Chapter 15
As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And this holiday has been the best. Tonight is my last night. The jet is scheduled for early tomorrow morning. My bags are mostly packed. My cup is full. And I am ready to get back to Beckett Deluxe Design.
What I’m not ready for is to say goodbye to California.
I hate goodbyes.
These past ten days have been magical. I have to wonder, if he lived in Ireland, would it work out between us?
I’m a workaholic, and I get the sense that he is too, but in a parallel universe, would we make it?
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror, taking in my new tan, and the light freckles dusting over my cheeks. My skin glows with the flush of copious amounts of soul-shattering orgasms. I look… refreshed.
I reach for my lipstick, apply it carefully, then dab it with a tissue. That should save some of it rubbing off on California later. He’s gone to his suite to get ready for dinner. We’re dining at a private table on the beach this evening.
Tate is sweeping the area right now, but he’s been more relaxed with California with every day that passed. After the sunburn on the boat trip last week, he was probably secretly grateful not to have to entertain me—and to have another set of eyes on me. There’s still a madman on the loose. Jack O’Connor is still at large. How is unfathomable, but there hasn’t been a single sighting of him since he disappeared into the forestry beside the prison. It’s like he literally disappeared into thin air.
We can’t hide out forever. My parents and sisters-in-law are bored senseless in Wicklow. They’re returning home tomorrow. Security has been doubled. All we can do is wait for him to rear his ugly head.
My phone buzzes on the marble counter beside the sink. For a split second, the devil in me hopes it’s James, suggesting I stay on. But even if I did, California is leaving tomorrow.
Where’s he going?
Where does he live?
What does he do?
Several times, I nearly blurted out those questions aloud, but the answers—whatever they are—are irrelevant.
We live on different continents. It doesn’t matter what his real name is, where he lives, or what he does. His world is light-years away from mine.
I snatch my phone up as it buzzes. Livvie. She’s been calling almost daily for updates on my holiday fling. She did say she wanted to live vicariously through me. I swipe to answer, and her stunning face fills my screen.
‘Is California and his giant cock there?’ She squeals effusively. ‘Can I see him p>
‘If he was, do you think I’d have answered your call?’ I roll my eyes at my friend as a smile splits my lips. ‘He’s gone to get ready. We have a table booked on the beach tonight p>
‘How romantic!’ Livvie swoons, clasping her hands together.
‘It’s not romance. It’s sex.’ I lie. Whatever this thing was between us, it’s turned out to be way more than sex. It allowed me to be myself, without the weight of being Zara Beckett, the woman who has to perpetually prove how capable and strong she is. It’s been… transcendent.
‘So are you finally going to get his name? Exchange numbers?’ Livvie’s eyes peer so close to the screen I can see her tiny blood vessels.
‘Nope.’ I pop the p slowly.
‘Why the fuck not? If the man is as good in bed as you say he is, I’d be arranging a repeat p>
‘We live worlds away from each. And even if we didn’t, I don’t have time for a man in my life. Not if I’m going to make Beckett Deluxe Design the most successful subsidiary of Beckett Enterprises p>
‘You could have phone sex!’ she suggests.
‘I hardly have time to have sex with someone who lives in the same city as me, let alone operates on a different time zone,’ I remind her. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what it’s like. How’s your case coming along p>
‘Fuck the case!’ she shrieks. ‘I called you for sordid details of your sex life, not to discuss work p>
Laughter gurgles in my throat. ‘I would say I missed you, but by calling me every day, you never gave me a chance to p>
A knock sounds on the suite door. ‘I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow p>
‘Meet me for a margarita,’ she begs.
‘I can’t. I’ll be wrecked. We’ll catch up over the weekend, I promise. Love you, bye.’ I hang up before she can change my mind.
My pastel pink halter neck dress billows behind me as I stride across the suite, sandals thwacking off the marble. I fluff my hair and open the door. California is leaning casually on the outer frame, his arms folded over his broad chest. But there’s nothing casual about the way my pulse raises in his proximity. He’s wearing a light blue shirt the same shade as his piercing eyes, and a smile that could dissolve my lingerie.
‘So…the last hurrah.’ Despite his smile, his voice is wistful, solemn almost.
‘And what a hurrah it’s been.’ My gaze falls to his full lips. The memory of the pleasure they’re capable of bestowing swirls in my stomach like a swarm of excited butterflies.
‘You ready?’ He offers his hand out to take mine.
‘Give me one second.’ I nip back inside, grab my lipstick, phone, and the last remaining condom and stuff them into my small purse. Better to be prepared, just in case we decide to have dessert alfresco—again.
We stroll through the gardens of the resort towards the beach. California catches my hand, and a hot burst of electricity fizzes through my fingers as they entwine with his. The resort is drenched in that honey-dipped glow that only appears in the moments before sunset—when the whole world pauses, suspended between day and night.
