Chapter 1
‘Are you sure you want to go to the Caribbean alone?’ Livvie, my blonde, busty, ball-breaking best friend says from the bar stool beside me. We’re in my brother, Rian’s bar, Envy. With its gleaming black marble counters and velvet covered booths, it’s as opulent as every other establishment he owns—one of the few I didn’t design the interior of.
My business, Beckett’s Deluxe Design Agency, is the most exclusive interior design company in the country. We’re solidly booked out six, sometimes even nine months in advance—which is both a blessing and a curse.
‘Gee, let me think.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Do I want to spend the rest of January in dreary Dublin, or jet off to a luxurious five star resort in the Dominican Republic, away from the prying eyes of my family and the media? What do you think?’ I reach for my cocktail from the bar in front of me; an Old Fashioned, made with Beckett’s Gold, my family’s whiskey. Rian refuses to serve anything else in any of his bars. ‘It’s bad enough having five big, burly brothers mollycoddling me. Please don’t you start as well p>
When I say James, Caelon, Killian, Sean and Rian are overprotective—it’s the understatement of the century.
Livvie leans forward, a small smirk tugging her lips. ‘How are your five big, burly brothers, by the way?’ She flutters her thick dark eyelashes suggestively.
‘Married,’ I remind her. ‘Or near enough p>
I’m used to my friends swooning over my brothers. Drooling over them. Obsessing over them. I’ve had to endure it my entire life. At least now that they’re all finally off the singles’ market, I have a legitimate reason to say no when I’m begged to make introductions.
‘Did Killian and Avery set a date for the wedding yet?’ Livvie takes a sip of her Mojito, eyeing me over the rim. She’s obsessed with my future sister-in-law’s magazine column in the American fashion and lifestyle magazine, Elegance.
‘Yes, finally.’ I cross my legs, smoothing down the fitted ebony Zimmermann dress I picked out earlier. ‘Next Christmas p>
‘That’s almost a whole year away,’ Livvie groans. ‘That’s one photoshoot I’m dying to pore over. What type of dress do you think she’ll go for? How many bridesmaids is she having? Do you think she’ll wear her hair up or down p>
‘I don’t know.’ I also have no interest in obsessing over every tiny decadent detail. I’m over the moon my broodiest brother is finally getting married. They’ve been engaged for a while now, but I don’t feel the need to dissect every aspect of the arrangements.
I’m not one of those girls who dream of a big white wedding.
No, my dreams are rather different—like making my interior design business the most successful subsidiary of Beckett Enterprises.
My brothers and I each run our own company under the Beckett umbrella. When I initially approached them about my intention to start an interior design company, they laughed—before quickly covering it with multiple coughs—when they realised I was serious.
They assumed there was minimal profit in that line of business. That the market was already flooded with “arty hipsters”—their words, not mine.
But they were wrong.
I’ve proved it exponentially over the past eighteen months, landing multi-million euro contracts for multiple celebrity homes, restaurants, and even the Varmont, one of Dublin’s oldest and most prestigious castles.
And I’m only getting warmed up.
I love my brothers. I’d kill for them. Die for them even, but I’m beyond sick of being babied by them. By the time I’m done, I’m going to outearn all of them combined, then we’ll see who has the last laugh.
As a perpetual overachiever, I flew through private school a year early, strutted straight into Dublin’s top design college–before most people my age had even picked their courses, and graduated two years later–top of my class–with a distinction. By the time I wrapped up my final semester, I’d already prepared a full proposal for Beckett Deluxe Design and presented it formally to the Board. An impeccable pitch deck and a seven-figure revenue projection shut them up spectacularly. The second they signed off on it, I launched my business with a head full of ideas and absolutely no intention of playing small. Now, I’m designing luxury Beckett-level opulent aesthetic that everyone suddenly wants a slice of.
‘Avery will be stunning, whatever she wears.’ Livvie drags me back into the moment. ‘Christmas weddings are always so magical. It’s so exciting!’ she squeals, motioning for the barman to get us another round.
Oh god. I’m going to have to listen to this for the entire year. I better at least try and get her an invite, or I’ll be listening to worse for a lot longer.
I glance around the lavish décor as the smartly dressed server prepares our drinks. Envy is one of about thirty bars and nightclubs my brother Rian owns. Until recently, he could nearly always be found drinking and partying in one of them. No danger of bumping into him here tonight though. Not now that he’s finally snagged Rebekka Remington, the woman of his dreams, and his former best friend’s wife.
It’s a long story.
But one that thankfully, ended happily—for them at least. I’m certain he’ll lock things down with a ring of his own soon enough. He’s been obsessed with Rebekka for years. And then there will be another big Beckett wedding for Livvie to obsess over.
The server returns, placing our cocktails on the counter in front of us. I don’t even offer to pay. My brother has never once allowed me to buy a drink in any of his bars. While I find it a little bit patronising, my friend has no such qualms.
‘I wish you could come with me tomorrow.’ I sigh, reaching for her hand, smoothing my fingers over the back of it. ‘Are you sure you can’t escape work—even for a week p>
Livvie is a trainee solicitor in Dublin’s most prestigious criminal law firm, which basically means the firm owns her soul—and her sleep schedule.
