‘I’ve never been in a heap in my life, dickhead.’ I tut and he sniggers.
‘Well, spit it fucking out, Romeo! What did she say? Is she as hot as you remember? Did you?—’
‘She’s pregnant,’ I cut in.
Silence follows.
‘Marcus?’
‘Pregnant?’
‘Eighteen weeks.’ My grip tightens on the glass. ‘The baby is mine.’
There’s another beat of stunned quiet before Marcus finds his voice again. ‘Well goddamn,’ he whistles softly. ‘Here I am, two years of fertility treatments, supplements, and acupuncture. And don’t get me started on that disgusting maca root bullshit that my wife keeps making me drink—and still nothing. And then you take one holiday fucking fling and wham bam—talk about super sperm,’ he snorts.
‘It’s not funny.’
‘It’s hilarious.’
Another beat. ‘Wait a minute.’ His tone shifts—softer, edged with something that sounds like suspicion. ‘You don’t think she did it on purpose? To trap you? You’re a billionaire, man. Women do crazy shit when hormones and bank accounts collide.’
‘She had no idea. If anything,’ I growl, swirling the Macallan, ‘I’m the one planning on trappingher.In my bed. In my life. She’s carrying my kid, Marcus. There’s no way she’s sneaking out on me again.’
He laughs—a sharp bark. ‘Jesus, Cole. You sound unhinged. This is how villains are born.’
‘I’m already the villain in her family’s story anyway,’ I shrug. ‘Might as well embrace it.’
‘What do you mean, you’re already the villain?’ His curiosity audibly peaks.
‘You’re not going to believe this.’ I shake my head. I’m still struggling to believe it. ‘My mystery woman is the one and only Zara Beckett.’
‘Fuck off,’ Marcus’s yell practically deafens me. ‘I don’t believe it. That is more fucked up than Romeo and Juliet.’
‘Yep,’ I reach for a top up of Macallan. ‘But I don’t plan on dying. I’ll kill if I have to, but I have no intention of meeting my maker just yet.’
My eyes fall to my desk. The Irish Times is still open in front of me. Four of the Beckett brothers stare back at me from the society pages. A picture of them suited and booted at an awards night takes up a full half a page. Zara looks like them, the same colouring and chiselled cheeks—except she’s stunning and they’re shitheads, of course.
‘Somebody should write this shit down. I swear, it’s better than a movie.’ Marcus’s disbelief hangs on his every word. ‘So what happened? Did she know it was you? Doesshe even like you? Or did you pounce on her the second she walked in?’
‘I employed her agency to design the casino and hotel interior. I had no idea who she was. We were both shocked, but she agreed to go on a date with me tomorrow.’
‘Of course she did. Fucking unbelievable.’
I stand, stride over to stare out the floor-to-ceiling window with my whiskey in hand. The Dublin skyline—the river, the cranes, the rising empire I’m building with my bare hands.
For the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel like a strategic plan.
It feels like a pull.
A direction.
A destiny.
‘I’m going to make this work,’ I say quietly.
Marcus breathes out a low sound—not quite a laugh, not quite disbelief. ‘You know what’s wild? I actually believe you. What about her brothers? They’re not going to be happy.’
‘Not my problem. My only concern is with her. And our baby.’
