‘It’ll be okay.’ I rub my thumb over the back of her hand, and she sighs.
The mansion comes into view as we crunch up the gravel driveway. ‘Is this where you grew up?’
‘Yes,’ the ghost of a smile touches her lips. ‘It’s magnificent, isn’t it?’ She sweeps a hand towards the left, where the property overlooks a thick woodland, then a private beach in the distance. There are stables to the right of the property, and what I’m assuming must be staff quarters.
I don’t answer, busy clocking every tiny detail.
We slow to a stop outside the front entrance. Several wide steps lead up to thick dark double doors, which open as soon as Zara gets out of the car. I hop out my side and round the vehicle. Tate and Gabriel flank us, followed by four other highly trained security staff.
Killian Beckett stands in the doorway with a grim expression on his face. ‘Good of you to join us.’ Sarcasm drips from his tone.
‘Zara needed to eat.’ I place a hand on the base of her spine as she mounts the steps.
‘Get your fucking hands off my sister,’ he snarls.
‘Killian,’ Zara snaps. ‘Cole and I are together. Get fucking used to it. We’ve all seen you pawing at Avery. Why should it be any different for my boyfriend to touch me?’
‘Boyfriend?’ Killian bites. His expression is positively murderous.
‘It’ll be fiancé, soon, if that makes you feel any better.’ I deadpan, stepping into the grand hallway. It’s twenty feet high, yet somehow still manages to feel homely. Family portraits line the wood-panelled walls, and the scent of roast chicken floats from somewhere.
Killian steps in front of us, squaring up to me. ‘Allow me to tell you what happened to the last Cole I knew. He went up against my family too. Sanctioned a hit on my sister-in-law.’ Killian murmurs in a low, dangerous tone. ‘I cut his fingers off, one by one. And his toes. He screamed like a littlefucking bitch when I removed his tiny excuse of a cock. Of course, that high pitched wailing finally stopped when I rammed it in his mouth, then buried him alive.’ He dusts an invisible piece of lint from his immaculate black suit.
‘Killian,’ Zara’s tone is weighted with warning.
Vivienne, Zara’s mother, emerges from a door to the left. She’s dressed in pastel slacks and a white chiffon blouse. While Zara shares her father’s dark colouring, like her brothers, her features are a carbon copy of the immaculately put-together woman in front of me. ‘Zara.’ Relief taints her tone. ‘Come in, please, let’s talk in the drawing room.’
Killian fires a filthy look to where my hand is still on his sister. He should have seen where it was last night. Asshole.
Vivienne Beckett eyes me from head to toe as we enter the drawing room. There are three tawny coloured Italian leather couches arranged around a large, low, glass-topped coffee table. Huge sash windows overlook the grounds and the sea on the horizon. The Becketts—all of them—are scattered around the room.
James, Caelon and Sean are congregated by the sideboard clutching whiskey glasses. Alexander Beckett is engrossed in a deep conversation with Rian, which I gather is about fatherhood given the way he claps him on the back. The Beckett women are clustered around Rebekka, poring over her scan picture, chatting in high-pitched aminated voices.
The entire room falls silent as we enter. Every head twists to take us in.
‘Zara.’ Rebekka rushes over to her, hugging her tightly.
Alexander Beckett eyes me coolly as he strides across the room. I take in his dark hair, peppered with grey, and the huge scar running the length of his cheek. His dark eyes glint as they flick between Zara and me. I bet he was a dangerous fucker back in his day.
And I knocked up his daughter.
‘Dad.’ Zara steps in front of me protectively. Cute—but entirely unnecessary. ‘This is Cole Hartmann, my boyfriend.’
I extend my hand. He looks at it for a long beat, then his black eyes flick up to mine. Finally, his fingers grip mine, tight enough to pinch, but I don’t flinch. ‘If you hurt my daughter, I’ll make this lot—’ he nods towards his sons—‘look fucking tame.’
‘Understood.’ I nod. ‘I’d do the same if anyone hurt my daughter.’
‘You’re having a girl?’ Vivienne Beckett squeals, rushing towards Zara and throwing her arms around her.
‘We are,’ Zara’s lips lift into a small grin.
A woman wearing a crisp white apron enters the room carrying a tray. An assortment of sweet delicacies and a pot of tea. I note there’s only one teacup. She places the tray on the coffee table and scurries out like she can sense the atmosphere.
‘Whiskey.’ Alexander eyes me levelly.
‘Please.’ I nod. Every eye in the room fixates on me. Finally, Sean moves towards a drinks cabinet adjacent to the large ornate fireplace. He picks up a crystal tumbler and pours a generous measure from a whiskey decanter. Becketts own brand, I bet.
At least I’ll have finally tried it if Killian does decide to put me in the ground today.
