Page 102 of Wreck Me

I glance at Scarlett who is poring over the final figures for the Imperial Winery Group acquisition. Her lips purse and vulnerability flickers across her face. ‘Chantel, grab an early lunch and take Scarlett with you.’

Chantel beams. ‘Sure.’

‘Go to Azure. Put it on the company credit card. Take your time and don’t rush back.’ My father is neither quick to anger, nor is he quick to calm. It was only a matter of time before he found out what happened in Provence. No doubt he’s about to bollock me for not telling him, but I didn’t want to give him another heart attack.

‘Azure? Seriously?’ Chantel claps her hands together. ‘An early birthday present?’

‘No, just my treat.’ I send flowers every year, but with all that she does for me, she deserves a hell of a lot more.

Scarlett closes a file on the desk and stands. ‘You sure you don’t want me to stay?’

‘I can deal with my father, but take the stairs. I don’t want you running into him.’ He’s still not sold on the idea of me dating a former pole dancer, so I’m pretty certain he won’t be thrilled that she’s now working for me. He’ll get used to it, in time. He’ll have to. But if he’s already stressed about the O’Connors, I don’t want to poke an angry bear.

Chantel beckons Scarlett towards the door, not even attempting to hide her glee at this sudden turn of events. ‘Lunch in Dublin’s most exclusive restaurant awaits. It’s only right we wash it down with a fancy bottle of Gavi.’

Scarlett hesitates as she rounds the corner of my desk, like she’s debating whether to kiss me goodbye. I lurch forwards and press my lips to hers, to save her from making the decision.

‘Gross,’ Chantel mutters.

I tear my mouth from Scarlett’s. ‘Take Tim and two other security guys. Don’t go anywhere but Azure. I’ll come and find you when I’m done here.’

Scarlett nods and follows Chantel out of the office without further protest.

I tap my desk with my pen, listening as the lift doors ping open at the far end of the corridor. Thunderous marching feet approach and the office door swings open so hard, it bangs against the inside wall.

‘Come in, why don’t you?’ My sarcasm is lost on my father as he storms into my office. As usual, he’s wearing a smart, tailored suit, even though he’s supposed to be retired.

‘What the fuck are you thinking, son? Jack O’Connor’s fucking daughter. You are literally sleeping with the enemy! If her deranged brothers don’t kill you, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t stab you herself while you sleep!’ His face is a deep shade of violet, his features scrunched with disgust.

Fuck.

‘I can explain.’ I raise my hand, attempting to quell my father’s temper before the blood vessel throbbing in his head actually bursts.

‘You’d better have a good explanation,’ he booms incredulously, ‘because as far as I can see, there is no fucking explanation for this abomination! Bad enough that she’s a pole dancer, but for fuck’s sake, son, an O’Connor? Look at this.’ He points to the deep scar on his face. ‘Even if they weren’t our business rivals, you know they’re involved with the biggest organised crime syndicate in the country. They are dangerous fuckers. I heard what happened in Provence. Lucien Moreau called me and told me everything, how Declan turned up and had the gall to threaten my entire family.'

‘I’m dealing with it.’

‘And dropped the bombshell that that tart you’re supposedly dating is related to them.’ The vein in my father’s temple continues to pulse furiously.

‘She’s not a tart and she’s not an O’Connor.’ My gaze narrows. If he’d just stop ranting and listen for a second, I could explain.

‘I said find a suitable wife, not an unscrupulous one. This is yet another scandal, an abomination. And on top of all that, it’s a death wish.’ He bangs a fist on the desk. ‘End it. Now,’ he roars and stalks out of my office, slamming the door behind him.

I’ll do no such thing.

In fact, I’ll make sure the whole damn world knows Scarlett’s not an O’Connor.

And there’s only one way to do it. I grab my suit jacket from the back of the chair and set out towards Grafton Street.

I’m going to officially make her a Beckett.

Chapter Forty-Six

SCARLETT

It’s hard to pretend everything is normal when it feels like a ticking time bomb is perched beneath the balls of my feet. Seeing Declan again has dredged up a lot of long-buried emotions. I’m struggling to process. The thought of Jack O’Connor getting parole haunts my nights and plagues my days.

The only saving grace is the timing. In James’s office, I’m safe. He hasn’t let me out of his sight. When he’s not educating me on the financial aspects of the business, he’s educating me on all sorts of kinky desk sex.

---