9. Rae
9
RAE
T he car is built for speed, but I’m more aware of the man in the passenger seat than the roar of the engine. He’s still distractingly naked from the waist up, his arm resting on the windowsill.
“Turn right,” he says.
“I know.”
“You’re an insolent chauffeur.”
“I’d be more pleasant if you rode in the back.” I spare a glance for the impossibly cramped rear seat of the Ferrari.
My companion’s grin is quick and surprised, but my gaze falls to the scars on his chest once more. Evidence of something I never entertained…
Harrison King is human.
I don’t know what to do with that information, except wish I could forget it.
But I can’t.
His parents died, suddenly and horrifically, and took everything he knew of life with them. He started over from nothing with only a vision of what might have been to keep him company.
I know how lonely it is to rebuild your world once it’s shattered. I’ve felt the grief that comes with losing not only your security, but yourself.
We make it back to the house and park in front of the villa.
He reaches over me and hits a button on the car’s dash, opening the trunk. I shift out of the car as he retrieves his bottle of liquor from the trunk, then I follow him up the steps to the front door.
At night, the villa is breathtaking. This entire place feels like a magical escape.
Harrison turns to me on the landing and holds out a hand. I place the keys in his open palm, and he closes his fingers so fast I jump.
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs.
“I’m wondering if you always keep a bottle of liquor in your car.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Only today.”
We head inside, finding Barney waiting in the low nightlights of the kitchen. Harrison leans down to pat the eager pet before grabbing a lowball glass from the kitchen shelf and starting toward the stairs, glass in one hand and bottle in the other.
I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to drink more, or alone, given what this day means to him. “I want a sandwich,” I blurt.
It’ll keep him from drinking, plus put real food in his stomach in case he continues.
“You’re asking the wrong man.” But he pauses on the first step long enough that I try something crazy.
“Please?”
With a wary look, as if he’s guessing what I’m playing at, Harrison relents and crosses to the fridge.
The dog makes a hopeful noise as the door opens.
“Natalia keeps the good stuff in here,” he murmurs, pulling on a drawer.
“She hides it from you?”
“Used to when we were kids. I ate anything in sight for a few years.”
He uses the fresh bread on the counter and serrano and hard cheese from the fridge to make two sandwiches.
Claiming seats on opposite sides of the table, we eat in silence.
This is the longest we’ve gone without sparring.
“Enjoying the view?” He catches me checking him out, and I swallow my bite and nearly my tongue along with it.
“Your brother’s hotter,” I manage.
Harrison lifts a brow.
“What? He’s my age.” I shift in my seat. “Unlike you.”
Blue eyes cool on mine. “Don’t let me stand in your way.”
The comment shouldn’t disappoint me. It does.
Tonight, he looked at me like I was more than means to an end.
It was unexpected and thrilling.
We finish our snacks, and Harrison offers the last piece of meat to Barney, who spins in a delighted circle.
“You don’t strike me as the dog type.”
“My brother bought him for me after Eva left.” Harrison takes our plates and sets them on the counter.
“Said he was to keep me company,” he goes on, “but I think he wanted to soften me.”
We start for the stairs, Harrison gesturing for me to go first.
He’s behind me, so close that if I turned, we’d be touching. His strong chest and arms, those unearthly blue eyes, his vile, gorgeous mouth.
“Did it work?” I ask over a shoulder.
The house is quiet except for Barney’s soft whining from the floor below. As if he feels the tension from his spot on the rug by the door.
“You tell me.”
When we get to the top, I pause and turn.
He’s right there. Beautiful and messed up and filling my senses.
When I lift my chin to meet Harrison’s gaze, we’re breathing the same air. His mouth is inches away, his bare chest too. All that power carefully restrained.
“As a boy, I wondered if the people who are softest on the inside are hardest on the outside.”
“Why is that?” I manage.
His eyes are deep as the ocean, guarded emotions swirling beneath the surface like rogue currents.
“Because they have to be.”
* * *
I never claimed to be in exceptional shape, but as I pull up at the end of my run on Friday, I’m breathing heavily while Barney barely pants.
“I’m sending you some money,” I tell Callie as I ruffle the fur on the dog’s head.
I’ve played three shows in Ibiza and been paid for the first two. True to his word, Harrison cut me in—though the door was nowhere near enough to make a dent in the twenty thousand, which means I need to haul ass to fill the place the rest of the time I’m here.
“I would never have asked you if it wasn’t?—”
“I know,” I say. “It’s important to both of us. How is work?”
Her voice is instantly more enthusiastic as she talks about the young women she’s met during the past week at an event she ran.
The past few days, I’ve been feeling better too. Working on social media, on my sets, and even meeting up with Leni to get ideas for how to draw more people to Debajo.
I’m more comfortable now that I have my belongings back.
Minus the pills. I still find myself looking over to the nightstand for them at least once a day.
