Page 21 of Release Me
As long as I’m the joker, the player, no one will ask why my eyes keep flicking to the door.
Sean narrows his eyes. James thumps my arm. Killian’s expression turns positively murderous. ‘The only one being replaced will be you if you don’t watch your mouth. Our parents won’t like it if I bury you in your own bullshit, but I’ll buy them a dog or something to make up for it.’
‘Ah, I’m only having the craic. Don’t be so touchy.’ I take a huge mouthful of Bollinger.
‘I’m going to shove your champagne glass up yourcrackif you don’t shut your mouth.’ Sean growls, pulling Layla tighter into his chest.
‘You know I haven’t ruled out you being bi yet, and statements like that aren’t helping your cause,’ I goad.
Avery snorts back a laugh, and Killian slaps her ass.
And then the air shifts. I don’t even need to turn around to know she’s here. Every cell in my body vibrates with an awareness that assures me she’s near.
Rebekka.
She struts in with Ivy and Caelon, her arm looped through Ivy’s like they’re underaged schoolgirls sneaking into a nightclub instead of two elegant women arriving at one of Dublin’s most exclusive gigs.
My chest seizes as though someone’s clamped a fist around it. The crowd, the lights, the background music fade. All I see is her. A slip of black silk hugs her skin like sin itself. A leather jacket encases her shoulders. Her long legs aresheathed in black shimmering tights—or are they stockings? Fuck, what I wouldn’t do to find out.
Her green eyes scan the room for a split second until they find mine.
Electricity pierces the air.
How has none of my family noticed? Well, apart from Zara. She notices everything. Maybe because unlike our siblings, she’s not preoccupied with sticking her tongue down her spouse’s throat. Thankfully, like me, she doesn’t have a spouse. I dread the day she finds one.
I crack a grin at Rebekka to cover the fact that I can’t fucking breathe.
She smiles back. And it’s a real one. One that reaches the corners of both her beautiful eyes—and every fucking corner of my delinquent heart.
James chooses this precise moment to rib me about my reputation. ‘You’re the only brother who hasn’t found a woman yet. Maybe it’s you who’s gay or bi?’
Sean snorts. Killian guffaws. Caelon shakes his head as he reaches us. ‘Rebekka, cover your ears. My brothers are being vulgar—again.’ He pretends to cover Ivy’s ears with his palms, but she swats him off with a giggle. ‘How much have you guys had to drink?’
‘Rian doesn’t need a drink to get dirty,’ Avery announces gleefully. Killian glowers at her. ‘I meant his mouth.’ Killian’s eyes narrow further. ‘The way he talks.’ Avery rolls her eyes at her fiancé and smacks a disgustingly wet kiss on his lips. ‘Simmer down, big guy, you know I only have eyes for you.’
Rebekka takes the seat beside mine. ‘It would make you sick, wouldn’t it?’ I turn to her, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek in greeting. She sucks in a breath, like I licked her lips or something.
Can’t say I haven’t thought about it.
And I’m not just talking about the ones on her face.
‘It would,’ she agrees finally, her eyes bore into mine. ‘Sick with envy.’ She laughs, but it sounds forced. The scent of her familiar perfume seeps into my nostrils—spiced vanilla and sin.
My heart sinks to my stomach at the helplessness of our situation, but before I can think of an answer, Zara bursts in, greeting everyone with hugs and kisses before finally squeezing herself neatly into the space beside Sean and Layla.
No surprise there—my little sister’s latched onto her newest sister-in-law to be like ivy on stone. To Zara, Layla’s more than just Sean’s fiancée; she’s still a princess, even if she’s traded palaces for passion. Avery is also obsessed with the latest addition to the Beckett family, but she’s been obsessed with Layla since long before they met. She used to stalk her on Instagram and gush over her outfits. Now she gets to claim her as family, which still cracks me the fuck up.
I reach for the crystal bucket and pop the wire cage off another chilled bottle of Bollinger. The cork eases free with a low sigh, foam bubbling at the lip. I pour two fresh flutes, passing one to Zara before turning to Rebekka. Her fingers brush mine as she takes the crystal stem, and there it is again—that same livewire spark that’s haunted me since the night we met. Static that feels like fire. Her startled eyes flick up to mine. She feels it too. And I can’t work out which is worse—that she’s in this with me, or if she wasn’t and there was no hope at all.
What am I thinking?
It doesn’t matter either way.
Whether she feels the same or not, it doesn’t change anything.
I cover my turbulent emotions with another lopsided grin, and raise my own glass. ‘Glad you could make it,’ I say.
‘Me too.’ Her lips twitch as she clinks my flute.