Palm trees sway lazily overhead, whispering in the warm breeze. Lanterns flicker to life one by one as the sky shifts from molten gold to soft blush pink. The scent of frangipani blooms thickens in the air, mingling with the salt of the sea. Somewhere, faint music drifts from one of the bars. The white phalaenopsis orchids catch my eye. I slow to a stop, and bend to sniff one.
California brushes his finger over a petal. ‘You like p>
‘I love.’ I stand and slip my hand back into his as we continue to the beach. The sun dips lower on the horizon, sinking into the Caribbean Sea like a burning coin. The waves catch the light and scatter it in glittering shards across the shoreline. And there, nestled on the sand a few metres from the water, is our table.
A private canopy has been erected just for us. The white fabric is tied back with braided rope, the breeze tugging playfully at the edges. Inside, a round table draped in crisp linen awaits, illuminated by a circle of candles that glow warm against the encroaching dusk.
Tate lingers beside the setup, arms folded, his silhouette tall and alert against the pastel sky. He gives me a small nod, reassuring me everything is secure.
California hesitates for half a heartbeat, taking in the scene. He scrubs a hand over his jawline, like maybe he’s wondering if this is too much.
‘I’ll give you some privacy.’ Tate breaks the silence between us.
‘Thanks,’ I nod, and he backs away.
My bottom has barely touched the seat when a waitress glides towards us, balancing a chrome cooling bucket between her palms. Nestled inside, a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé Vintage sweats delicately against the ice.
‘I thought you might like one for the road.’ California lowers himself into the seat opposite me.
‘One what, exactly?’ I fire him a wink.
A slow smirk curves his lips. ‘Whatever you want, Irish.’ Those cool blue eyes darken to two twin pools that a weaker woman might drown in.
The waitress pops the cork and pours two flutes. Bubbles race to the surface in a rush of rose-gold foam.
‘It really will only be one. We’ve only got one condom left,’ I tell him the second she leaves us alone.
Horror hijacks his face. ‘How is that possible p>
I shrug. ‘We’ve been busy p>
‘Oh well,’ his jaw juts out. ‘Either I fuck you bareback, or I fuck your ass. The choice is yours.’ He shrugs casually. ‘I saw the packet of pills in your suite though. And I’m clean. I promise p>
The thought of having him bare inside me sets a fresh wave of arousal flooding through me. ‘I’m on the pill,’ I admit, ‘But, I might let you fuck my ass anyway.’ His eyes flare as I reach for my glass; the cool chill kisses my fingertips.
‘You, Irish, are a fucking goddess. It’s been a pleasure getting to know every inch of your incredibly sexy body.’ He clinks his glass against mine.
‘What shall we toast to?’ I ask him, the same way I asked him at the start of the holiday.
He grins, not missing a beat. ‘To holiday flings and carnal things p>
‘Amen to that p>
We order the fresh lobster—caught that morning. When it arrives, even the sea air can’t compete with the scent.
‘Wow,’ I murmur. ‘That smells incredible p>
‘You smell incredible.’ He leans over the table to brush his nose over my neck. A shiver races down my spine. ‘I might have to buy a bottle of your perfume and spray it on my pillow p>
‘Stalker,’ I tease, reaching for my cutlery.
‘Believe me, sweetheart, if I wanted to stalk you, I could.’ He settles back in his chair, staring at me with his usual intensity. ‘If I wasn’t so averse to the idea of marriage after watching my mother make a shitshow of hers, I’d lock you down permanently,’ he jokes.
At least I think he’s joking.
‘And if I wasn’t a workaholic, determined to make my business the most successful subsidiary of my family business, I might just let you.’ I run my fork through the lobster—it’s tender and glistening, steaming faintly in front of me. Or the steam could be emanating from California. He’s positively smouldering.
Silence settles between us as the finality of our situation sinks in. I study him, committing every inch of his face to memory. The way the light catches his profile, sharpening every carved line. The shadow of emotion that flickers across his face. I can’t read him, not fully—but I get the impression he’s contemplating asking me something real. Something I quickly realise I don’t want to answer. Because this entire trip has been magical, and I don’t want to tarnish it with truths that might change our perception of each other.
‘Want to come back to my suite tonight?’ He flashes me his perfect Hollywood smile. ‘It would be a sin not to fuck you in the rooftop hot tub before we leave p>
‘The rooftop hot tub?’ There’s only one suite that has one of those. ‘Don’t tell me you had The Celeste Suite this whole time p>
‘The one and only.’ His smile spreads into a full-blown grin.
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ I’m dying to see the inside of that suite. And not just the décor. Because while I’m not ready to exchange more than bodily fluids with California, I wouldn’t mind a sneaky insight into the man who I’ll probably spend the rest of my life wondering about.