Page 105 of Release Me
‘She was shocked at first, but what could she say? Her son is deranged. She had no idea how deranged until she saw the footage. It wouldn’t convince any woman to stay in a marriage, even without all of the cheating.’
‘I’ll reach out to her in a few weeks, when the dust settles. If it ever settles.’ I shrug.
‘Of course it’ll settle, sweetheart. Now we’ve bought Remington, the De Courcy leverage is gone. Anthony can’t touch you. Living is a better punishment than death—especially when he sees how happy I’m going to make you.’
I breathe out. The tension that’s lived under my ribs all week loosens a notch. I rest my head in the hollow of his throat knowing for the first time in a very long time that whatever storms come, we have each other.
Rian slides a strand of hair away from my face and kisses the corner of my mouth. ‘You filed today, didn’t you?’ he asks casually, as if we’re talking about napkins.
I nod. ‘The divorce is in motion. I’ll push it harder now I know he’s still breathing.’
I glance down at my empty left hand.
Rian follows my gaze and chuckles. ‘Don’t get used to being without a ring on that finger, Bekka. If I have my way, you’ll be wearing another one really soon.’
I snort. ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself, Mr Beckett.’
‘Am I?’ He tilts his head, eyes bright. ‘I like getting ahead—almost as much as I like giving head.’
He reaches for the bottle of champagne, fills the two glasses beside the bucket, then hands one to me. The charms on my bracelet chime like a tune; my new book charm gleams beneath the low lighting. As promised, Killian returned it to me, along with my collection of first editions, and the rest ofmy stuff. ‘Taste that.’ Rian’s eyes twinkle with devilment. ‘While I taste you.’
He’s on his knees on the floor in front of me before I can even clink my glass against his.
‘How is this my life?’ I ask him as he lifts up my dress and buries his face between my legs.
‘Because you’re my everything,’ he mutters, pulling my lingerie to the side and sweeping his tongue over my centre.
‘Fuck.’ My back arches.
‘Yes.’ He pauses for a second. ‘We’re going to do that too.’
‘I love you, Mr Beckett.’ I run my hands through his hair as my head rolls back against the couch, surrendering to the pleasure he’s providing with that exceptionally talented tongue.
‘I love you more,’ he murmurs. ‘I have done for three years, thirteen weeks, and one day.’
Something huge and simple blooms in my chest.
Gratitude.
Awe.
Love—fierce and ridiculous and true.
EPILOGUE
Rebekka
Three months later.
The world knows the truth now.
The truth about me.
About Anthony.
About us.
The De Courcy marriage disintegrated in the public eye. I braced myself for the backlash. I expected a witch hunt.
