Page 11 of Release Me

‘At least no one can say we’re boring.’ I shrug. ‘Now… what’s the princess like in bed?’ I waggle my eyebrows and nudge his ribs with my elbow. Someone has to lighten the mood while we wait to get served.

His eyes widen. Jaw locks tight. A vein pumps furiously athis temple. ‘You did not just ask what I think you did, did you?’

Laughter rumbles in the back of my throat. He’s so easy to wind up. Tormenting my brothers about their wives is one of my favourite pastimes. Probably because I don’t have one of my own. ‘Is she a goer? Or does she lie back and think of England?’

His fist clenches at his side as his entire face turns three shades darker. ‘Do you have a fucking death wish, you?—’

Before he can finish, a high-pitched female voice screeches through the air, loud enough to be heard over the music. ‘Baby Beckett.’

Oh fuck.

Sean and I turn, my teasing momentarily forgotten. That’s when I spot them.

Fuck.

My three sisters-in-law are tucked into a booth beside the bar. Scarlett’s silver eyes are bright as they dart around her friends. Avery’s tossing her blonde hair around like she’s still on a catwalk. Ivy’s blue eyes are dancing as she raises her glass up to us.

And then there’s Rebekka.

The sight of her knocks the air straight out of my chest like I’ve been thumped.

She’s a fucking vision, leaning back, cheeks rosy, laughing at something Scarlett’s just said. Her hair is loose now, unlike that formal style she wore at the awards. My fingers burn to touch it. Touch her. For a second I can’t fucking breathe. Our eyes connect through the crowd. Surprise flashes through hers. Then heat. Then guilt. She looks away.

‘Baby Beckett!’ Avery hollers again, waving like she hasn’t seen me in years instead of days. Heads turn. I grit my teeth. That nickname sounds a million times worse because theolder, sophisticated woman I’m obsessed with is sitting right next to the attention seeking blonde bombshell slurring it.

Sean follows my line of sight and groans. ‘Oh fuck.’

Empty martini glasses litter the table like casualties of war. ‘They’re drunk.’ I shake my head, striding over before one of them topples out of the booth.

‘Drunk?’ He tuts, right on my heels. ‘They’re fucking shit-faced.’

‘Fuck my life,’ I mutter, running a hand over my jaw.

‘You’re just in time,’ Scarlett slurs, pointing a manicured finger at me. ‘Your sister-in-law was about to order another round.’

‘Because you didn’t quite drink enough?’ I arch a brow.

‘Who are you? My husband?’ Scarlett hiccups. ‘Haven’t you got a date tonight?’

Rebekka flinches like she’s been stung. I frown, unable to process before Ivy pipes up again.

‘Don’t look at us like that,’ Ivy giggles. ‘You’re not the boss of us.’

‘Technically…’ I lean on the table, lowering my voice, ‘I am the boss of this place.’

Four pairs of eyes widen. Rebekka’s are hazy, unfocused.

‘You bought Elixir?’ Scarlett blurts.

I shrug. ‘Signed the paperwork yesterday.’ My hands vibrate with the need to touch Rebekka. I shove them in my trouser pockets instead.

Avery whistles. ‘Way to go. I’m impressed.’

‘Baby Beckett’s a big boy now,’ Scarlett teases.

I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t make me prove it.’

‘Go on, I dare you. Give us a flash. Let’s see if it’s as big as your brother’s.’ Ivy cackles as she pretends to reach for my belt.