Page 22 of Reveal Me
12.1 Either party may terminate this agreement at any time without judgment or penalty. 12.2 Upon termination, all physical records of the agreement shall be destroyed. 12.3 The confidentiality clause shall remain in effect indefinitely. 12.4 A formal closure conversation shall take place within 14 days of termination, if desired by either party.
13. SIGNATURES
We, the undersigned, enter into this agreement freely and with full understanding of its contents. We acknowledge that this document represents our mutual desires and boundaries and commit to honouring them for the duration of our relationship.
Sean Beckett, Dominant
Princess Layla of the House of Sinclair, Submissive
Date
This document exists solely between the signatories and shall not be shared with any third party without explicit mutual consent.
By the time I’ve finished reading about bondage, orgasm control, discipline and exhibitionism, I’m wetter that I was in Reveal. One hard limit isn’t sitting well with me though, but that can be negotiated. I drain the remainder of my wine, then reach between my legs with Sean Beckett’s blazing black eyes at the forefront of my brain.
Roll on Sunday.
Chapter Nine
SEAN
Thankfully, James and Scarlett are less frisky at Sunday lunch than they were in the lift on Friday. Like the rest of the house, the dining room drips with old money, but since Scarlett moved in, James’s pristine bachelor pad has evolved into a proper family home. Personal touches line every surface now—fresh hydrangeas in crystal vases, family photographs, kids’ drawings are framed and displayed like an expensive art collection. There’s an ambience of comfortable chaos that comes with toddlers and genuine happiness.
My mother, Vivienne, perches on the edge of her chair, perfectly groomed and talking incessantly as usual. My father, Alexander, sits beside her, suited and booted, holding her hand atop the table. They’re still sickeningly in love after forty years.
Caelon has one arm draped over his fiancée Ivy, her massive diamond catching the firelight as she leans into him. Their children, Orla and Owen, systematically dismantle an antique chess set in the corner.
Killian is practically devouring his new girlfriend, Avery, with his eyes. They’ve been inseparable all afternoon, hishand permanently attached to her back like she might be kidnapped before his eyes—again. Last month’s Christmas festivities were beyond dramatic—even by Beckett standards. They’re utterly enamoured with each other. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing Killian with a woman.
Rian occupies the seat to my left, my sister, Zara, is to my right, both squabbling about whose car is faster, his midnight blue Porsche 911 Turbo S or her candy red Jaguar F-Type R. They’re leaning across me as if I’m not even here. Rosa, James’s housekeeper, glides between us with practiced efficiency.
‘More wine?’ Rosa asks, already tilting a bottle of Château Beckett Cuvée Private Reserve toward my glass—a robust Bordeaux blend from our family vineyards in Provence.
‘No, thank you.’ I place my hand over the top of the glass.
Orla runs across the floor and launches herself into my lap. ‘Uncle Sean, why don’t you have a girlfriend?’ She wraps her little arms around my neck and stares at me in that curious way that only children can get away with.
‘Oh, he’s not into women, honey.’ Rian answers for me, firing a wink at her.
‘What does that mean?’ Orla looks from me, to Rian, to Caelon, then back to me.
‘Some of us have better things to do than pursue the next conquest.’ I glare at Rian over Orla’s head.
‘What’s a conquest?’ Her little palms land on my cheeks, angling my face to look at hers.
‘Go ask your Uncle James. He conquered plenty before he met Scarlett.’ Rian snorts.
Orla hops off my lap and rounds the table to where James is sitting, but thankfully, before she can open her mouth, Scarlett appears with a bottle of Beckett’s Black Label champagne. She hands James the bottle to open. ‘So…we have an announcement,’ she says, her hand reaching for his as they beam at each other like love-struck teenagers. ‘We’re expecting again.’
It’s official. My oldest brother cannot leave his wife alone.
The room erupts appropriately. My mother dabs the corners of her eyes with her knuckles. My father claps James’s shoulder with dynastic pride, while my nieces, Harper and Halle, remain blissfully unaware their reign as family princesses will soon face a new screaming, but no doubt adorable, challenge.
‘Congratulations,’ I offer, raising my glass in a toast that, for some reason, feels a little hollow. James grins with the smugness of a man ticking another box on life’s grand checklist.
I shake my brother’s hand, offer my sister-in-law a perfunctory kiss, then take my seat again, watching this tableau of domestic perfection. Of the six Beckett children, only Rian, Zara, and I remain unattached. Zara’s too young to even consider settling down. And God help the man to take her on. With five older, formidable brothers, I don’t envy him. As for Rian, he simply flits between models, actresses, and influencers with a butterfly’s attention span.
And me. Well…The things that satisfy me exist in a reality disconnected from this butter-coloured bubble of conventional success. Like I said, I accepted long ago that the chasm between my underground existence and my surface life could never be bridged.
