Redeem Me (Beckett Brothers #2)

32. Caelon

Chapter Thirty-Two

CAELON

August

Dermot whistles as he scans the Luxor Lounge –or more specifically, as he scans the nearly naked dancers on the podiums. Rian might be a jumped-up asshole who hits on my partner, but he’s done a stellar job with the décor. Where this place was once all marble and chrome, it’s now rustic and masculine. Dark wooden panelling lines the walls, ceilings and floors. Rich, red leather circular booths are dotted around the room, and a dark mahogany circular-shaped bar dominates the centre of the space. It looks like what it is – a gentlemen’s club. Not a high-end knocking shop.

We’re sitting in a booth adjacent to the main stage, with a bottle of Beckett’s Gold on the table between us in a crystal Beckett decanter, a welcome present from Rian, who is busy welcoming his new members.

‘This is like being a kid with fistfuls of cash in a sweetshop, only better.’ Dermot wets his lips and strums a finger over his chin.

‘I never did have a sweet tooth,’ I mutter, taking a sip of whiskey .

‘Maybe you haven’t found the right candy yet.’ He shoots me a wink and I shake my head.

I’ve found the right candy, alright, but he’d rather knock my teeth out than let me have my fill of it.

‘What about her?’ He nods at a dancer on the main stage. She’s five-foot-nine with legs up to her armpits, and breasts that are too perfect to be anything but plastic. Her deep chocolate-coloured eyes are the same shade as her silky hair. Physically, she’s beautiful, but she elicits zero response from my cock.

There’s only one woman who can command its attention and she’s sprawled out on my couch sipping a whiskey, watching Love Island.

‘She’s okay.’ I shrug while Dermot’s eyes almost pop out of his head.

‘Okay?’ He leans across the table ‘She’s fucking stunning with a body I’d pay a serious amount of money to bury myself in.’

‘Want me to ask Rian who she is?’ I glance at the bar where my little brother is man-hugging the new Irish president.

‘No, I’ll ask her myself when she’s sitting on my lap in about ten minutes.’ Dermot turns his attention back to the stage.

‘What about her?’ He points at a red head dancing on one of the smaller podiums. She has curves in all the right places. Creamy, flawless skin. An ass that could give J-Lo a run for her money. Yet I can’t even muster a semi for her. It’s official. Ivy Winters has ruined me. I’m falling hard for a short sassy blonde with a mouth as big as her baby blue eyes, and a fondness for my family’s whiskey and my family jewels.

Ivy has got under my skin. Which is why I sleep in her bed every single night. Why I bring her coffee in the morning before hitting the gym. Why I feel unsettled any time she’s not within three feet of me.

‘I’ll get you a private dance. Call it an early birthday present,’ Dermot offers, tapping his finger against his glass.

‘My birthday is six months away.’

‘That’s why I said it’s an early birthday present.’ Dermot rolls his eyes.

‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

‘What the fuck, man? Who even are you?’ he tuts, refocusing on the brunette.

My phone lights up on the table.

I snatch it up before Dermot can see the screen and question why his sister is texting me at midnight on a Saturday night.

Ivy: You can look, but don’t even think about touching, or it’ll be me tying you to the bedposts and I won’t be nearly as generous with the orgasms.

My cheeks lift as a ridiculous smile cracks open my face. I force my lips straight, sneaking a glance to check Dermot is still occupied before typing out a reply.

Is that a promise?

Three dots appear instantly.

Ivy: Try me…

Is that jealousy I detect?

Ivy: No, it’s a concern. I’m worried you won’t be able to get it up again when you get home, old man, and I’m wet and waiting.

I’ve a good mind to bend you over the bed and smack your ass for your cheek.

Ivy: Is that a promise?

The sexy little wench.

What are you doing?

Ivy: Lying in bed…

Don’t even think about touching yourself. Or you won’t be tied to the bed post, you’ll be tied to the kitchen table so the staff can see what happens to people who misbehave.

I smirk, taking another sip of whiskey. Ivy probably wouldn’t care who saw if she got to come at the end of it. My woman is insatiable, and I love it.

‘Okay, who the fuck put hearts in your eyes?’ Dermot’s staring at me like I’ve grown two heads and a pair of tits.

‘What?’ I stuff my phone into my pocket, ignoring as it vibrates with another message. My fingers itch to pluck it out and read Ivy’s text, but if Dermot so much as suspects I’m flirting with his sister, he’ll saw my cock off like a wronged Samurai.

