Page 111 of Wreck Me

She launches herself into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and peppering kisses all across my jaw.

She’s dripping wet, and not in the way I like her to be. ‘You know I’m usually all about your wet pussy grinding against me, sweetheart, but this is taking things to another level.’

‘Sorry!’ she slides down my body, leaving half the swimming pool contents after her.

‘Don’t be.’ I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too. I’m so glad it’s over.’

‘Me too. Now we can start a new beginning.’ My gaze falls to the diamond on her finger and a sublime sense of satisfaction rolls through my stomach. ‘Have fun with your friend. I’m going to get ready for tonight.’

The Shelbourne is one of Dublin’s most exclusive hotels. It’s elegant, timeless, and sophisticated.

It’s the perfect place to introduce my future wife to the world.

Hopefully, the lavishness of tonight’s ball will overshadow speculation about Scarlett’s past and her identity as a former pole dancer.

Her association with the O’Connors should remain hearsay, if that, thanks to the efforts that were made to maintain her anonymity after the court case against Jack, not to mention the fictional past Killian has constructed for her and dripped liberally around the internet. If anyone from her past attempts to sell a story about her true identity to the press, I will be notified. I’ve made certain of it.

I have no idea what the Board will make of my engagement, but I don’t really give a flying fuck what Julian Jones, or the investors, think about my relationship status.

Honestly, deep down, a small part of me actually wants to be fired.

At least then I’ll have the freedom to show Scarlett theworld without the pressure of having to rush back to work between each trip. And I’ve made enough shrewd investments not to have to work another day in my life.

‘Are you ready?’ I turn to Scarlett as Tim opens the car door for us.

‘As I’ll ever be.’ Her teeth dig into her lower lip nervously.

‘Don’t.’ I brush my thumb over her mouth. ‘If anyone’s going to ruin your lipstick tonight, it’ll be me.’

‘Promises, promises.’ Her crimson lips lift and her eyes flash with desire as she slips her dainty hand into mine.

‘You look beautiful.’ My eyes rove over the ivory silk clinging to her curves in all the right places. It nips in at her waist before sensually kicking out over her hips in layers that extend to just below her knees. Her shapely calves are accentuated by rose gold satin heels and tiny straps that fasten round her ankles.

‘Have you got any panties on underneath there?’ I ask as I help her out of the car when we arrive at the Shelborne .

‘If you’re good, I might let you find out later,’ she quips. Tim barks out a laugh, which he masks as a cough.

Killian’s men flank the hotel, replacing the usual doormen. They usher us into an opulent hallway. Scarlett halts beneath an elaborate chandelier, and inhales a large breath.

‘Don’t be nervous. My family is your family now.’ I place a hand on the base of her spine and she inclines into my side like she’s seeking protection.

Unbelievable.

The woman can stand in a courtroom and testify against one of the country’s most notorious criminals, yet she shies away from a Beckett family ball. ‘Come on, I’ve got you.’

We follow the sound of brass and woodwind instruments to the ballroom. Trust my mother to have booked big band jazz. She loves to dance. At least that’s something she and Scarlett have in common.

The ballroom is packed. The tables are arranged at the far end of the room to allow space for a full-sized dancefloor. The place is decked out like it’s for a wedding. There’s not a helium balloon in sight, but there are enough fresh flowers to fill a football field.

Three of the most respectable journalists I know hover at the back of the room with their cameras and microphones at the ready.

Every head turns as Scarlett and I stroll in, fashionably late.

My mother is the first to greet us, pulling us both into her bosom. ‘Finally!’ She arches back, her eyes darting between us. ‘I saw the news. Congratulations on the acquisition. Who would have thought we’d have a winery in the family?’ Given the glassy look in her eyes, my mother looks as though she’s spent the afternoon in a winery.

‘Happy birthday, Dad.’ I extend my hand. He hesitates for a split second before taking it in his own, his pupils darting between Scarlett and me.

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