I hang up, finish the whiskey, and stare into the glass as if it might give me answers.
Today, my entire world shifted.
Tomorrow?
I start reclaiming what’s mine.
Chapter Thirty-Two
ZARA
I ask Tate and Felstead to take me straight home instead of back to the office. Nico is vibrating with the need for answers from the back of the SUV, but he’ll have to wait. Felstead cannot know about this. So instead, we sit in stilted silence in bumper-to-bumper Dublin city traffic.
‘Can I see the photos?’ Nico asks, stretching his hand to the front to reach for the iPad.
Oh fuck.
I squeeze my eyelids shut tightly. I was so distracted with Cole, I forgot to take a single picture. He’s only been back in my life an hour and he’s wreaking chaos—on my brain, on my body and on my plans for raising this baby.
‘I’ll show you them in the apartment,’ I lie.
‘Shouldn’t we go back to the office? Savannah Kingsley’s samples are in. I could pop over to her place with them once you’ve given me the lowdown on… C—the casino.’ Nico recovers quickly.
‘No, let one of the others go.’ I employ a team of eight other designers. Any one of them can deal with that. I needNico in his therapist role this afternoon. I pull my phone from my bag and text Livvie.
SOS. My place. Bring carbs. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
Three tiny dots appear.
You’re in luck. My case just got thrown out of court. Be there in twenty minutes.
Finally, we reach my apartment building. Tate opens the SUV door for me, leaving Felstead to park in the underground garage. Nico and I move through the revolving doors, with Tate scanning the lobby like Jack O’Connor himself might jump out. This is beyond ridiculous now.
The daytime concierge spots us and straightens immediately, a wide smile stretching his face. ‘Afternoon, Ms Beckett.’
No one has asked me about my bump. No one would dare. Thankfully, the media haven’t got hold of it. Or if they have, my family paid a hefty sum to squash the story. But it’s the elephant in the room everywhere I go—who knocked up Zara Beckett?
Though, if Cole gets his way, I’m pretty sure he’ll make sure no one is left in any doubt of who my baby daddy is. Him and his mad notions of us being a family.
I mean, I’m not entirely averse to the idea. The attraction between us was as powerful as it was in Punta Cana. And with him adamant about sticking around, there’s no reason not to give him a chance.
The only problem is it will cost me my actual family in the process.
‘Good afternoon,’ I murmur, forcing a faint smile, though I’m not sure if it is. My brain is still a scrambled mess.
My baby daddy is one of America’s most successful billionaires—and Becketts’ number one enemy—after the O’Connors, of course.
How am I ever going to tell them the truth?
Why does my life suddenly feel like a soap opera? A bad one at that.
We cross the marble to the private lifts. Tate positions himself slightly behind me as the lift pings, and the doors slide open.
Rian and Rebekka step out, fingers entwined, cheeks flushed, and a guilty expression on both of their faces. I’d bet my life these two snuck home for a quick shag during work hours.
Rebekka sold her company to Rian last year in order to stop her first husband from getting his grubby hands on it. When it came time to sell it back, Rebekka asked if Remington Publishing could remain under Beckett Enterprises, and now they run it together, along with Rian’s exclusive chain of nightclubs and bars.
‘Zara, how are you feeling?’ Rian immediately rushes out to greet me with a kiss on each cheek before inspecting me from head to toe. ‘How’s my little niece or nephew doing in there?’ His dark eyes drift to my bump.