‘The woman texting you.’ His cobalt eyes gleam with interest. ‘Who is she?’

‘No one.’ A stab of guilt pierces my chest. Not because Ivy is his sister, but because I said she was no one, and that’s the biggest lie of all.

She’s not no one.

She’s the woman who’s bringing me back to life. The woman whose smile stirs something in my chest that I never dared to dream I’d feel again. The woman who I see every time I close my eyes.

‘No one you need to worry about,’ I correct myself.

‘Ah ha! I knew it.’ His palm hits the table with a loud thwack. ‘Is it someone you met in Monaco?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because you looked tired and guilty the other week when I called in and you’d only been back a matter of hours.’ He points an accusatory finger in my face, but he’s grinning from ear to ear. ‘Now stop deflecting and answer the question.’

‘Look, it’s still very new, but there is someone.’ I shrug.

‘That’s amazing!’ he says with genuine enthusiasm.

Rian chooses this moment to grace us with his presence.

‘Hey, Baby Beckett, congratulations on the club,’ Dermot stands and extends his hand in greeting.

‘Baby Beckett?’ Rian huffs. ‘Please! I might be the youngest, but have more experience than the rest of my brothers put together.’

Rian accepts Dermot’s hand and shakes it vigorously. I roll my eyes.

‘The real baby of the family is our sister, Zara. You might have met her?’

A devilish smirk lifts my little brother’s lips. ‘Don’t you have a sister too?’ He drops Dermot’s hand and motions for him to sit back down.

‘Yeah, Ivy. She’s actually nannying for Caelon at the moment.’

Rian clicks his fingers like he’s just remembered. The little fucking punk. ‘Oh, that’s right. I met her at the beach before with the kids.’

Yeah, then you took her out to lunch and asked her what her favourite sexual position was. A vein pulses in my temple as I shoot Rian a look deadly enough to kill.

None of my brothers would ever tell Dermot about Ivy and me. Our loyalty to each other runs deeper than the ocean, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t take pleasure in tormenting me.

‘Lovely girl.’ Rian bites back a smirk and slides into the booth beside Dermot. ‘Caelon finds her very obliging.’

Thankfully, Dermot doesn’t get the dig. ‘Did you hear Caelon has a woman on the go?’

‘He mentioned he’s been buried balls deep in someone half his age. He reckons she’s a real go-er.’ Rian winks at me.

I will actually kill him. I squeeze my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling my blood pressure rocket .

‘Spill, motherfucker.’ Dermot’s attention whips to me as a gleeful expression inches over his face. Technically, sister-fucker would be more appropriate. He won’t be nearly as chirpy if Rian doesn’t shut his huge trap. ‘And I thought I was your best friend, yet Baby Beckett knows everything, and I know nothing. So, who is she? And more importantly, has she got any friends?’

I imagine wrapping my hands around Rian’s neck and choking him slowly. Maybe not to death, because that would be difficult to explain to our parents, but hard enough to ensure his throat is so bruised he won’t be able to swallow, let alone talk, for a week.

‘Have a bit of respect, you fucking moron.’ I glare at Rian. ‘Don’t talk about my woman that way.’

‘Oh, “my woman”,’ Dermot repeats. ‘It’s serious, then? When do we get to meet her?’

I inhale a breath, then blow it out slowly .

‘Believe me, if it were up to me, we’d have all had dinner together by now, but it’s not that simple.’

‘Oh, is she married? Or the second secret daughter of your rival? No wait, don’t tell me, she’s a mafia princess!’ Dermot slaps his thigh and laughs.

I could wipe the smile from his face with one three-letter word, but I promised Ivy I wouldn’t tell him. I promised when the time was right, we’d tell him together – a promise I know I’m going to regret making.

‘She’s not married.’ Not yet anyway. But the way things are escalating, it’s a possibility I wouldn’t rule out – one day.

Thankfully, my other brothers choose this second to stride into the club. James is in the centre, flanked by Killian and Sean. Killian surveys the premises in the same way he surveys every room he enters, sweeping each nook and cranny like he’s searching for a hidden masked man who’s planning to jump out at him with a machete. He definitely has a touch of post-traumatic stress from his time in the forces, but it’s not something he’s ever discussed. Not with me, anyway. He comes across as cold and aloof, but I don’t doubt he’d take a bullet for any one of us.

