Page 69 of Release Me
But as I glance at the magazine, I’m not sure I can live anywhere else.
Sean lets the silence stretch for a moment, then clears his throat, shifting the mood.
‘So,’ he says, tipping his chin towards the framed plans propped against the wall. ‘How’s the refurb at Elixir coming along? You ready for the grand reopening on Friday night, or are you planning to charm the inspectors with that scowl you’ve been perfecting?’
I huff out a breath, grateful for the change of subject. ‘It’s fine. Mostly. The sound system still needs tweaking, and I’m half-convinced the new cocktail glasses are going to bankrupt me before anyone can drink out of them, but it’ll be ready.’
‘Valentine’s Day,’ Sean muses, amusement curling his mouth. ‘Trust you to reopen a nightclub on the most romantic night of the year.’
I flick a pen across the desk, avoiding his knowing look. ‘It just made sense for the calendar.’
‘Right,’ he says, drawling the word as only an older brother can. ‘Hoping a certain someone might show up?’
I shoot him a glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. ‘It’s a public event, Sean. Anyone could show up. And if a certain someone does show up, she’ll be with her husband. Though by his own admission, he’s still shagging his PA. He told me himself last week at the golf course. The stupid fucker.’
‘I told you he was a wanker.’ Sean shakes his head with disgust, rises from the chair, and smooths down the front of his jacket. ‘But stay out of their marriage, Rian. If she chooses to leave him, it’s a different story.’
‘She can’t leave him.’ I lean back in my chair, letting the legs creak under my weight. ‘There’s too much at stake.’
‘Yeah—for all of you. Don’t forget it.’ Sean studies me for another heartbeat, as though deciding whether to press the point, then nods once and heads for the door.
When he’s gone, I glance again at the magazine on my desk, at the faint outline of her smile beneath the fold.
Will she come to Elixir Friday?
Do I want her to?
I’m not sure what’s worse, seeing her and not being able to touch her, or not seeing her at all.
Anthony will definitely show up. As my oldest friend, he’ll make a point of being seen there. The place will be crawling with paparazzi, desperate to steal shots of Layla and Avery especially, though the name Beckett draws enough interest alone.
Will he pretend to be the devoted husband, given it’s Valentine’s Day?
Or will he leave her to rot in his penthouse like he usually does?
Both options make me seethe.
But it’s not my fight, not until she makes it mine, anyway.
I slam the magazine shut and shove it in the top drawer of my desk
Enough now, Rian, enough.
Chapter Thirty
REBEKKA
‘Happy Valentine’s Day, darling,’ I say sarcastically, as my husband passes by me in the kitchen. He’s wearing a navy Armani suit, and a pink fitted shirt—how very appropriate for the day. His aftershave wafts through the air along with the stench of infidelity. He’s going out—again. Probably with the PA. As far as mistresses go, this one is milking Anthony’s mediocre dick longer than most.
‘I’ll be late. Don’t wait up for me, honey.’ Sarcasm drips from his tone. He doesn’t bother to tell me where he’s going, and I don’t care enough to ask.
The front door bangs behind him. I stand for a moment in the silent kitchen, staring at the heart-shaped foil balloon floating above the fruit bowl—a gift from the concierge, not my husband.
I should open a bottle of wine and sink into the sofa with Netflix, pretend today doesn’t exist. But a restless spark flares low in my stomach.
Why should I sit here waiting while he whisks off his PA?
Ivy invited me to the reopening at Elixir tonight. Apparently Rian has outdone himself with this place. It was fancybefore, but Ivy swears the cocktail glasses are made of eighteen-carat gold and the new bar glitters like it’s made of diamonds. She said even the bathrooms look like they’ve been imported from the Burj Al Arab or something.
