Chapter One
ZARA
‘Are you sure you want to go to the Caribbean alone?’ Livvie, my blonde, busty, ball-breaking best friend says from the bar stool beside me. We’re in my brother, Rian’s bar, Envy. With its gleaming black marble counters and velvet covered booths, it’s as opulent as every other establishment he owns—one of the few I didn’t design the interior of.
My business, Beckett’s Deluxe Design Agency, is the most exclusive interior design company in the country. We’re solidly booked out six, sometimes even nine months in advance—which is both a blessing and a curse.
‘Gee, let me think.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Do I want to spend the rest of January in dreary Dublin, or jet off to a luxurious five star resort in the Dominican Republic, away from the prying eyes of my family and the media? What do you think?’ I reach for my cocktail from the bar in front of me; an Old Fashioned, made with Beckett’s Gold, my family’s whiskey. Rian refuses to serve anything else in any of his bars. ‘It’s bad enough having five big, burly brothers mollycoddling me. Please don’t you start as well!’
When I say James, Caelon, Killian, Sean and Rian are overprotective—it’s the understatement of the century.
Livvie leans forward, a small smirk tugging her lips. ‘How are your five big, burly brothers, by the way?’ She flutters her thick dark eyelashes suggestively.
‘Married,’ I remind her. ‘Or near enough.’
I’m used to my friends swooning over my brothers. Drooling over them. Obsessing over them. I’ve had to endure it my entire life. At least now that they’re all finally off the singles’ market, I have a legitimate reason to say no when I’m begged to make introductions.
‘Did Killian and Avery set a date for the wedding yet?’ Livvie takes a sip of her Mojito, eyeing me over the rim. She’s obsessed with my future sister-in-law’s magazine column in the American fashion and lifestyle magazine, Elegance.
‘Yes, finally.’ I cross my legs, smoothing down the fitted ebony Zimmermann dress I picked out earlier. ‘Next Christmas.’
‘That’s almost a whole year away,’ Livvie groans. ‘That’s one photoshoot I’m dying to pore over. What type of dress do you think she’ll go for? How many bridesmaids is she having? Do you think she’ll wear her hair up or down?’
‘I don’t know.’ I also have no interest in obsessing over every tiny decadent detail. I’m over the moon my broodiest brother is finally getting married. They’ve been engaged for a while now, but I don’t feel the need to dissect every aspect of the arrangements.
I’m not one of those girls who dream of a big white wedding.
No, my dreams are rather different—like making my interior design business the most successful subsidiary of Beckett Enterprises.
My brothers and I each run our own company under the Beckett umbrella. When I initially approached them aboutmy intention to start an interior design company, they laughed—before quickly covering it with multiple coughs—when they realised I was serious.
They assumed there was minimal profit in that line of business. That the market was already flooded with “arty hipsters”—their words, not mine.
But they were wrong.
I’ve proved it exponentially over the past eighteen months, landing multi-million euro contracts for multiple celebrity homes, restaurants, and even the Varmont, one of Dublin’s oldest and most prestigious castles.
And I’m only getting warmed up.
I love my brothers. I’d kill for them. Die for them even, but I’m beyond sick of being babied by them. By the time I’m done, I’m going to outearn all of them combined, then we’ll see who has the last laugh.
As a perpetual overachiever, I flew through private school a year early, strutted straight into Dublin’s top design college–before most people my age had even picked their courses, and graduated two years later–top of my class–with a distinction. By the time I wrapped up my final semester, I’d already prepared a full proposal for Beckett Deluxe Design and presented it formally to the Board. An impeccable pitch deck and a seven-figure revenue projection shut them up spectacularly. The second they signed off on it, I launched my business with a head full of ideas and absolutely no intention of playing small. Now, I’m designing luxury Beckett-level opulent aesthetic that everyone suddenly wants a slice of.
‘Avery will be stunning, whatever she wears.’ Livvie drags me back into the moment. ‘Christmas weddings are always so magical. It’s so exciting!’ she squeals, motioning for the barman to get us another round.
Oh god. I’m going to have to listen to this for the entireyear. I better at least try and get her an invite, or I’ll be listening to worse for a lot longer.
I glance around the lavish décor as the smartly dressed server prepares our drinks. Envy is one of about thirty bars and nightclubs my brother Rian owns. Until recently, he could nearly always be found drinking and partying in one of them. No danger of bumping into him here tonight though. Not now that he’s finally snagged Rebekka Remington, the woman of his dreams, and his former best friend’s wife.
It’s a long story.
But one that thankfully, ended happily—for them at least. I’m certain he’ll lock things down with a ring of his own soon enough. He’s been obsessed with Rebekka for years. And then there will be another big Beckett wedding for Livvie to obsess over.
The server returns, placing our cocktails on the counter in front of us. I don’t even offer to pay. My brother has never once allowed me to buy a drink in any of his bars. While I find it a little bit patronising, my friend has no such qualms.
‘I wish you could come with me tomorrow.’ I sigh, reaching for her hand, smoothing my fingers over the back of it. ‘Are you sure you can’t escape work—even for a week?’
Livvie is a trainee solicitor in Dublin’s most prestigious criminal law firm, which basically means the firm owns her soul—and her sleep schedule.
