Page 104 of Release Me
‘Killian will get it for you. They’ll get everything.’ I pause, hardly daring to ask, but needing to know. ‘Did he…’
‘No.’ She shakes her head.
Thank fuck.
Callaghan slides into the driver’s seat. ‘Where to, sir?’
‘Home,’ I say, glancing at my smashed up Porsche by the side of the road. Thank fuck that was the only damage. If anything had happened to Rebekka, I’d never forgive myself.
The engine starts. The city blurs behind us. I keep my hand on her knee the whole way, silently trying to reassure her.
I’ve got her.
I’ll always have her.
Nothing will ever happen to her again.
Not on my watch.
Chapter Forty-Seven
REBEKKA
It’s been seven days since the worst day of my life.
Seven days since the door exploded and Rian saved me, not for the first time, from the monster I married.
We’re in Rian’s penthouse. Our penthouse—I suppose. The curtains are open. Dublin city is a scatter of gold below us. The stretch in the evening invites optimism and warmth for what’s to come.
A candle burns on the mantlepiece, the scent of pomegranate floats through the air. Champagne sweats in an ice bucket on the coffee table beside the couch where we’re sitting. Soft music floats from the sound system. Rian is doing his best to stitch our life back to some sort of normality.
He’s behind me on the couch, knees hooked either side of mine as his hands reach round working slow magic on my feet. His patient thumbs rub all the right spots. I close my eyes and let the pressure melt me.
The bruise on my cheek has faded. The shock of how close I came to falling prey to Anthony’s violent advances isslowly receding into memory. Every stroke of Rian’s hands reassures me I’m safe. I’m at home.
‘Is there any end to your talents?’ I murmur, curling my toes. I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling his eyes on me. The little things feel enormous now.
His lips brush over my ear like he’s whispering a prayer. ‘No,’ I can hear his smile. ‘Want me to prove it?’
We’ve made love every day and every night since he saved me. At first, he was reluctant. But I needed it. Needed him to remind me how it felt to have a man on my body in a way that wasn’t ownership or punishment, but tenderness. To rewrite the memory Anthony tried to stamp on my skin.
I refuse to let that bastard ruin what Rian and I have.
‘What happened to him?’ I ask the question that sits like a stone behind my ribs.
Rian’s hands pause on my feet. I twist my head to look at him. He frowns, then sighs, and resumes massaging.
‘He’s in hospital,’ he says. ‘Broken ribs, concussion, a few cracked teeth. He’ll look a mess for a while.’ He gives a short, humourless laugh. ‘He’s not dead. Not even close. But he won’t be able to stand in public without people asking why he looks like he lost a fight with a lawnmower.’
My stomach drops and somehow lifts at the same time.
Relief isn’t a clean thing.
‘I was worried they’d—’ I start.
‘Killed him?’ Rian finishes my sentence for me. His voice is low. ‘No. The point was to make sure he can’t use his mouth or his footage as a weapon. Killian found the home movie he was trying to make.’ Disgust rolls from him. ‘His team copied everything and secured it, and sent it to his parents. The De Courcys are disgusted with him. Marianne sends her regards. She said she wishes you the best. She’s not ready to see us together, but I had a full and frank conversationwith her, and I made it exceptionally clear that I am going to marry you.’
‘How did she take it?’