“So, how are the guys?” Callie’s voice drags me back. “Any hot locals or all tourists?”
I can’t tell if it’s the steep hill leading up to the villa or the memory of swimming with Harrison King that has my heart hammering.
The man who kept my mind whirring long after I crawled into bed Monday night, body still tingling from the sea and his presence and driving his car, isn’t a tourist or a local. He’s a globe-trotting billionaire who hides himself behind his thirst for conquering.
Are you generous when you fuck?
Under the half moon, far from the lights of Ibiza Town, the question floored me.
Not because of his hard body or physical intensity, but because he showed me a piece of his soul, then leaned in.
What he told me about his parents’ deaths, how everything he does is devoted to building what they could’ve had…
I can’t help looking at him through a new lens.
Which hardly matters because since that night, he’s been avoiding me.
I’m sure if I pinned him down, he’d say he’s been occupied with work and dinners out.
But Thursday morning, I was up earlier than usual and tripped into the hallway in my pajamas to use the bathroom only to run into him emerging in his towel, clean and unshaven.
He caught the fabric before it slipped too far, but I could see the trail of light hair from his navel downward.
If I thought the night in the ocean was dangerous, this was indecent.
He looked startled to see me awake, muttering about his showerhead being replaced in the ensuite while I tried not to choke on my own tongue.
When he didn’t attend my show that night, I was disappointed.
The door inched up as a result of video streamed from the previous performance. I should’ve been relieved there was no moody owner to keep me from talking with fans and helping ensure next week’s gig would be even bigger.
I wasn’t.
Since the richest man I’ve ever met made me sandwiches half-naked in his kitchen, he’s been dodging me like a high school quarterback who’s dealing with one too many irritating crushes.
“Rae, you’re not responding. That means there’s a guy.”
“He’s not my type,” I say as I reach the door of the villa and push it open, going for the dog’s leash before my shoes. Lesson learned on that front.
“I’m everyone’s type,” a familiar voice calls from the living room.
“I know you took a hit to your career by standing up to King,” she goes on, “but it speaks to the kind of person you are. You deserve a hot summer fling.”
Guilt gnaws at my stomach.
Maybe I could stand to get laid. But I roll with guys more likely to sell their belongings for a ticket to an indie music festival than count the money from their international conquests.
Even if my body thinks the man would make a beautiful distraction, it’s wrong. I’m here to do this job.
Not to fuck him.
After saying goodbye to my cousin, I hang up and cross to where Ash is stretched out along the couch watching sports.
“What is this place, the headquarters of the British Billionaires Club?” I mutter.
“Charming. But I’m a future member, not a current one.”
His smile is contagious as he gestures to the couch next to him. I drop into the spot, still sweaty from my run.
“I told you you’d stay,” he gloats. “I trust my brother charmed you into it?”
“Not quite. We came to a new agreement that worked for everyone. Why are you here? Don’t you have a hotel?”
“I’m staying at a villa with guys from my club. Though once you spend an entire season with a bunch of pricks, you’ve had enough of them by the end.”
“Then why did you come to Ibiza with them?”
Ash frowns. “One of the veterans is trying to turn the club against me. I had a reputation for being perfectionistic when I was drafted. It served me fine my entire life, but apparently teammates don’t like my standards applied to them. It’s like fucking secondary school all over again.”
“This is why I never made friends in high school.” When Ash starts to rise from the couch, I tug him back down. “People decide what they want from you. You have to show them they’re wrong.”
He holds out his coffee. “Try this. Natalia got it.”
“Natalia didn’t get it. I did.”
Ash cocks his head. “Brilliant American girl.”
Harrison walks in, looking between us. The tension on his face deepens. “You two are lying around all day?”
Ash puts his hands behind his head. “Just waiting for you to come and judge us.”
His brother shoots him a look that could freeze an active volcano before glancing my way.
No sign of a thaw.
He’s gone the next instant.
“It’s not you,” Ash says. “There’s a charity gala event tomorrow night and major players Harrison needs to show face with.”
Curiosity has me leaning in. “And he doesn’t want to?”
“Only because his business rival might be there.”
“The man your parents used to work for.”
Ash shifts back to one end of the couch, surveying me with surprise.
“He told me he wants to build an empire to atone for what happened to your parents. What he thinks happened to them.”
Ash nods, still looking impressed by my knowledge. “Our parents worked for the Ivanov family. Now their son has taken over the business.”
“Harrison thinks they had a hand in your parents’ deaths.”
Ash flinches. “Wealth and power make people do strange things.”
I shake my head, trying to catch up. “Mischa and Harrison are the same age?”
“Two years apart. But they went to school together.” Ash frowns. “This gala is a bore, but the host is a friend of the family.” His expression brightens. “Come with me as my date.”
I snort, until I realize he’s serious.
