10. Rae
10
RAE
T his is a bad fucking idea.
I take a deep breath as I turn back to the mirror. The dress is the color of tangerines, ripe and lush.
It’s cut high at the front, circling my neck like a collar. The back is nonexistent, starting above the top of my ass. The skirt has a high slit up one thigh, and the long fabric on either side ripples when I turn or walk.
Before I could ask Ash what to wear or browse shops on my own, the box appeared on my bed.
The sky-high wedge sandals that came with the dress are the same color as my skin. They’re uncomfortable as hell when I fasten them around my ankles, but before I can decide whether to take them off, a knock sounds on my door.
“I understand most women consider tardiness a virtue, but I didn’t expect it of you,” comes the grumpy British voice from the other side.
I pull it open an inch, and my chest contracts.
Harrison King is breathtaking in his tux. James Bond come to life, with a hard body, sculpted lips, strong hands, and eyes that promise to steal your secrets and keep them for himself.
But it’s the naked hunger on his face when he sees me, his gaze dragging over me like he’s starved, that makes me want to turn around and slam the door.
“It’s more Little Queen than me,” I quip to hide the ripples of awareness.
“She’s you. And this…” His gaze runs down my figure again. “This is definitely you.”
His praise warms me. I don’t need anyone else’s approval, but knowing a man who’s seen everything, done everything, could have anyone, gets simple pleasure from being in my presence is a high I never expected.
“You arseholes coming, or should Toro and I go on ahead?” Ash taunts from down the stairs.
When I start along the open hallway, Ash spots me from the foyer and dining area below and whistles. “Christ, Rae. If you’re looking for a man tonight?—”
“She’s not,” Harrison informs him.
I make it down the hall without incident, then trip at the top of the stairs. Strong arms grab my waist, my ribs, before I can spill down to the first floor.
“Are the shoes the wrong size?” Harrison murmurs at my ear.
“No. They’re the wrong style.” I go on at his confused look. “If I wanted eight more inches, I’d have asked for it.”
“And I’d have given it to you,” Ash declares, making me grin and Harrison glare.
Toro greets us outside. “Beautiful,” he says, beaming at me.
“Thanks. I had the dress in my suitcase.” I wink, and he laughs. “What about this car?” I nod to the vintage Rolls-Royce, a departure from the usual Mercedes, complete with a chrome ornament on the hood.
“Had it in my basement,” he teases, and it’s my turn to grin.
Since I arrived in Ibiza, we’ve found a handful of moments to talk. In the car, I learned Natalia is his wife and that they’ve worked for Harrison’s family a long time. One day, when I found him working in the garden outside, I insisted he let me help him. In exchange, he told me about his daughter.
He misses her. It’s clear from the way he speaks about her.
But he and Natalia enjoy taking care of the house, and Harrison and Ash are extended family to them.
Toro goes to help me into the back of the car, but Harrison holds the door first. I shift into the middle, Ash claiming the other side.
“This is cozy,” Ash says pleasantly.
We’re pressed tight, my shoulders brushing both of theirs. But it’s Harrison’s I’m most aware of, his body that makes mine tingle.
“So, whose place is this?” I ask, trying to settle my nerves.
“Christian Geroux. A businessman,” Harrison states.
He looks as if he’s going to say more but pulls out his phone and frowns at it.
When Ash leans forward to talk with Toro, I glance at Harrison’s screen, doing a double take. “Whoa. That font is size a million.”
“What are you talking about? It’s barely legible.”
“You need reading glasses.”
Harrison presses his lips together and refuses to say more as we head to the party, his strong profile a dark outline against the lights beyond the car.
The idea he has a weakness pisses him off like a business deal gone sour. I smirk the whole way to the party.
The villa we pull up in front of is every bit as sprawling and impressive as the one I’m staying in. More formally designed and decorated, it’s meant to be enjoyed by guests as opposed to the people who occupy it when the lights go out.
There are terraced gardens flanking a curved driveway, discreet security in tuxedos at either side of the door. Twinkling lights are just visible on some patio along the side.
We head in through the front door, staff immediately descending to offer us drinks. I’m distracted from the sudden surge of nerves by the gorgeous house, every wall filled with art, every corner with lush plants.
