Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
RIAN
Twelve hours later, we step into the Luxor Lounge.
The mirrored double doors glide shut behind us.
The floor is a glossy black that eats the light.
Low booths swathed in burgundy punctuate the room.
Crystal pendants hang like jewels from the ceiling.
Spotlights beam onto the stages, chrome poles rise from circular platforms. Exotic dancers twirl around them with that slow, fluid grace.
Strategically placed scraps of lace are the only items of clothing on stage.
The music is slow and intimate, giving the girls the opportunity to sway their hips seductively to the beat.
The bar smells of peat, bourbon and citrus twists.
Smartly dressed bouncers flank the room.
Every doorway has an eye. Every guest’s entry is checked and logged on my state-of-the-art security system.
Staff tilt their heads as we pass. The ma?tre d’ gives me a nod that’s equal parts respect and relief—when Rian Beckett walks in, there is no fuss. The room parts enough for us to glide by. I watch Rebekka as she drinks it in.
Surprisingly, she’s not shocked.
She’s not scandalised.
Instead her mouth parts, and she bites the inside of her lip in that delicious, slightly embarrassed way people do when something turns them on. The sight roars through me like a flame.
She lifts her chin, slowly, drinking in all the spotlit limbs on stage, the full round breasts on display, the hush that falls when the woman on the centre stage does the splits, spreading her legs wide for the crowd in front of her.
Rebekka’s eyes gleam with curiosity and hunger.
For a beat, I forget how to breathe. The club has always been a business to me, especially in later years, a place people pay for fantasies.
Tonight it’s showing me what it could be when she stands in it beside me.
Perhaps we could act out a few of our own later.
‘What do you think?’ I murmur, pulling her body flush against mine because I can’t help myself.
She glances up at me, heat in her gaze. ‘It’s impressive,’ she says.
The pitch of her voice is low, laugh-soft.
She tucks a loose curl behind her ear, visibly trying to steady herself.
Seeing her a little slack-mouthed, a little undone, turns something possessive inside me. ‘Classier than I imagined.’
‘You want to get up on stage and give it a go?’ I nod to the vacant pole to our right. The next girl will be on any second.
Her breath hitches, and I know that’s exactly what she’s fantasising about. Having all that attention. Being wanted. Desired. Hungered for.
‘I wouldn’t know how.’ Her fingers float to her throat.
‘One day, I’ll bring you here. You’ll get on stage, strip off slowly, and spread your legs wide for me.
Call it roleplay,’ I whisper in her ear, making sure my breath skims her neck.
Goosebumps ripple over her bare shoulders, and I bet my life her nipples are twin peaks inside her bra.
‘You will have my undivided attention, and I will lavish it on you. But it can only be you and me. Because no one gets to see what’s mine. ’
Her pelvis presses against mine, and I know she’s imagining it.
‘Tonight, we’ve got business to attend to.’ I guide her past the main room to the private lift at the rear—staff eyes flick to confirm our clearance and the door closes with a soft hum.
Upstairs, the Luxor opens into the private lounge, wood-panelled walls, a long table, dim wall lights, leather chairs. It’s opulent without being showy. And the security cameras here feed directly into my office. No one gets past this room without me knowing.
My brothers are already there, clustered like a pack.
James is leaning back, whiskey in hand. Sean’s shoulders are relaxed but watchful.
Killian looks like the death penalty in a suit.
Caelon is staring at his watch like he’s counting down the seconds until he can get back to Ivy and the kids.
They all stand as we enter, greet Rebekka warmly, shake my hand, then sit back down when I reach for the whiskey decanter from the centre of the table and pour out two measures, one for Rebekka, one for me.
‘Thanks for coming, guys. I really appreciate it.’ I look at each of my brothers in turn.
‘We’re family.’ Killian nods solemnly. ‘Whatever we face, we face it together.’
My brothers look over, and I catch the way their faces soften—protectiveness, curiosity, calculation—sorted in the same heartbeat.
James raises his glass. ‘Anything worth having is worth fighting for, little brother.’ His eyes dart between Rebekka and me.
‘It’s clear you two are enamoured with each other. Welcome to the family, Rebekka.’
Rebekka gives a tiny, guarded smile and slides into the chair beside me, knees brushing mine.
‘Thank you.’ She’s still biting the inside of her lip, eyes drifting briefly between my brothers.
