Page 54 of Release Me
I grab a coffee mug, partly because I’m in desperate need of caffeine and partly because I’m contemplating throwing it at his head if he tries to put his filthy hands on me. ‘Look, go fuck Sarah?—’
‘It’s Sorcha,’ he snaps.
I know that, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of saying her name. ‘Whatever.’ I sigh, forcing an air of boredom even though my heart is pounding in my chest. ‘Do what you have to do, just don’t get caught. I refuse to be made a fool of. If the press gets wind of this, I’ll become another one ofthose poor, pitied, pathetic women who turn a blind eye, and I refuse to be that person, okay?’
‘So, you’re okay with the situation?’ His voice is dangerously low.
‘No, of course I’m not okay with the situation, but it has fuck all to do with Sandra, and more to do with toxicity between us, long before she came along.’ I run my fingers through my hair. I sigh, resting my backside against the island. The same island I was naked on a few days earlier. ‘Look, Anthony, let’s be honest here, we never hit it off. Never found a mutual ground. We haven’t shared a bed for longer than we ever did. Do you think maybe we should talk about a …’
I let the D word hang between us, watching his face as it darkens to a vivid shade of purple as the penny drops. ‘Do you think I’d really allow you to divorce me? Do you not remember the contract? Everything you own will be mine. Everything you’ve worked for will be mine. But even at that, there’s no way I’d grant you a divorce. Our kind don’t do that.’
‘By our kind, I take it you mean pompous assholes?’ I yell, my fingers tightening around the mug handle, ready to throw it at any second, but what good would that do? He’s not going to be the one who has to pick it up.
‘For better or for worse, my darling. And just so you know, you have it good. Things could be an awful lot worse. Take my word for it.’ He struts out of the kitchen, snatches up his bag and slams the door behind him.
Asshole.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my shorts. It can’t be my mother given the time difference.
My heart skips a beat.
Rian?
I pull it out and stare at the screen.
Ivy: Happy New Year! On the off chance you’re free, we’re all heading to the Beckett’s Wicklow Mansion for a couple of nights. We’d love you to join us.
She’s up early. I guess that’s what happens when you have kids. Will I ever find out? Anthony and I are expected to produce an heir at some point. His mother is forever dropping hints about grandchildren, but unless that baby is made in a test tube, it’s not looking likely.
An ache of longing strikes my sternum. I always imagined myself having kids one day, but that dream was centred around having them with someone I loved. Given I’m five years older than Anthony, I have less time to play with than he does.
And let’s be honest, how the hell could I bring a baby into this toxic environment that we call life?
My chest is tight. It feels like there’s no air in here. The urge to bang my head off the island is real. Escaping this penthouse is so tempting. As big as it is, it’s utterly suffocating. But if Rian’s going, can I trust myself not to throw myself at him?
Probably not.
I type out a quick reply.
Thanks for the invite but I’ve got a shitload of work to do. Happy New Year. Thank you for thinking of me. Cocktails soon. X
I help myself to a coffee, grab my laptop and take a seat at the island.
Three hours later, I’m still at the island, poring over a new author’s submission. My coffee’s gone cold. I’ve reread thesame paragraph so often the words have started to blur. Work was supposed to be my distraction, but my brain keeps drifting to Ivy’s invite. To Wicklow. To a man I shouldn’t even be thinking about.
The sudden banging on the front door jolts me. I’m not expecting anyone.
For a brief second, I dare to hope it’s Rian. I drag my fingers through my hair, glance down at my casual loungewear and shrug. He’s seen it all before. Including what’s underneath.
But when I open the door, it’s not him standing there. It’s Scarlett, Avery and Ivy that burst through it.
‘Happy New Year!’ Scarlett beams. They push past me and head straight into the kitchen. I follow them in wondering what the hell is going on.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Wicklow?’ I say, throwing my hands up in the air.
‘We’re staging an interfriendshen,’ Avery says, shrugging out of a cream wool coat and brandishing a bottle of champagne. ‘We’re not letting you ring in the new year with your laptop. You’re coming with us.’
Ivy drops her Marc Jacobs tote onto the floor, her eyes softening as they take in my sweater, messy bun and the coffee beside my laptop. ‘Please come with us, Bekka. The house is all decked out. There’s talk of snow. The fire will be roaring from dawn to midnight.’