On the terrace, a hundred people are milling about. There’s a six-piece band in one corner and a dance floor. Torches light the huge outside space, with recessed lighting on the inside.
“This place is incredible,” I murmur to Ash.
“Christian had it built as his holiday home. He spared no expense. He never does.”
Before long, people are approaching us—approaching Harrison mostly. When pressed, he introduces me as Raegan. No one calls me Raegan, but as unsettling as it is, there’s something new about it on his lips.
I’d been expecting Harrison to be distant like in the car or confrontational like every other time, but he’s the opposite. He stands close enough to steer me with a hand on my back, but his presence feels protective rather than controlling.
For a minute, I wonder what it would feel like to be on his arm for real. He’s a king here, and not only in name. This world he plays in, he runs it.
The men he considers rivals must be formidable indeed.
One of the women smiles in my direction as Harrison and her husband, who’s in media, talk global news and business. It’s a strange vibe as she leans in. “Do you model?”
I choke on my drink. “Not lately.”
“Ah. Harrison is a master at keeping beautiful women on his arm. But I suppose things change.”
Her catty tone makes me stiffen. Next to me, Harrison glances over in the middle of his sentence. As if he didn’t hear but sensed my reaction.
A hand on my back has awareness tingling up my spine.
“You know,” I say to her, “I was reading a story last week about how this wine tasting club was served the wrong wine. Instead of a thousand-dollar bottle, they got a twenty-dollar one. And they gave it rave reviews.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Quality doesn’t come from a label,” Harrison cuts in smoothly.
The fact that he was listening enough to stay on top of my conversation, not only his, has gratitude blooming in my stomach.
He leans in, brushing his lips against my ear. “Everything all right?”
“I can handle them.”
“I know you can. But that doesn’t mean you should have to.” He squeezes my arm, a brief reassurance as genuine as it is surprising.
I’m not comfortable at large events. Unless I’m performing, where I have distance from the crowd, I prefer small groups with people I know.
When I stopped going to parties in high school, around the same time I started working on my music, I figured my friends would understand.
They didn’t.
The girls who used to invite me to things turned their backs on me.
When I tried to explain that I couldn’t relax and enjoy myself, they froze me out.
Evidently our friendship was based on gushing over our older brothers’ college friends, and getting drunk enough we couldn’t remember what we did the next day.
Once neither of those things appealed to me, I stopped appealing to them.
Tonight, Harrison’s telling me he knows I’ve got this. But in case I don’t, he’s got me.
It’s that realization that has me pulling back. “I, ah, need to find a bathroom.”
I duck out, feeling his gaze between my shoulders.
On the way, I get lost and run into a distinguished-looking man in his seventies.
“Good evening. We haven’t met,” he says, reaching for my hand.
I let him take it, press a dry kiss to the back. “I was just looking for a bathroom,” I say when he releases me.
“ Bien s?r . This is my house, and I can show you the way.”
“Oh! Mr. Geroux.”
“Christian, please.” He graciously spreads his hands. “Make yourself at home. I do enjoy hosting, and I’ll have fewer opportunities when I retire.”
“Then why retire at all?”
“Because I have children who require me unlike any business. For some of us, it’s a pleasure to build and acquire and possess. A game. For others, it’s their life—they need to prove themselves, to redeem themselves.”
Christian’s eyes gleam. “My ventures are like my children. I will miss certain ones more than others. La Mer is a once-in-a-lifetime place.”
My heart kicks. “You own La Mer?”
“For thirty years. You’ve heard of it.” He looks genuinely pleased.
“It’s exquisite. I’ve always wanted to—” I cut myself off before saying “play there.” “Attend.”
“You must while you are here. As my guest, before I sell to one of its many suitors.” He hands me a card. “Give this to the men at the door, and we will let you in.” He pats my arm as we arrive at the bathroom door.
But as I thank him and head inside, my head is spinning.
Harrison’s here to see the man who owns La Mer, which can only mean one thing—he’s here trying to buy it.
This is what he’s been working on all week while he’s been avoiding me. Judging by how big this deal must be, I bet he’s been working on it far longer than that.