She spent New Year with them, and she’s socialised with them plenty of times over the years, but the dynamics are different now.
She doesn’t need to be wary. They will welcome her with open arms.
Sean inclines his head. ‘So what’s this idea you’ve had? I hope it’s better than the rest you’ve come up with over the last twenty-seven years.’
‘I think it is.’ I feel a quick, hot burst of pride.
Rebekka’s hand finds mine and squeezes. The contact is small, but it grounds me. I catch her eye, and she mouths, quietly, ‘Thank you,’ before her attention drifts back to the men and the business we have to do.
I clear my throat. Tonight we talk solutions. Tonight we make sure that if a war is coming, we are not the ones left with nothing.
‘We buy it,’ I say.
Bekka blinks. ‘Buy what? Remington?’
‘Remington Publishing Ireland,’ I repeat, calm now. ‘We take it off the table entirely. I’ll buy it outright.’ The words land heavy and easy. If this is what it takes to stop Anthony weaponising her life, then I’ll spend the money.
I don’t want her to ever have to gamble her future again.
Her mouth drops open, that look of astonished relief hitting her face like a benediction.
‘I know it sounds dramatic,’ I rush on. ‘But we don’t need a crowdfund or a debt ladder—this is a cash play.
I’ll fund the purchase. Then we place the shares into a holding trust. Rebekka keeps operational control as CEO; Beckett Holdings provides the capital and political cover.
Anthony loses the leverage because the asset is out of his direct reach. ’
James leans forward, eyes sharp. ‘If you’re buying it, Rian, we still need to be surgical.
Legal structure, trust vehicles, escrow, the lot.
The optics have to be clean.’ He takes a sip and nods at Sean.
‘Sean, you’ll architect the legal shell.
Make it bulletproof and anonymous until closing.
Killian, I want the security wall in place overnight.
No travel, no meetings without clearance.
Caelon—you do the liquidity sweep and make sure the funds move without leaving a paper trail that screams “hostile buyout”. ’
Sean’s mouth tightens into a line of approval.
‘We’ll use a layered ownership model—trustee in a neutral jurisdiction, beneficial owners sitting under Beckett Holdings, and operational control contracts that keep Remington functioning under Rebekka.
I’ll have the best corporate counsel on standby tonight.
Emergency injunction templates, immediate signatory changes, account freezes where necessary.
We make the move before anyone can react. ’
Killian’s voice is blunt and precise. ‘Security: double detail for Rebekka, en-bloc entry for any meetings, surveillance on every known De Courcy associate. If he tries financial or legal hits, we respond with forensic audits and contingency liquidity. I’ll have my team tail his known operators.’
Caelon taps his phone. ‘I’ll arrange the transfers through neutral intermediaries. Short-term bridge liquidity from hospitality reserves, staggered transactions, escrow release on completion. We avoid the PR spike until we control the message.’
Bekka exhales slowly as the logistics sink in. ‘You’d do that for me?’
‘I’d burn the world down for you if that’s what it took,’ I tell her. The men around the table meet each other’s eyes, sober and ready.
‘You’re one of us now, Rebekka,’ Killian says. ‘We take care of our own.’
My brothers fall into the rhythm—roles assigned, timelines sketched.
The plan is surgical. I buy it outright; Beckett financial muscle shields the transaction.
Sean will lay the legal architecture. Killian will fortify the protective ring.
James will manage the optics and press. Caelon will handle liquidity mechanics.
‘What kind of a timeframe are we talking?’ Rebekka asks. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘You just need to keep doing what you’re doing—head down, keep working remotely. Sign the paperwork when the time comes.’
‘You know he will actually kill me if this works.’
I growl, ‘He’ll have to get past us first.’
‘If he’s as resentful of your marriage as Rian says he is, then maybe he’ll be relieved. At least he’ll be able to walk away without losing his shares in the bank. He might not get Remington Publishing, but he’s not going to lose anything either.’
‘Other than his pride,’ Sean scoffs. ‘The man’s ego needs its own address.’
‘He’s not wrong,’ Rebekka agrees.
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’
When we finish, the air in the room is taut but steady—braced for a fight we have chosen to meet on our terms.
‘We move fast,’ James says. ‘We stay quiet. We keep her name out of the headlines until we have closed. Then we show a united front.’
I nod. ‘Exactly.’
We raise our glasses—not to victory, not yet, but to a plan.