Page 85 of Release Me

‘Get that.’ He motions. ‘Or I will.’

I reach for the phone slowly, staring at the screen for a few seconds before finally swiping to answer. ‘Yes?’ I snap.

‘Where the fuck are you?’ Anthony’s voice booms in my ear. I press the volume button down to the lowest it’ll go.

‘Out.’ I roll my eyes at Rian. His darken to a dangerous shade of ebony.

‘So I see. The concierge said you haven’t been home since Friday.’ His tone is weighted with an unspoken accusation. The urge to laugh at his audacity bubbles in my chest, though really, there’s nothing funny about any of this.

‘Well, if you’re only hearing about this now, then neither did you,’ I point out.

‘Don’t play games with me, Rebekka. Where the fuck are you?’ He growls. I hear thudding, like he’s pacing the penthouse.

‘I told you, I’m out.’

‘With who?’

‘One of the Becketts.’ My eyes meet Rian’s, and he nods approvingly.

‘Which one?’ His voice drops, like he’s worried whichever Beckett I’m with might overhear him. That ship sailed long ago.

‘Doesn’t matter.’ I lift my drink to my lips and sip it leisurely, enjoying my husband’s obvious discomfort.

‘They’remyfriends.’ He huffs.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’ My eyes rake over the man opposite me. He’s everything my husband isn’t. Everything I want. Everything I need. Everything I can’t have unless I give up everything I’ve worked for. ‘How’s Sarah? Did she enjoy the opening the other night?’ I ask sarcastically.

‘It’s Sorcha,’ he raises his voice again. ‘And we were meeting clients.’

‘Course you were, buddy.’ With Rian opposite me, I feel like I could take on the world. His unwavering strength gives me strength.

‘Come home now. I insist.’ His voice is as cold as his heart.

‘Insist until you’re blue in the face, asshole.’ God, it feels so fucking good to finally stand up to him. ‘I won’t be home anytime soon. In fact. I may never come home.’

‘You’ll have to come home at some point, Rebekka. And when you do, God fucking help you. I own you. Don’t ever fucking forget it.’ He disconnects the call, and a shiver of apprehension rattles down my spine.

‘What a wanker.’ Rian’s hand is shaking. His expression is positively livid. ‘I’ve a good mind to drive to the penthouse right now and rip his fucking head off for talking to you like that.’

‘Don’t,’ I beg. ‘He’s not worth it.’

‘Did you ever love him?’ he asks quietly.

I sigh. ‘I tried to.’ I blow out a breath. ‘But no, I didn’t.’

‘He wasn’t always like this.’ Rian lifts his glass to his lips and drinks. ‘He got progressively more arrogant throughoutour teenage years. I don’t even recognise him as the boy I grew up with. I heard his threats. Do you think he’d actually hurt you?’

I pause for a minute, contemplating. ‘I’m immune to any pain he tries to inflict on me now.’ I swallow.

‘What did he mean, I own you?’ Rian seethes.

‘He was referring to the clause in the marriage contract that his family drew up. If I ever divorce him, he gets to keep Remington Publishing Ireland. It’s worth five times what his family invested in it, and I’ve paid them back what they invested in the New York division twice over.’

‘Shit.’ Rian shakes his head again. ‘And what ifhedivorcesyou?’

‘Then I get his shares in the bank. Marianne De Courcy was shrewd. She doesn’t believe in divorce, so she made sure it wasn’t an option. For either of us.’

‘There has to be a way around it,’ Rian muses.