And what of his rival? Does the Ivanov family want La Mer just as much?
I know what it’s like to have your past snapping at your heels, but it’s bigger for Harrison.
If tonight is as important as it sounds, why did he go to such lengths to bring me as his date?
The only thing I can think is that I’d be a distraction for the other partygoers. A tacky novelty.
Except I remember the way his hand felt on my back. How genuine he sounded when he wanted to make sure I was okay.
Everything I learn about him makes me more confused, and more drawn to him.
I touch up my lipstick in the mirror, still surprised by the woman looking back at me.
She might not be a goddess, but she’s different than she was two weeks ago.
I have a career again. A club that’s starting to feel like mine, that’s doing better thanks to me.
I have people to smile and laugh with.
And tonight…
I have a date with a man who’s complicated and sexy and a worthy opponent.
Why not enjoy it a little?
My shoes are rubbing in all the wrong places as I head down the hallway, intent on finding Harrison.
His voice reaches my ears at the same time as the music far away. I can’t make out the words, but I spot him in a corner, speaking to a stunning blonde. She’s statuesque, like an old movie star with perfect hair and perfect curves.
It’s her voice I make out first. “It’s not the same without you.”
When she reaches for him, laying a hand on his face—that coolly untouchable face—every thought evaporates.
I watch them for a minute, my chest aching in protest as he murmurs a response too low to hear.
For a moment, on his arm, I felt as if this world was mine too. To borrow, if not to own.
But seeing Harrison in a moment of obvious intimacy with the woman I assume is his ex reminds me I’m an outsider.
I don’t know this man. I can’t, and I shouldn’t want to. Just because he’s capable of being close with someone doesn’t mean I should expect him to do anything other than hurt me or disappoint me.
I take off the uncomfortable shoes and leave them in a corner behind a potted plant. As I start down the hall, I run into Ash.
“You should’ve come with me, American Girl,” he tosses.
“I shouldn’t have come at all.”
His grin fades as I grab a drink off a passing tray.
“Tell him I’m heading out,” I say. “If he notices I’m gone.”
* * *
Harrison
I told myself I wouldn’t feel a thing the next time I saw her.
I was wrong.
“Do you remember how we used to lie out all day sunbathing in Monaco?” Eva asks.
It’s not as if I still care for her, but the echoes of it fill my chest when I thought I’d burnt them out and remind me of something important.
I’m capable of caring.
“Where is your date this evening?” I interrupt.
“Singapore. Or maybe Tokyo.” She waves a dismissive hand as if his absence makes him unworthy of discussion.
I glance past her. “If this is your attempt to keep me from speaking with Christian?—”
“Of course not! I hoped I’d see you tonight.”
Her soft pout used to get to me, but now, in the hall where she’s cornered me, I see only the manipulation beneath.
“Well, now you have. Give my regards to your new diversion for me.”
I brush past her down the hall, determined to find Christian.
Though my primary purpose tonight is to pin down our host, I can’t stop thinking about the woman who excused herself from my side twenty minutes ago and hasn’t returned since.
As I pass impeccably dressed guests in tuxes and dresses in every color of the rainbow, my mind flashes back to my reluctant date handling herself in the den of rich vipers.
I’d half expected the seething sullenness she’d graced me with more than once, but in this exclusive crowd, she was both gracious and assertive.
It pleased me.
Everything about her tonight pleased me from the second she stepped out of her room in that dress looking even more stunning than I’d expected.
After spending my mother’s birthday with Rae, I did avoid her for the better part of the week.
Not because she’d done something wrong—on the contrary, I was thinking about her too damned much.
But when I learned my brother planned to bring her tonight as his date, something inside me broke.
The same part of me that purred with satisfaction when I drew her against my side, caressed her back with my hand like it was my right.
None of it means anything. Not compared to the reason I’m here.
I force her from my mind as I reach the doors of the library, spotting my quarry inside surrounded by a circle of men.
“How good to see you, Harrison.” Christian’s gaze lands on me, and everyone parts to let me in.
I extend a hand, which he takes. That’s their cue to leave, and they depart.
“Let me guess,” Christian says, accepting a fresh drink from a waiter once the other guests have pulled the library doors closed behind them. “You’re here to talk about football?”
