It was the right thing to do.
Yet, somewhere deep inside of me, a niggling voice disagrees with me.
Too late.
It’s done now.
The double doors swing open, and Livvie strides in. She’s fashionably late as always, looking fabulous in a fitted black power suit and an ivory silk blouse that’s cut low enough to render her outfit sexy rather than sensible.
Her face lights up as she spots me sitting at the private booth reserved strictly for Becketts. The bar isn’t busy. Not yet. Give it another few hours, and the place will be thronged, the same way it is every Friday night. I plan to be at home by then, tucked up in my queen-sized bed with a cup of Camomile tea and my Kindle.
Rock ’n’ roll, right?
I’m still jet lagged from my holiday, and work has been relentless all week, starting with a model going nuclear when her Italian marble countertops arrived two shades too warm. Then, a restaurant owner had a tantrum worse than a two-year-old because the head chef decided the lighting was off. And to top it off, Caelon is demanding I drop everything else to redesign the Beckett Bliss lobby, so it doesn’t get eclipsed by the shiny new Hartmann Hotel rising across the square.
Which would be fine—if I hadn’t already accepted Hartmann’s private contract. The Yank agreed to wait for me. A fact that now sits in my stomach like a brick.
‘You are positively glowing,’ Livvie cries, inspecting me from head to toe.
I stand to greet her, and she throws her arms around me. I hug her hard against my chest, then release her. ‘You need an eye test, my friend.’
She slips into the booth opposite me, and I pour her a glass of champagne from the bottle in the centre of the table. Beckett’s Black Label, naturally.
‘Seriously, Zara.’ She accepts the glass I hand her. ‘Sunshine and copious amounts of sex clearly agree with you!’
‘Zara Beckett.’ Avery appears out of nowhere, flanked by Ivy, Caelon’s wife, Layla, Sean’s fiancée and Rebekka, Rian’s girlfriend. ‘Having sex! With who? Tell us everything!’ Avery slides into the booth beside me without waiting for an invitation. She rubs her hands together gleefully, as her bright blue irises dance.
‘Me and my big mouth.’ Livvie’s fingers clamp over her lips as Ivy, Layla and Rebekka all sink into the plush booth, motioning for a server to bring over another bottle and more glasses.
‘I’ll have a Beckett’s Gold, please,’ Ivy tells the server. My sister-in-law is one of the most feminine women I know untilit comes to drinking alcohol—she sinks whiskey better than any man I’ve ever met.
‘So, who is he?’ Avery persists. ‘Do we know him?’
‘Have you been shagging the staff?’ Ivy’s eyes flick to Tate, who stands five feet away with a stoic expression on his face. He’s flanked by Felstead, another stern faced employee of Killian’s. Thank God Jack O’Connor didn’t escape until after I landed in the Dominican because if I’d had to endure Felstead escorting me as well, I’d have had an entirely different vacation. Felstead is a stickler for the rules. He’s so far up Killian’s ass there’s no way I’d get to dine with a man, let alone dine on one’s dick.
‘No.’ I shake my head vehemently.
Rebekka arches forward over the table. ‘Well, who then? Some tall dark, stranger?’
‘A tall blond stranger!’ Livvie’s mouth fires off again, despite the fingers over it. ‘Sorry, it’s just the most exciting thing to happen to you since you landed the Varmont Castle contract!’
‘A holiday fling?’ Avery squeals. ‘We need all the dirty details.’ Her head whips round as she scans the bar, eyeing their bodyguards. They’re spread out around the premises. There are men positioned at every entrance and exit—basically out of earshot. Can’t have my holiday rendezvous getting back to Killian.
‘Ahh, give her a break,’ Layla pleads on my behalf. ‘We’re all entitled to our secrets.’
I flash her a grateful smile. See, this is exactly why she’s my favourite. She gets what it’s like to have an intense family.
‘Where’s Scarlett?’ I ask, deliberately changing the subject.
‘At home with James and the kids.’ A frown creases Avery’s forehead as she fills the champagne flutes and hands them out. ‘Naturally, she’s nervous. We all are. Which is whywe need you to distract us with all the dirty details of your hot and heavy holiday fling.’
I sigh. There’s no point in fighting it. They’ll wear me down eventually. ‘Don’t even think about breathing a word of this to my brothers.’ I meet five sets of eager eyes in turn.
‘Pah.’ Ivy swats her hand in front of her face. ‘As if we would. Us girls have got to stick together.’
‘Absolutely,’ Avery agrees, nodding fervidly.
Rebekka takes a sip of champagne and draws a cross over her heart.
