Page 3 of Release Me
‘Why do I get the feeling you could…’
She holds up a hand. ‘Don’t finish that sentence.’ A full-blown grin splits open her lips, and her jade eyes glitter.
Mission complete.
‘Why not?’ I inch closer, unable to help myself. Suddenly we’re toe to toe. Hip to hip. My body vibrates with the need to touch her. To taste her. To kiss her.
She sucks in a ragged breath and jolts back like she’s been burned. Crimson stains appear on both her cheeks. ‘Because you’ll get us both in trouble.’ Her focus falls to the floor.
‘Trouble is underrated.’ I step forward, closing the distance between us again, and reach for her chin. Placing a finger beneath it, I gently tip it up until our eyes lock again. Heat scalds my skin. She feels it too. I know she does. Desire oozes from her every pore, the same way it oozes from mine.I’ve never experienced such a raw, visceral, primal attraction to a woman before. I came here in search of a smoke—what I got was an inferno.
‘Not when I’m here for the wedding.’ She winces.
‘You’re here with the bride.’ It’s not a question. With that accent, it’s the only explanation.
She squeezes her eyes tightly shut, then blinks them open again. ‘Iamthe bride.’
Fuck.
Chapter One
REBEKKA
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I pace the penthouse apartment that I’ve lived in for the past three years—though never once has it felt like home. My Jimmy Choos click over the cold marble flooring, the sound echoing off the walls like a war drum. My husband is late—again.
Therewillbe war if Anthony lets me down.
Tonight is a big night for me, and he knows it.
The Irish Literary Awards are the pinnacle of the cultural calendar, and this year Remington Publishing is not only the main sponsor—we’re the host. Months of planning, endless meetings, and sleepless nights have led to this evening. I’ve rewritten my speech five times, agonised over every detail, and even had a custom made gown flown in from New York. All I need now is for my husband to show up, stand by my side, and play the part of the devoted De Courcy heir, the same way I’ve stood by him so many times and played the part of devoted wife—even if the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.
My marriage is a shambles. My father’s gambling debts were the beginning of the end. Decades of Remingtonprestige undone by one man’s weakness. Investors fled, creditors circled, and our family name was dragged to the brink of ruin. The De Courcy bank swooped in like saviours, with polished smiles and promises of rescue.
But the price of salvation wasn’t just money.
It was me.
Marriage to Anthony bound me to Dublin, where I was handed the shiny title of CEO of Remington Publishing Ireland. I love my job. Love the business I’ve built. It’s my baby.
It’s just a shame I had to trade my freedom, my sanity—and my very soul to keep it.
I glance at the Rolex Oyster clock on the wall—another one of Anthony’s prized possessions—just like me. He takes me out every once in a while. Plays with me occasionally—for his pleasure—never mine, then when he gets bored, he acquires another shiny possession.
He’s had numerous affairs throughout our marriage. The first few stung, not because I expected him to be faithful—our marriage was born out of duty rather than love, but I expected him to at least try to attempt to hide them from me.
In the beginning, I had hoped we might grow to love each other, or at least co-exist respectfully. But while having a wife from a prestigious family looks great on paper, my husband resents me. Resents being forced into this marriage as I was, and every so often, he likes to remind me of that.
Usually on nights like this.
Bastard.
I grab my sequinned clutch from the mahogany sideboard and march towards the front door in search of Patrick, my driver. I yank the handle down and pull the door open to find Anthony standing in front of it with his key poised mid-air.
‘Nice of you to make an appearance.’ I roll my eyesskyward, spotting the lipstick mark on his collar in the process. Whenever things are going well for me professionally, he tends to punish me personally. I have no idea how I’m going to endure a lifetime of this, but in our circles, people don’t get divorced. And to make sure of it, my shrewd mother-in-law included a clause in our prenup.
Even without the clauses, I’m not stupid enough to think he would ever grant me a divorce. He wouldn’t give me one out of spite. Like I said, I’m a possession to him.
‘I got tied up at work.’ His smirk infers he means literally.