“I’ll leave that to my brother. No, I’m here to remind you that you’re going to sell me La Mer.”
He sighs. “Harrison… I’ve known you for two decades. Ambition has always been a strength. But as an old man, I’m telling you to find other things in your life. My children are my joy now. Did you meet my Sylvie?”
I mentally scan the faces from the party, vaguely recalling a pretty young woman who greeted us near the door. “Yes. Lovely.”
“She is. My other children are settled, but I worry for her.”
“The young have a way of surprising you. She’ll find her way.”
I glance out the window and spot the glowing orange dress, Rae’s dark hair in waves around her shoulders.
It’s refreshing to see her without a costume beyond the dress I chose for her.
But as she trips down the steps, alarm has my abs clenching.
Christian follows my gaze, making a sound of muffled surprise. “Perhaps we should finish this conversation another time.”
No. We should finish it now.
But as Rae reaches the curved driveway, my feet won’t cooperate.
“One moment.”
I head out to the hall, pushing through the crowds and ignoring anyone who tries to stop me.
Ash steps in front of me before I reach the front doors. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell my date she should stay until the end of the party?”
“She said she wished she hadn’t come.”
A sharpened spear sneaks under my ribs.
I shouldn’t fucking care what she thinks, but I’m angry. She said she’d come with me, and she’s turning her back on me at the first opportunity.
I shove past Ash and take the steps two at a time.
“Raegan.”
She turns, and I soak her in. This time it’s not the way she looks in that dress, though she’s stunning. It’s the expression on her face—hurt and disappointment.
Words always come easily, but now I’m reaching for them. “What happened to your shoes?”
She blinks up at me, ignoring the question. “The woman inside. Your ex, right?” Surprise slams into me, but she continues. “You could’ve brought her. It looked as if she would’ve been more than happy to come with you. Or leave with you.”
My mind races to process her frosty tone, settling on something as fascinating as it is improbable.
Is she jealous?
Raegan Madani? The woman who ruined her career to score a few points on me?
The possibility fucks me up in the best way.
“I get that the only reason you hired me was to play your club and make back what I cost you,” she goes on, and her dark eyes are big enough to swallow me whole. “But you do not get to dress me up and drag me here and use me like this.”
She points at her bare feet, and the red welts have me wincing.
“You should’ve told me the shoes didn’t fit.”
She shoves me, hard enough that I stagger. “I shouldn’t have worn them at all! Your stupid favor didn’t involve footwear. I came because I said I would, and I thought maybe you wanted me to come with you. Which is crazy. This is your world. These are your rich, entitled people. Enjoy them.”
I didn’t know I had the ability to hurt this woman. Even Eva, whom I thought I loved, proved to have an icy heart I could never penetrate. But this woman—this girl—who’s so extraordinary on a stage and is so stubborn off it…
It makes me wonder what other good things she hides beneath her tough exterior, pretending she cares for nothing and no one.
“I didn’t know she’d be here,” I say at last. “She left me for Mischa Ivanov. My rival, the man I hate.”
Her eyes widen with disbelief. “Your fiancée left you for the man who killed your parents?”
I nod. “She wanted a different kind of power than I offered.”
The light from the torches dances along the curved driveway, reflecting in her dark eyes. Emotions collide on her face.
Compassion.
Hurt.
I wish we were alone instead of here at this party.
Fuck it.
I close the distance between us, take her face in my hands.
The surge of adrenaline when I touch her, when we lock gazes, is real.
The pull between us is real.
There’s only one woman I wanted on my arm tonight. And since she left it, she’s been missed.
A familiar car pulls up the drive, pulling into her peripheral vision, and Rae steps back.
She reaches for the door, but I slam it shut with a hand.
“Don’t go,” I bite out. “If I’ve made you feel less in some way, I’m fucking sorry.”
I need her to understand how hard I’ve worked to get what I have, to keep it. That letting a person come between me and my revenge nearly cost me everything.
She pries my fingers off the door one at a time.
“Don’t be sorry, Harrison. Be better.”
As the car pulls away with her inside, I’m left feeling empty and frustrated in a way that has nothing to do with Christian and the deal.