She exhales heavily. ‘I wish. My boss is the devil in a three-piece suit. He could have given this case to anyone other than me. I swear he did it deliberately because he knew I’d booked annual leave p>
‘He gave it to you because you’re the best.’ I don’t say that out of loyalty. It’s a fact. Livvie comes from a long line of lawyers. It’s in her blood. She’s smart, savvy, sassy, as well as sexy in a suit.
‘He gave it to me because he’s an asshole.’ She rolls her eyes.
‘Want me to have Killian hunt him down?’ I offer, only half joking. Killian is the third youngest Beckett brother, but easily the most formidable. As head of Beckett Elite Security, he’s a lethally trained killer with an army of men at his fingertips. I don’t like to dwell on the things he does for our family. We have a lot of enemies. Many want what our family has—power, wealth and position—privileges which come at a high price.
She throws her head back and laughs. ‘Maybe not hunt him down exactly, but if he could stop by my office sometime, it wouldn’t do any harm. Especially not to my eyes p>
‘Don’t let Avery hear you say that,’ I warn. ‘Or you won’t have any eyes.’ I’m not even joking. My sisters-in-law are as possessive of their men as their men are possessive of them. Being around them all… being the only single Beckett sibling is… an experience.
My phone chimes from my black patent Christian Louboutin clutch beside me. I reach for it, opening the clasp. ‘What part of, I’m on annual leave from five p.m. today do people not respect? I warned Nico not to bother me unless someone is dying p>
Nico is my PA, my personal stylist, and occasionally my therapist. We met in the first year of college. He sat next to me, took one look at my Pinterest board and announced that we were going to be great friends. He wasn’t wrong. When I pitched Beckett Deluxe Design Agency to the board, he helped me design the entire proposal right down to the colour coded presentation. When I said I needed a PA, he volunteered, and I hired him without hesitation.
I squint at the screen.
NICO: Sorry to bother you. It’s the Yank again. He’s very persistent. He wants an answer by midday tomorrow. Apparently he’s going to be out of the office for two weeks, and he’s determined to lock you down before then. He’s offering double your usual fee. It’s a no-brainer, Zara. The exposure this will give the agency is mind-blowing.
I blow out a frustrated breath. Cole Hartmann, the fucking yank, has been breaking my balls for the best part of a year, and that’s no mean feat. He’s desperate for me to design the interior of his new five-star hotel overlooking St Stephen’s Green, directly opposite my brother’s flagship hotel. Hartman’s bespoke chain of hotels all boast a signature state-of-the-art casino, bar and nightclub. This hotel will far surpass anything this city has ever seen before—even my brothers’ portfolios of opulent establishments.
Which is why they’re so fucking openly opposed to it.
And to me taking on the project.
If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t even hesitate. I want this project. It has the potential to put Beckett Deluxe Design Agency on the international map. The Yank might be obnoxious and demanding in his emails, but Cole Hartmann has a serious portfolio to support that arrogance, scattered across the world: Vegas, New York, Paris, London. Now he wants to take Dublin by storm too.
My brothers’ power only extends so far. They successfully blocked his planning application for months, but last June, it finally went through. And Cole Hartmann has wasted no time with his iconic rebuild.
Having never met the man in person, I have no idea if he wants to use my agency to piss my brothers off further, or to win them over and stop the feud brewing between them.
Either way, it’s futile.
Once my brothers make their mind up about something, they rarely change it. And all five of them are in agreement that Cole Hartmann’s casino hotel is direct competition for all the Beckett businesses.
I narrow my eyes at the phone.
It’s decision time.
My business.
Or my brothers’ approval.
‘Everything okay?’ Livvie asks as I start typing out a text.
Tell him I’ll do it. But it’ll be June before I even look at the place. He can take it or leave it.
Nothing like leaving things to fate.
‘It will be—I hope.’ I toss my phone back into my bag. ‘Now, I better get moving. I have a date with a pilot, a bottle of Beckett’s Black Label, and my Kindle, first thing in the morning.’ I knock back my cocktail and stand.
Livvie pushes her chair back and hops onto her five-inch heels. She drapes her arms around me, hauling me against her chest. A cloud of familiar Dior perfume assaults my senses. ‘I’m absolutely devastated I can’t go with you. I’ll call you every day so you can sicken me with the views p>
‘There will be other holidays.’ Besides, some alone time might be exactly what I need after yet another busy Beckett Christmas.
At least this year, no one was kidnapped.
If I’m honest, I’m exhausted. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud. No wonder, given I haven’t taken a proper break since I launched the business.
Burnout simply isn’t an option.
‘Maybe you’ll find some hot stranger to bang.’ Livvie’s bright eyes flare. She knows what it’s like. If I so much as have dinner with a man, my brothers insist on running a background check on him.
I glance over my shoulder at my ever present driver/bodyguard, Tate. At six foot five, with startling red hair, he’s not exactly inconspicuous, but he’s the best bodyguard I’ve ever had. Like all of Killian’s men, he’s lethally trained, but his best skill by far is discretion.
We’ve developed a mutual understanding over the years. Unlike my previous bodyguards, he treats me with the respect a grown woman deserves.
‘With any luck.’ I wink at my friend. ‘Sun, sea, Sangria… what could possibly go wrong p>