‘Ah, look, the whole family reunited.’ Rian rises, motioning one of the topless waitresses over to bring more drinks.

‘Not quite,’ I mutter. Thankfully, Zara is away travelling, and my parents are still in Europe.

‘Congratulations, Rian.’ James sweeps a hand around the club. ‘I like what you’ve done with the place.’

‘You know, if Scarlett wants her old job back,’ Rian teases. Man, my little brother really does have a death wish.

James’s jaw tenses in a deadly grimace and his black eyes narrow to slits.

Rian raises his hands in surrender. ‘Just joking, brother. Relax. ’

Killian, Sean and James slide into the booth as the waitress brings another bottle of our family’s most expensive whiskey and four more crystal tumblers.

Sean fills up everyone’s glass, raises a toast to Rian’s new business venture, and James’s jaw eventually slackens.

‘Remember that dancer, Candice? Hot as fuck and takes cock like a champ?’ Rian inhales slowly, like he’s reliving a memory. ‘I tried to get her back, but she’s shacked up with some sugar daddy in France.’

‘Never mind Candice. What about Avery? She’s killing it in the UK,’ James says, knocking back a double shot and holding his glass out for a refill.

Scarlett’s best friend, Avery, started as a dancer at the Luxor Lounge five years ago to fund her way through university. Now she’s one of the most sought-after glamour models in Europe.

Killian huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes skywards.

‘Something wrong?’ James’s gaze weighs on our usually stoic brother.

Killian shakes his head but the way his fingers whiten around his glass tell a different story.

‘Will Avery make the wedding?’ Rian asks, oblivious to the tension rolling from our thunderous looking brother. Our baby brother’s probably already trying to work out how he can get into Avery’s panties.

‘She’s going to be a bridesmaid. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ James’s gaze is focussed solely on Killian when he answers. At least he hasn’t missed the weird animosity Killian clearly holds towards Avery.

‘For fucks sake,’ Killian’s baritone voice cuts through the air like a knife.

‘Is there a problem between you and Avery that I’m unaware of?’ James hunches over the table towards Killian, ‘Because she’s my future-wife’s best friend and I refuse to let anything spoil our big day. God knows we’ve waited long enough for it.’

‘The only problem between me and Avery is that she’s reckless, loud and incapable of staying out of trouble. Have you seen the British tabloids? My own personal favourite headline was “Wardrobe Whoops–Avery gives Paris Fashion Week an “Eye-full.”

‘Oh, I get it!’ Rian snaps his fingers. ‘Eye-full, instead of Eiffel.’

‘How are we even related?’ Killian mutters grimly. ‘The point is, do you really want all her drama at your wedding? Avery is a PR nightmare.’

‘She’s Scarlett’s best friend and that’s the end of it,’ James’s tone is final.

Killian’s mouth opens, then closes again. He’s already said more tonight than he’s said all month.

Something about Avery really grinds his balls.

Interesting.

‘This used to be such a great venue to meet,’ Rian changes the subject, glancing around wistfully.

Killian scoffs. ‘Speaking of family meetings, we need to arrange one. I have news.’

My head whips up. ‘News?’ It occurs to me that I forgot to call him this week for an update on the O’Connor situation. It’s the first week since Isabella died that I haven’t hounded him for a report.

‘Potentially.’ He looks pointedly at Dermot. He might be my best friend, but he isn’t family.

‘Danny Bourke’s latest neurological assessment showed increased brain activity,’ Killian says solemnly. ‘The doctors think he’s showing signs of waking.’

A shot of adrenaline bursts through my body. I’ve waited years to find out what happened the night Isabella died. I flex my fingers to hide the tremor. ‘But he’s still in a coma? ’

‘They reckon they’ve seen him flexing his fingers, like he’s trying to reach out. One of the nurses treating him swears he can hear her.’

‘What about the money trail? Any news?’ I blurt out.

‘I’m working on it.’ Killian looks pointedly at Dermot again. Dermot’s gaze is fixed on the brunette, but I don’t doubt his ears are firmly tuned in. My friend didn’t make it as a self-made millionaire because he was caught napping. Still, I trust him to keep his mouth shut if anything unfortunate should happen to the O’Connors.

I take a huge mouthful of whiskey, revelling in the burn as it coats my throat.

This is it.

I’m so close to getting what I want – enough proof to legitimately execute my revenge. To bleed the souls of those who’ve bled mine. I’m about to find out exactly how sweet revenge truly tastes.