Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
REBEKKA
New Year’s Day is supposed to be a day of hope, wonder, the promise of new beginnings and a fresh start.
Basically, it’s a load of bullshit.
I wake up in Rian’s arms in the giant fourposter bed, with the heavy quilt throw draped around us.
After the fireworks, we had a couple more drinks before the Becketts began to excuse themselves one by one.
Rian snuck across to my room shortly before two a.m., but nothing happened between us.
Well, nothing sexual anyway, which was surprising.
He climbed into my bed and wrapped his arms around me, while I cried silently into his chest for everything that we can never be, everything that we can never have.
Last night with the Becketts was the best night of my life–but also the worst. Because now I know exactly what my life could have been if I hadn’t married Anthony. How happy I could have been.
I nuzzle my cheek against Rian’s chiselled chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beating. I tilt my face up to stare at his, committing every detail of this moment to memory. His thick, dark lashes slowly flutter open.
‘Good morning,’ I whisper.
‘Any morning I wake up next to you is a great morning,’ he mumbles, pulling me tighter against his torso. ‘I overslept. I was supposed to wake you up with my tongue.’
‘It must have been the sleep meditation,’ I shrug.
‘No, I think it was having you in my arms, and maybe the fact I was tired after the best blowjob of my life.’ His lips curl upwards.
Heat floods my veins at the memory. ‘How about another one?’
‘Only if you sit on my face again.’ He cocks his head, beckoning me upwards.
‘If you insist.’ I rock on top of him, shimmying up his chest. ‘But this is the last time, okay?’
Am I telling him that?
Or myself?
Six hours and another lavish meal later—and I’m not referring to Rian’s giant dick—Thomson is loading my overnight bag into the car.
Low clouds linger in the bleak-looking sky.
The pristine, sparkling snow has melted, leaving that sludgy, dirty mushy mess—a perfect reflection of how I feel on the inside.
‘Thank you so much for having me.’ I hug Vivienne, her Chanel perfume wrapping around me like a blanket.
‘You are very welcome, my dear.’ She squeezes me in a tight embrace. I don’t miss the pity in her eyes. ‘Are you sure you won’t stay another night?’
‘I’d love to, but I can’t.’ If I do, I may never leave.
‘I like you, Rebekka,’ she whispers, and I suck in my breath waiting for the impending “but…”
‘I like you, and I know my son likes you.’ Concern creeps into the corners of her eyes. ‘Loves you even.’
My mouth parts, but words won’t come. What am I supposed to say to that?
‘I want you to know that you have my blessing. You will always have a place at my table, in my home and in our lives. But, please, don’t string my son along if you don’t feel the same way as he clearly feels about you.’
‘I—’
‘No need to say anything, dear. I know the situation. I feel for you. I really do. And while nobody wants the “D” word, sometimes it’s necessary.’
‘It might be necessary, but it’s not an option. Not for me anyway,’ I whisper back. Sympathy floods her face.
‘My sons are very creative. If you want help, ask for help.’ She pats my arm and steps back. ‘You’re a lovely girl, Rebekka. I can see why he’s so enamoured with you.’
I clear my throat. It’s no surprise his family have noticed the chemistry burning up between us. They had first row seats. But what does surprise me is their easy acceptance of the situation. Rian was so certain that his family wouldn’t approve.
‘Take care of yourself, pet. My door is always open.’ Her eyes fall to my left hand. Specifically to the obscenely large rings on my fourth finger. ‘Just try to get rid of those before you cross a threshold you can’t cross back.’ There’s no malice in her tone. Just warmth and kindness.
My throat throbs. ‘Yes. And thank you.’
‘We’ll miss you.’ Avery, Scarlett, Ivy, Layla and Zara hug me in turn.
‘I’ll miss you, but I better get home. I’ve got a lot of work on.’
‘I want all the details when I get back to Dublin,’ Ivy whispers in my ear.
The Beckett boys all bid me goodbye with a polite kiss on the cheek. Rian hangs back until everyone else has returned inside. He stares pointedly at Thomson and clears his throat. Thomson opens the driver’s door of the Bentley and slips inside, leaving us alone.
‘I wish things could be different.’ I sigh, my breath fogging in front of my face.
‘Me too.’ Rian kisses my forehead. ‘I’m always on the other end of the phone if you need anything, okay? Call me anytime. Even just for a chat.’
We both know I won’t.
I can’t.
‘Thank you.’ I swallow the golf ball forming at the back of my throat. ‘For everything.’
