Chapter 24 Rebekka
Chapter Twenty-Four
REBEKKA
I’m going to need a liver transplant if I plan on keeping up with the Beckett women.
Zara, Layla and Sean arrived immediately after us, followed shortly by Vivienne, Alexander, a hoard of Beckett babies, and four nannies, leaving little time to talk to Rian and the boys before chaos ensued.
I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse.
The girls grilled me in the car on the way over here.
After copious amounts of champagne, I finally caved and admitted Rian kissed me—though I didn’t specify where.
If I was worried about judgement, I shouldn’t have been.
The general consensus was, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.
I can’t say I agree, but I feel lighter for sharing.
I hadn’t realised how heavy the secret had been until I offloaded it.
Poor Thomson. He pretended not to hear, but I’m pretty sure he couldn’t have missed Ivy’s wail of excitement when she screamed, ‘You should get divorced and marry Rian, then you could be our sister too.’
If only.
Pretty sure I used up all my wishes on Christmas Day.
As forecast, the snow is falling thick and heavy outside the window. The kids are outside with the nannies, building snowmen and throwing snowballs. The adults congregate around the fire, sipping champagne or whiskey and picking at the enormous charcuterie board one of the chefs brought through.
‘We better put them down for a nap, or they’ll never make midnight,’ Ivy says to Caelon, resting her head affectionately on his shoulder as she gazes fondly out of the window.
The youngest Becketts are snuggled in snowsuits and bundled in blankets in their buggies, watching their siblings and cousins laugh and play.
‘They’re not the only ones.’ Scarlett yawns, slipping her arms around her husband’s waist. He pulls her tightly against his chest, and envy eats me from the inside out.
My eyes instinctively flick to Rian. He’s also watching his brother and sister-in-law with a slightly pained expression.
His gaze shifts to meet mine, and something unspoken passes in the air between us.
Rian’s mother, Vivienne, rises from the deep sunken leather couch.
‘I think it would be wise if we all go for a nap, or none of us will make midnight.’ She offers her hand to her husband, Alex, who’s sitting in the seat beside her.
I’m guessing he’s around seventy, and despite the deep scar on the side of his face, he’s an exceptionally handsome man.
It’s easy to see where the Beckett boys get their looks from.
‘Keep it down now, you two,’ Rian calls to his parents. ‘We don’t need any more siblings. Bad enough I have to share the inheritance with these fuckers!’
‘Language,’ Vivienne scolds, but there’s no missing the smile she’s biting back.
‘Gross.’ Zara covers her eyes.
‘Watch your mouth, son.’ Alexander pretends to smack Rian around the head as he passes by him, hand in hand with Vivienne. It’s clear to see they’re still utterly enamoured with each other after all these years. It blows my mind.
The Beckett couples excuse themselves one by one until it’s just Rian and me remaining. I might be imagining it, but there seemed to be a lot of curious eyes on us.
‘You know which room is yours?’ Ivy checks, poking her head back through the doorway.
‘I’ll show her.’ Rian leaps to his feet from his position by the fire.
‘I bet you will.’ Ivy grins. ‘I would say keep it in your pants, Baby Beckett, but Bekka here needs someone to put a smile on her face.’ She winks and darts after her husband.
‘Subtle, isn’t she?’ Rian smirks, slowly striding towards me. I stand from the armchair I’d claimed—it seemed safer than sitting next to him.
‘As a sledgehammer.’ I smile, unable to help myself. ‘I got grilled on the way over here.’
‘What did you tell them?’ He closes the distance between us, and his familiar, pheromone inducing cologne seeps into my nose and sets my skin on fire.
I tilt my head up to meet his gaze as he towers over me. ‘I told them you kissed me,’ I admit. ‘But I didn’t say where.’
‘I also got the Spanish Inquisition from my brothers.’ He reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Goosebumps ripple over my spine.
‘What did you tell them?’ My fingers tingle with the need to touch him, but I don’t. Christmas Day was supposed to be a one-time thing. I’m not embarking on an affair. Especially one that’s destined to lead to more pain after the pleasure.
‘Much the same.’ He pauses for a long beat. ‘Shall I show you to your room? Thomson will have put your bag up there already.’
‘Sure,’ I shrug, mentally willing myself the strength to let him out of it once he does.
I place my empty glass on the coffee table with the others and follow him out into the huge corridor. ‘The house is stunning,’ I say, marvelling at the rich, dark décor, panelled walls and high ceilings.
‘It’s quiet. You’ll probably struggle to sleep,’ he observes, slowing his step and allowing me to fall in line beside him.
‘I probably won’t even try. There’s no point. I’m wired.’ I shoot him a sidewards glance as our hands brush. Electricity shoots up my arm, over my spine, and through every nerve in my body.
‘An hour in the hot tub might wind you down.’ His palm lands on the base of my spine as he guides me up a wide set of red-carpeted stairs.
Goosebumps ripple over my skin as I admire the gilded landscapes framing the walls to our left.
