Page 81 of Redeem Me

‘Yes, sir, absolutely. Is that all?’

‘No, that’s not all.’ I step into the glass lift and stare at the beach below. ‘Looks like I’m going to be stuck here for another few days. Ask Liz to pack a bag for the kids. Book the jet. I want them here tonight.’

‘And Ivy, sir?’

‘I want her too.’

Chapter Thirty-Five

IVY

I’ve never been on a private jet before. I certainly didn’t expect to be on Caelon Beckett’s jet, yet here I am, sipping champagne, with Orla and Owen watching Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour on a sixty-inch cinema screen.

The flight to Faro takes a little over two hours. We breeze through security, the scent of summer lingering in the air. Caelon, with Damon at his side, is waiting for us in arrivals. He looks absolutely devastating in a crisp white shirt that complements his olive skin. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal tanned forearms covered with masculine veins that look like a map to my own personal treasure. His inky hair is slightly tousled as if he’s been raking his fingers through it in frustration. Dark, dubious eyes light up as he spots us.

‘Daddy!’ Owen and Orla scream, running to him. It’s a battle not to do the same. He’s only been gone a few days, but it feels like an eternity. I’ve been missing him more than I have any right to. I have no idea where this thing between us is going. The only thing I do know is that my stomach flips uncontrollably every time his name appears on my phone.

Caelon lifts his kids up, one in each arm, kisses theirforeheads tenderly, and squeezes them to his chest. My ovaries sing like a pair of sopranos.

Caelon’s eyes lock on mine, rake over my face, then linger on my lips for a beat before dropping to my chest. He lifts an eyebrow, and I bite back my smirk. I deliberately chose a short white summer dress. One that’s light and airy, and so low at the back, it’s impossible to wear a bra.

‘Ivy.’ He places the kids on the ground and gives me his full attention. Damon watches on with a neutral expression, but a hint of curiosity lights his eyes. I’m guessing Caelon hasn’t flown too many other women out to meet him on his business trips.

I expect Caelon to be cold, reserved and professional in front of Damon, but he stalks towards me and presses a tender kiss on my cheek. His lips sear my skin. The gesture is so chaste compared to what we’ve done, but it sets my soul alight.

‘Welcome to Portugal,’ he murmurs into my ear, and I get a lungful of his woodsy, masculine scent.

He takes Owen’s hand and slips the other on the base of my back, guiding us out of the airport and into the bright Portuguese sunshine. Heat shoots up my spine, but it has nothing to do with the climate. Orla falls into step beside me, chattering about the flight, the sunset, the sweets the air stewardess gave her, and Roxy, who Liz and Samuel have promised to take care of.

All I can focus on is Caelon’s palm. Specifically, the tremors it’s sending through my body.

Throughout the forty-minute drive, Orla and Owen ask a million questions about Caelon’s week, about the size of the hotel pool, and if they can buy a dolphin while they’re here.

Caelon answers with the patience of a man who has genuinely missed his children, though the primal glances he keeps tossing at my tits are anything but patient. I swear, ifthe kids weren’t here, he’d have them in his mouth by now. I don’t even think Damon’s presence would stop him.

We pass a gigantic billboard for a waterpark and the kids press their noses against the glass in their desperation for a closer look. Taking full advantage of their distraction, Caelon leans across and traces his tongue over my lips in a slow, seductive gesture. I glance at Damon in the driver’s seat, my eyes widening.

‘You are in so much trouble,’ Caelon murmurs in my ear.

‘The dog?’ I knew he’d be mad, but I don’t regret my decision.

‘Not the dog. What did I tell you about those damn dresses?’ he growls, and my core clenches. When we finally reach the hotel, I’m not sure if I need a cold drink or a cold shower.

Damon drops us at the gleaming glass entrance. The front of the building comprises brilliant white marble, the name, Bliss, carved directly into the wall in a bold italic font with a gold leaf inlay that sparkles under the setting sun. “A Beckett Hotel” is written in a smaller font beneath it, and it hits me with a sudden clarity just how successful Caelon and his brothers are.

Caelon greets the immaculately dressed staff with a curt nod before ushering us through a bright, airy lobby and directly to a glass lift. ‘We’re in the penthouse. The porters will bring the bags up shortly,’ he tells us.

As we start our ascent, I soak in the panoramic views below; a crystal-clear infinity pool overlooking a stunning sandy beach, rugged cliffs, and azure-glittering water as far as the eye can see. I can’t believe I’m here. That this is real.

‘Can we swim in the pool, Daddy?’ Owen asks, pressing his hands and face against the glass.

‘Tomorrow, buddy. You’ve had a big day travelling.’ Caelon ruffles Owen’s hair. ‘It’s almost bedtime.’ The feral look he shoots me suggests I won’t be getting any sleep, though. Aburst of butterflies soar through my stomach as I clench my thighs together.

The penthouse is every bit as opulent as the rest of the hotel. A huge, open-plan living area with a wraparound terrace overlooks the sea. There are three bedrooms, each with their own enormous en suites, plus a master bathroom with a rainforest-type shower with mood lighting and a million different settings.

‘And you call this work?’ I tease Caelon as he gives us the tour.

He lets out a long, slow breath. ‘Don’t get me started on work. It’s been a shitshow this week. One complication after another. I’ve got planning problems, and permits and paperwork coming out of my ears.’

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