His lips brush over mine softly, then he opens the car door for me. ‘See you.’
But we both know he won’t. Not unless it’s in public, or if Anthony ever decides to take me to one of his corporate functions again.
The drive home is miserable. If Thomson notices I’m bawling my eyes out in the backseat, he doesn’t comment.
I stare out the window, watching as the snow-dusted pines fade to hedgerows, then to the anonymous sprawl of the M50.
When the Bentley finally noses up to the apartment block, the marble lobby gleams through the revolving doors, cold and spotless—a world away from the warmth I just left behind.
Thomson opens the back door with a small smile. ‘Mrs De Courcy.’ He nods politely, but his address lands like a slap to the face.
‘It’s Rebekka, please.’
Something like pity flicks through his eyes. ‘I’ll get your bag out the boot, Rebekka.’
‘Thank you.’ The wind whips around me, and I pull my cashmere coat tighter across my chest.
‘Do you want me to carry it up for you?’ He offers, kindly.
‘No, I’m good, thanks.’ I’m not good. Not even close. I hover on the pavement, shifting from one foot to the other, reluctant to sever the final thread connecting me to last night. ‘Are you going back there?’
‘Yes. I go wherever Killian and Avery go.’ He glances up at my apartment block, then back to the car.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, take me back with you but somehow I manage to restrain myself. ‘Safe journey. Thank you for the ride.’ I back away, towards the revolving doors, before I do something stupid.
‘You’re welcome.’ He watches until I’m safely inside the building. I wave through the glass, and then he gets in the car and drives off. I watch with an ache in my chest as the car disappears, merging with the traffic.
Right, Rebekka, enough is enough.
You’ve had your fun.
Time to get the fuck on with things.
I nod at the concierge as I pass through, then push the button to summon the lift. A bath, a glass of wine and a good book are just what the doctor ordered. Work can wait until the morning. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.
By the time I open the penthouse door, I almost convince myself I’m fine. Almost. I stride through to the kitchen with a cold, crisp glass of wine in mind. The sun is setting outside the huge windows overlooking the city below.
I hit the lights and almost jump out of my skin when I spot a silhouette sitting at the kitchen island.
Anthony’s voice slices through the quiet.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ He grips his phone in one hand, a glass of something amber in the other. The skyline glows behind him, steel and glass—a world away from roaring fires and snow-dusted lawns.
I tighten my fingers on the strap of my bag and pray I don’t look as guilty as I feel. ‘Hello, darling,’ I coo sarcastically. ‘Happy New Year.’
‘I said, where have you been?’ He spits, slamming his glass down on the counter.
‘It’s a bit late to pretend you care now, don’t you think?’ I stalk over to the fridge, pull out a bottle of Gavi, and grab a glass.
‘Oh, I care, alright. I won’t be made a mug of, Rebekka.’ His cold blue eyes drink in every detail from my hair to my high-heeled ankle boots. ‘And stop turning off the fucking security cameras.’ He throws a hand up in the air.
‘So you can spy on me between shagging your PA? Ha, I don’t think so.’ I pour myself a giant glass of wine. I’m going to need it. ‘Who’s making a mug out of who, seriously?’
His face turns practically purple. ‘Where were you?’
‘I was with Avery, Ivy, Scarlett and the rest of the Becketts.’ I take a mouthful of wine.
His eyes snap up. ‘The Becketts?’ His tone is incredulous.
‘Yep.’ I pop the p, then take another sip from my glass while he digests that little piece of information. ‘At Silverpine.’
‘You were in Wicklow? Was Rian there?’ Anthony’s face is turning a vivid shade of violet.
Does he suspect I was in another man’s arms not twelve hours ago?
Does he care?
‘All the Becketts were there.’ I lean against the worktop, not bothering to remove my coat.
I’m not even sure I’m staying. Then again, with my friends all in Wicklow, it’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go.
‘You know, it turns out that some men actually like to ring in the New Year with their wives.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Rebekka,’ he spits, banging his fist down on the island. ‘This is so embarrassing.’
‘What’s embarrassing? That everyone asked where you were? Or that our friends just accepted you were away with your fancy woman and didn’t want to leave me here on my own for New Year?’
He flinches then. ‘They’re my friends, Rebekka,’ he snaps. ‘You’d do well to remember that.’
Ha. That’s what he thinks. I’m in no mood to argue with him.
‘I’m going for a bath.’
‘Don’t drown,’ he says sarcastically.
Oh, I’m drowning alright, drowning in the misery of this marriage.