Chapter Thirty-Seven
REBEKKA
I pluck my mobile out of the only handbag Callaghan packed for me—a Marc Jacobs oversized tote in tan that matches my knee-high Louboutins.
Anthony flashes across the screen.
I swear the bastard can somehow sense my happiness and is hell bent on ruining it.
I cancel the call and toss the phone onto the table. It rings again immediately. I cancel that call too. And the next.
‘Asshole,’ Rian spits.
When it rings for a fifth time, he says, ‘Maybe you should answer it.’ He eyes the phone. ‘Or I could answer it for you?’
‘What am I supposed to say?’ I should have known he’d ruin the best day I’ve had in years. He can’t seem to help himself.
‘Tell him you’re leaving him, you want a divorce and that you’re going to marry me the second he grants you one.’ A wicked smile curls his lips up.
‘Very funny.’
‘I’m not joking, sweetheart.’ He eyes me steadily.
‘You’re crazy.’ I reach for my drink as the phone continues to buzz on the table between us.
‘Crazy about you.’ His eyes flick to the phone. It’s relentless. ‘He’s not going to give up. He’ll probably send out a search party if you don’t tell him where you are.’
‘He’ll send one if I do, trust me.’ I take another sip of champagne, but the goodness has gone from it with my mobile blowing up like a bomb between us.
‘Tell him you need some space to figure things out. Tell him you’re staying with me.’
‘That will go down well.’
‘It won’t—but I will.’ He winks again.
‘Such a joker.’
‘Better than being a joke.’
I stare at him for a long beat. ‘Wait, is that what you think you are—a joke?’ I try to block out the incessant buzzing because I have a feeling this conversation is way more important than whatever my asshole husband has to say.
‘I don’t.’ He shrugs. ‘But sometimes I think my family think I am. They’re always ribbing me about the bars and clubs—especially the gentlemen’s club.’
‘Your family adore you. They probably rib you because you’re always ribbing them.
No one in their right mind would ever consider you a joke.
Look at what you’ve achieved. You’re twenty-seven and you own a string of successful bars and nightclubs.
’ I remind him. ‘That’s not a joke, Rian. That’s incredible.’
His mouth curves, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘Maybe. But sometimes I feel I’ll always be the eternal kid brother. They won’t take me seriously until I settle down.’
‘Why didn’t you settle?’ The words are out before I can stop myself.
He doesn’t hesitate. ‘Because I met you.’
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
His eyes pin mine, steady, unflinching. ‘That night, at your engagement party… something inside of me just… screamed at me. Everyone else faded out. There’s been no one since who’s come close.
I tried. Fuck, you know there’s been a lot of women.
’ He looks at the floor. ‘But I couldn't settle, when I knew what I was settling for wasn’t you.’
‘Rian…’ My voice cracks.
He reaches across, covers my hand with his, thumb stroking slow circles. ‘I tried, Bekka. But the truth is, the minute I saw you, you ruined me for anyone else.’
The phone buzzes again, insistent and ugly on the tablecloth between us. But I don’t look at it. I can’t. I’m too busy staring at the man across from me, and realising that my heart isn’t just racing—it’s breaking wide open.
‘Get that.’ He motions. ‘Or I will.’
I reach for the phone slowly, staring at the screen for a few seconds before finally swiping to answer. ‘Yes?’ I snap.
‘Where the fuck are you?’ Anthony’s voice booms in my ear. I press the volume button down to the lowest it’ll go.
‘Out.’ I roll my eyes at Rian. His darken to a dangerous shade of ebony.
‘So I see. The concierge said you haven’t been home since Friday.’ His tone is weighted with an unspoken accusation. The urge to laugh at his audacity bubbles in my chest, though really, there’s nothing funny about any of this.
‘Well, if you’re only hearing about this now, then neither did you,’ I point out.
‘Don’t play games with me, Rebekka. Where the fuck are you?’ He growls. I hear thudding, like he’s pacing the penthouse.
‘I told you, I’m out.’
‘With who?’
‘One of the Becketts.’ My eyes meet Rian’s, and he nods approvingly.
‘Which one?’ His voice drops, like he’s worried whichever Beckett I’m with might overhear him. That ship sailed long ago.
‘Doesn’t matter.’ I lift my drink to my lips and sip it leisurely, enjoying my husband’s obvious discomfort.
‘They’re my friends.’ He huffs.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’ My eyes rake over the man opposite me. He’s everything my husband isn’t. Everything I want. Everything I need. Everything I can’t have unless I give up everything I’ve worked for. ‘How’s Sarah? Did she enjoy the opening the other night?’ I ask sarcastically.
‘It’s Sorcha,’ he raises his voice again. ‘And we were meeting clients.’
‘Course you were, buddy.’ With Rian opposite me, I feel like I could take on the world. His unwavering strength gives me strength.
‘Come home now. I insist.’ His voice is as cold as his heart.
‘Insist until you’re blue in the face, asshole.’ God, it feels so fucking good to finally stand up to him. ‘I won’t be home anytime soon. In fact. I may never come home.’
‘You’ll have to come home at some point, Rebekka. And when you do, God fucking help you. I own you. Don’t ever fucking forget it.’ He disconnects the call, and a shiver of apprehension rattles down my spine.
‘What a wanker.’ Rian’s hand is shaking. His expression is positively livid. ‘I’ve a good mind to drive to the penthouse right now and rip his fucking head off for talking to you like that.’
‘Don’t,’ I beg. ‘He’s not worth it.’
‘Did you ever love him?’ he asks quietly.
I sigh. ‘I tried to.’ I blow out a breath. ‘But no, I didn’t.’
‘He wasn’t always like this.’ Rian lifts his glass to his lips and drinks. ‘He got progressively more arrogant throughout our teenage years. I don’t even recognise him as the boy I grew up with. I heard his threats. Do you think he’d actually hurt you?’
I pause for a minute, contemplating. ‘I’m immune to any pain he tries to inflict on me now.’ I swallow.
‘What did he mean, I own you?’ Rian seethes.
‘He was referring to the clause in the marriage contract that his family drew up. If I ever divorce him, he gets to keep Remington Publishing Ireland. It’s worth five times what his family invested in it, and I’ve paid them back what they invested in the New York division twice over.’
‘Shit.’ Rian shakes his head again. ‘And what if he divorces you?’
‘Then I get his shares in the bank. Marianne De Courcy was shrewd. She doesn’t believe in divorce, so she made sure it wasn’t an option. For either of us.’
‘There has to be a way around it,’ Rian muses.
‘Believe me, I’ve had numerous lawyers look into it. The contract is airtight.’
Rian stares at me as he reaches over the table to take my hand. ‘I don’t want to terrify you, Rebekka, but there’s something I need to tell you.’
My stomach plummets. Nausea rises in my ribcage. I wet my lips.
I’ve been let down my every man who claimed they’d care for me, first my father, then my husband.
If Rian is about to let me down, I don’t know if my heart will survive it.
‘What is it?’ I whisper.
He squeezes my fingers, deep soulful eyes boring into mine. ‘I love you, Rebekka Remington. I loved you from the moment we met. I have no doubt I will always love you. I can’t help it. It’s not something I can control.’
The air rushes from my lungs. I open my mouth, but words won’t come. I was expecting the worst. Not the best.
When I don’t speak, Rian ploughs on. ‘I just want you to know that if you choose to leave him, if you lose the business, you’ll always have me. But I’ll never ever pressure you.’
‘I love you,’ I blurt. ‘I love everything about you. I love the way you make me laugh. I love the way you love me.’ My eyes well with tears, not for the first time because of a man—but for this man. They’re happy tears.