I’d love to stop and study them, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than his hand.
His fingers. Especially now I know what he can do with them.
‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit.’ Saliva floods my tongue.
‘Neither did I.’ A wicked grin lifts his lips. ‘But I’ll get in if you do.’
The prospect sets heat flooding through my veins, throbbing between my legs as we reach the top of the stairs. ‘Is that a good idea?’
‘Probably not. But it beats the alternative—not getting in with you.’
I can’t bring myself to argue with him as he ushers me to the end of the hallway, the last door on the left.
‘This is your room.’ He pushes open the door.
Warm lamplight spills across a bedroom that looks like it was pulled from the pages of a glossy ranch catalogue.
Dark-stained timber panels climb halfway up the walls before giving way to rich cream plaster.
A heavy four-poster bed dominates the space, dressed in thick quilts—deep greens and russet reds woven through a cream base, the kind of bedding made for burrowing into on winter nights.
A plaid wool throw is folded across the foot, soft and inviting.
A pair of leather armchairs flank a small stone fireplace where a low fire crackles, sending out waves of heat and the faint scent of peat. Beside them, a trunk serves as a coffee table, scattered with a few hardback books and an old brass lamp.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch along one wall, framed by weighty drapes in forest green. Beyond the glass, the Wicklow Mountains roll away in soft, snow-dusted peaks, the sky already tinged with the pink-gold of a fading afternoon.
Everything about the room whispers warmth and quiet strength—like it’s built to weather storms, to hold secrets safe. Maybe even our secret…
By the door, my overnight case sits neatly on a bench. The glossy cream leather designer bag looks wildly out of place amid all the dark wood and worn leather. Its gold hardware winks in the firelight, a reminder of the world I came from—and the one I’m trying to forget, tonight at least.
‘You like it?’ Rian follows me in, pushes the door to, and leans on it until it shuts with a sharp click.
‘I love it. I wish we could stay here forever.’ I step further inside, spinning slowly, soaking in every decadent detail.
‘Me too,’ Rian sighs. ‘Me too.’ He brushes a hand over his chiselled jawline. ‘So are we hitting the hot tub?’ Huge ebony eyes flick towards the bed. ‘Or do you have a better idea?’
‘Hot tub,’ I decide. It doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.
That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.
‘There are robes in there.’ He points to a dark wooden wardrobe, its polished surface gleaming in the firelight. ‘I’ll get ready and meet you outside your door in five.’
‘Where’s your room?’ I blurt before I can stop myself.
‘Directly across from yours,’ he grins.
‘We’re playing with fire.’ I fold my arms across my chest.
‘I will never burn you.’ His eyes smoulder with sincerity.
‘You already have.’ I perch on the edge of the bed, running a hand over the soft quilted sheets. ‘But in the best and worst possible way.’
‘In that case, let’s get you in the water.’ He winks, twists the brass doorknob and backs out of the room. ‘See you in five.’
I cradle my head in my hands. What the fuck am I playing at? Nerves and guilt gut my stomach, but I can’t seem to say no to this man, even if it’s going to be the undoing of me.
One more night, the devil on my shoulder whispers. Give yourself one more night, and that’s it. Anthony’s away with his mistress, you deserve a bit of fun.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I strip out of my clothes, toss them on the bed and march across the room to find a robe.
Low laughter floats from along the corridor followed by the distinct banging noise that sounds suspiciously like a headboard hitting the wall.
My money’s on Scarlett and James. Word is, they can’t keep their hands off each other.
Envy snakes its way around my stomach, but I chase it away with thoughts of getting into a hot tub with a different Beckett.
The one whose face appears every time I close my eyes.
I grab a hairband, scrape my hair up into a messy bun, then step out into the hallway. Rian’s waiting with a grin on his face. His white robe is identical to mine and showcases his tanned skin to perfection.
‘Who needs Pornhub when you’re staying with the Becketts?’ The banging gets louder as we pass along the corridor. ‘I’m just praying that’s James and Scarlett and not my parents.’ He wrinkles his nose, and all the nerves bubbling up inside me dissipate.
He’s so effortless to be around. His smile is infectious. His warmth envelops me like a blanket. Here, with him, I feel safe. I feel wanted. Which is why I’m going to make the most of every single second.
‘Come on,’ he says softly, offering his hand.
He leads me down the back stairs, out through a side door and into the freezing Wicklow air.
Snow drifts across the wooden terrace, glowing bright beneath the fairy lights strung above the hot tub.
Steam curls lazily from the water, blurring the magnificent mountains beyond.
My breath fogs as he steps in front of me, fingers brushing my hip. He catches the tie of my robe, his eyes glinting. My heart rattles against my ribcage.
‘One more day?’
I don’t need to ask what he means. His words mirror my thoughts. I pause as chemistry pulses between us.
‘One more day and one more night,’ I nod. The thought of him holding me again is equally as enticing as the orgasms.
His fingers slowly tug on the tie around my waist until my robe falls open.