“Can I wear this?” I gesture to my running clothes, and he barks out a laugh.
“Fuck no. It’s black tie. I’ll pick you up at eight!” he calls as I head to my room, taking down my hair and eager to shower off the sweat.
Before I can, my gaze flicks to the nightstand, and I do a double take at the bottle of pills there.
Same medication. Same dosage. Enough to last me until I leave.
What the…?
He’s been avoiding me all week. No more.
I head down the hall and push in Harrison’s office door without knocking.
He looks up from his desk, looking caught out but otherwise immaculate in a pale-green shirt that sets off his blond hair and slight tan.
“You replaced my pills,” I say.
“I estimated the dosage based on the size of the ones I disposed of.”
I turn toward his bookshelves. The fact that this man knows more than anyone about my weaknesses has my stomach clenching.
“Thank you. I like knowing they’re there if I need them.”
It’s almost as if they’re an artifact from a version of me that no longer exists but one I don’t want to forget.
There are dozens of books, and I trace a finger along the faded spines before I pull out one in a clear plastic case. “ The Count of Monte Cristo . A good man who lost his way on a path for vengeance.”
“Vindication. Justice. There’s a difference.”
I open the cover and take in the date, my mouth rounding. “A first edition?”
“The first edition was published as a serial and in French. This is a second.”
I nearly drop it in my haste to replace it on the shelf.
“Why did you let me pick it up? It’s three hundred years old and could fall apart in a second.”
“Beautiful things are made to be touched.”
The softness in his voice sends shivers through me.
Like that, I’m rocketed back to the night on the beach. His words, his closeness, his intensity.
“I understand from Leni the door was up by a hundred last night,” he goes on. “You’ll need to do better if you want to profit from our deal.”
I frown. “I see our truce is over.”
“Were you hoping it wasn’t?” He cocks his head.
I refuse to cop to anything where he’s concerned. He’ll make me pay for it.
“There’s something about you I can’t figure out.”
“Only one thing?”
He ignores me and continues. “What changed from your first night in Ibiza to the next morning that made you renegotiate?”
I don’t want to talk about this. It’s personal.
But the man who told me about his parents dying two nights ago replaced my anxiety meds.
There isn’t a clean line between business and personal with him, if there ever was one.
“My cousin co-runs a program for women who’ve experienced sexual violence. Their funding has been slashed by government cuts. They need help keeping the lights on for a couple of months, or they won’t be able to keep providing services.”
He blinks at me as if I told him I wanted to buy breeding rhinoceros and start a farm back in Orange County.
“That’s very committed,” he says at last. “But you can’t take responsibility for everyone in this world. There are too many evils.”
Conviction has me standing straighter. “No woman should have to endure sexual violence, and they sure as fuck shouldn’t endure it alone.”
He studies me long enough that I feel as if he’s peering beneath my skin, under the layers of Little Queen or Rae which are fit for public consumption.
He shifts in his chair, his strong body reclining as both hands curl over the armrests. “There’s a charity event tomorrow for the local environmental commission. Plenty of cynics like me and bleeding hearts like you.”
“I heard. Ash asked me to go with him.”
“Ash?” Surprise flits across his handsome face. Harrison rubs a hand over his jaw. “Tell my brother he can find another date. You’ll go with me.”
I laugh, incredulous. “What? Why?”
“I can want the company of an earnest young music producer in my employ. Who knows? Perhaps you can elicit business for your show next week.”
I could promote Debajo, but that would mean being the date of this man I respond to when I shouldn’t. Fancy clothes, booze, Harrison King looking like the god he is while he wraps Ibiza’s in crowd around his finger.
Since my conversation with Callie, I can’t help wondering what else he could do with those hands.
Harrison King might boast about his empire, but he has the goods to back it up.
Would he be as capable if he applied himself to a woman?
I know he would.
What I’m less sure of is whether he’d plow through her, demand she bend to his every need until she’s so caught up in his storm she can’t resist it…
Or whether he’d check his ambition long enough to learn and explore and test and play.
To step out of his need for power like I watched him step out of his clothes that night at the beach.
I swallow.
Spending a night with him would be more than a quick fix. I can’t let him get under my skin more than he already has.
“I don’t think so.”
His gaze narrows as he folds his arms across his chest. “You don’t want to spend an evening with me.”
I cross to his desk, lift the letter opener off the blotter, and hold it out. “In case you need help scraping yourself off the ground.”
But before I can turn, a hand closes around my wrist, hot and firm and strong.
“I said it would be more appropriate if you dated my brother. That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“Really? You’re so damned subtle it’s hard to keep up,” I taunt.
Bad idea.
His thumb brushes the underside of my wrist. Soft, deliberate.
My pulse leaps in response, and the letter opener clatters to the desktop.
“I need a date, and you owe me three favors,” he drawls. I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until he releases me again. “Consider this the first.”