trousers.
But no, it’s not Roxie the boxer who emerges from the back of the Bentley.
It’s Rebekka.
And she looks utterly fucking edible in a white fluffy coat, and leather leggings that sculpt her shapely thighs in a way that should be illegal. Avery reaches out to steady her as she wobbles in her high-heeled ankle boots. The two women clutch each other, laughter pouring from their lips.
She looks up, then she senses she’s being watched. Her eyes catch mine. It’s a miracle the window doesn’t shatter with the sheer charges of chemistry shooting between us.
The world stops.
My brothers’ words fade into the background.
My blood turns to molten lava in my veins, and all I can hear is the pounding of my own pulse.
‘Earth to Rian,’ James snaps his fingers in front of my face. ‘I said, do you happen to have another present for Rebekka tucked away somewhere?’
‘Maybe in your pants?’ Caelon snorts.
‘She’s married.’ I remind them, turning my back to the window as Thomson escorts the women towards the front door.
‘So is Anthony, but that doesn’t stop him,’ Caelon tuts. ‘Remember my stag night?’
‘I do indeed.’ He fucked off for a “private dance” at my club. And I know for a fact he fucked the dancer, because she came to me after and warned me he was a little rough with her. I compensated her heavily, and ordered all the security staff to ensure he doesn’t get near one of our dancers again.
‘I don’t know why Rebekka puts up with him,’ Caelon continues. ‘Ivy would have my balls if I so much as looked at another woman.’
‘It’s not that simple.’ I glance towards the door, straining my ears for the sound of the front door opening.
‘You like her,’ Killian observes quietly from the couch.
Understatement of the century, but I’m not about to correct him.
‘It’s irrelevant.’ I sigh, then knock back the whiskey in my glass. It burns my throat in the best way.
‘Oh fuck.’ Caelon stares at me for a long beat. ‘He loves her.’
That goddamn fucking heat is flaming my cheeks again. I don’t even recognise this version of myself anymore.
I could deny it, but what’s the fucking point? My brothers are my best friends. We take the piss out of each other day in and day out, but I know without a shadow of a doubt, they would kill for me or die for me.
‘That’s irrelevant too,’ I say quietly. For once, my ability to crack a joke fails me.
‘Fuck,’ Caelon repeats.
‘Does she feel the same?’ James spins to face me.
‘I don’t know. There’s something between us.’ I stalk across to the drinks cabinet in search of another whiskey.
‘No fucking shit, Sherlock,’ Killian says darkly.
‘What are you going to do about it?’ Caelon asks, appearing beside me, holding out his own glass for a refill.
‘What can I do about it? She’s married. To my friend. Who I consider less and less my friend every time he hurts her.’ I slosh a generous measure into Caelon’s glass, then my own before gesturing for James and Killian to bring theirs over. I’m not a fucking waiter.
‘Marriage is sacred—but cruelty voids its sanctity,’ James says, suddenly serious. ‘Do whatever you have to do, brother.’ He claps my back supportively. ‘We’ll stand by you.’
‘It won’t come to that.’
‘Going on the way she was looking at you through the window with those big doe eyes, I have a feeling it might,’ Killian’s voice is grim.
The front door bangs open, and the quiet is shattered by high-pitched laughter and high heels clattering on the original wood flooring.
‘Yoohoo,’ Ivy’s voice echoes off the wood-panelled walls. ‘You boys better have saved me some of that whiskey! There’s only so much sparkling piss water a woman can drink!’
‘Sounds like she managed to drink a good drop of it, anyway.’ Caelon chortles, then lifts his chin to shout towards the open door. ‘Of course, honey! In here!’
‘Happy wife, happy life, right boys?’ He sniggers in a low tone.
Anthony clearly didn’t get that memo.
But given half the chance, I have no problem putting a smile on his wife’s face.
Again.