Page 53 of Wreck Me

The walls are closing in.

There’s no air.

Dread crushes my chest.

James’s thumb slows to a stop on my leg, and he inclines his body in front of mine protectively, almost as if he knows. But he can’t. How could he?

‘Scarlett, I need you to go home with Tim now.’ It’s not a request. He stands in front of me, sheltering me, blocking me from sight.

I don’t need to be told twice.

Keeping my back to Declan, I nod.

Tim appears out of nowhere.

James presses a kiss to my temple and there’s nothing fake about it. ‘I’ll see you at home, okay?’

Home.

His mansion.

It might be his home, but it’ll never be mine.

Seeing Declan again reminds me why I can’t let James, or any other man, get close to me. It’s not safe to form attachments.

I need to stay away from James Beckett, and every other man in this city, focus on graduation, then get the hell out of Dublin. Get the hell out of here, out of this life.

Before I suffer the same fate as my mother.

Chapter Twenty-Six

JAMES

‘Where are Zara and Isabella?’ I growl at Caelon.

‘Gone.’ Caelon straightens himself in the seat next to me. ‘They had too much to drink. Mother stumbled across them coming out of the toilet and made them get a ride home with her and Pete.’

Pete is one of Killian’s top security guys, which is why he’s assigned as our mother’s driver. My shoulders relax slightly. If the shit hits the fan with the O'Connors tonight, I don’t want any of my women anywhere near it.

‘Can you believe the fucking cheek of it?’ Caelon shakes his head in disgust. ‘Not only to threaten us earlier, but to gatecrash Rian’s big night.’

‘I think we’re supposed to be intimidated.’ Rage ripples beneath my skin.

‘Where are the rest of them?’ Killian glances around the room looking for Declan’s brothers.

‘That’s the million-dollar question.’ They’d be foolish to instigate trouble publicly, but the O'Connors aren’t the smartest of families.

Killian fires off a quick text, no doubt alerting the club'snew security team, all vetted and hired by his firm. Within seconds, the doors are flanked by a team of his men, literally dressed to kill with concealed weapons hidden beneath their black tuxedos.

The music continues to blare and the dancefloor remains packed, partygoers utterly oblivious to the chaos that’s seconds from breaking out, depending on how the O'Connors decide to play this. I pin Declan with an icy stare as I take a sip of whiskey. Beckett’s Gold, of course.

Killian flanks my right. Sean to the left, while Caelon and Rian pull their stools in closer to form a tight circle. Even without the extra security, we could probably handle the O'Connors, but I’d prefer to avoid another public scandal with the Board breathing down my neck.

Eventually, after what seems like hours but is only a couple of minutes, Declan’s cold, blue eyes find us. A slow, cruel grin reveals a flash of teeth. Of all the O'Connor brothers, Declan is notoriously the most dangerous. Quick to act. Slow to think. He operates with the brutality of a nineteen-fifties gangster but with the IQ of a gnat.

I offer him a languid smile, like his presence here was expected, welcome even.

He strides across the room to the VIP area, lifts the red rope and ducks into our space like we’re old friends, not rivals.

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