19. Harrison
19
HARRISON
“Y ou were a difficult man to contact this weekend,” Christian says from the end of the dinner table.
“I spent a few days on a yacht.”
There are hints a man is mortal if you know where to look.
Tonight, the sirvia is overcooked.
When I bite into the fish, I know there’s a crack in Christian Geroux’s facade.
This weekend, I felt the cracks in myself with Rae. Spending time with her and her friends, I found myself caring less about my need to conquer and claim every property Mischa has so much as glanced at and more about her.
“I didn’t realize you were a seaman.” Mischa, opposite me, digs into his fish as if it’s still alive and he wishes it was.
Like me, he’s in a suit, his a gray so dark it’s nearly black. His pocket square is red. A signature. I heard a tailor once tried to influence his style. The man died of a heart attack the next week.
“He hates being on the water,” my ex weighs in from next to Mischa.
It’s the world’s most fucked-up dinner. Mischa, my ex, Christian, his wife, and their youngest daughter Sylvie.
We’re here to talk business, ostensibly to finalize plans for La Mer. But Christian’s not ready to divest or divulge anything until after dinner and drinks.
“So, what made you do it?” Christian muses. “I thought Harrison King did only what he wished.”
I reach for my vino blanco , but someone else answers first.
“A woman.”
We turn toward Sylvie.
“It’s the only reason other than business that a man does what he does not want to do,” she goes on. “Even business is in service of his ultimate pleasure.”
Perhaps she’s not as na?ve as I figured.
“Pursuing a woman is in service of a man’s ultimate pleasure too.” Mischa grins at my ex, who allows it, but she cuts a look at me the moment he drops her eyes.
I couldn’t care less about them tonight. For the past two days, I’ve let myself live in an alternate world. Seasickness aside, it was enthralling. Spending time with Rae’s group—most of them successful, all of them hardworking and earnest.
Rae was at the heart of it all.
Those dark eyes loaded with willfulness. Her soft curves making my hands burn to touch her.
That night on the deck, her jealousy over Sylvie was laughable.
It also made me hard as steel.
When Rae settled between my thighs, I couldn’t help myself. My hands trailed down between her legs, needing to know if she felt the scorching intensity I did.
The damp heaven I found there was the sweetest fucking temptation. The way she let me touch her, then rubbed against me for more.
It’s not only the promise of sex that captures me. It’s the way she challenges me. I can show her things, but she’s no wallflower. Every time I push her, she shoves back harder.
Most women want what I can give them—the trappings of my world.
Rae doesn’t want them.
I can’t buy her affection. Instead, I’m toiling for every inch of trust she parcels out in a muttered admission or an allowed touch.
I don’t know who hurt her in her life before she took my stage.
When I find out, I will bury them.
My parents were good people who provided everything for me and Ash. I’ll never be a saint, but thanks to their influence, I look after my own. A small group that expanded to include Rae while I wasn’t looking.
Her final show is coming up, and I’m not ready for it.
I don’t want her to go.
“At the risk of sounding patriarchal,” Christian says, his voice dragging me back, “the men will now talk business in the library.”
Our plates are cleared, my ex murmuring her appreciation. “The sirvia was excellent.”
Fucking liar.
Mischa and I follow Christian to the library, where we take seats.
Christian doesn’t waste time with more small talk. “La Mer is the jewel in my collection. Forty years ago, I would have dreamed about having two businessmen such as yourselves vying for it. Alas, men become greedy, and I am but a man. So, with two such suitors, I must weigh the relative offers.”
He shifts back in his leather chair. Despite the words, he enjoys holding court.
“There are day-to-day concerns with a club of this size. For instance, millions in revenues. I have a request of you both first. Consider it a practical test.”
I shift forward.
“We lost a performer due to unforeseen circumstances and must find someone suitable to put in his place. The long weekend.”
“The big producers have been booked for months. Years.” But my mind is already scanning through possibilities. Between Leni and me, we could probably call in a favor.
“I’ll find the perfect act.” Mischa’s teeth are bared in my direction, but not in a grin. He’d like to hurt me right now, but we’re not boys in school anymore. Even if he wanted to make this physical, he wouldn’t dare. It’s an unspoken rule that we fight our war with money and strategy, not with blades or blood.
Christian strokes his chin. “I would like to speak to each of you in turn about your vision for my venue. Mischa first. Harrison,” he goes on before I can argue, “allow my daughter to refresh your drink while you wait.”
I rise, fastening my jacket with one hand. Each stride toward the door is tight with frustration.
Sylvie greets me in the hallway with a tentative smile. “I’ll get you a drink from the kitchen.”
I follow her there and help by retrieving the bottle she wants from a shelf. The moment I set it on the counter, her mouth is on mine.
She’s innocent and determined, and I hold her arms gently as I push her away. “I can’t.”
Her expression caves. “You don’t find me attractive.”
“It’s not that. There’s someone else.”
The light in her eyes dies.
I pour a drink and hand it to her. “Perhaps you could use this more than me.”
She accepts it with a tiny nod.
I was going to pump her for information, but the sadness on her face makes me reconsider.
When did I go soft? I wonder as she heads toward the patio.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” A familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. “What a shame. You’d be perfect together.”
I turn to see my ex hovering in the hall.
Her blue cocktail dress compliments curves I once memorized. Now, Eva is a piece of art that doesn’t resonate—the objective quality is irrefutable, yet she leaves me cold and unmoved.
“I’d run right over her.”
“Precisely. You need a woman who lets you be the man you are.”
“Like you did?” I’m surprised to hear there’s no bitterness in my voice.
She frowns. “A woman who wants all of you will never have you. You are on this earth with a purpose, and you will die to fulfill it. You would never die for me.”
I smirk. “Who would’ve bought you jewelry if I had?”
“A woman who demands more from you… you’d wear one another down.”
I turn that over. “Perhaps that’s the point. Sanding one another’s roughest edges doesn’t make you weaker—it makes you better.”
The door of the study cracks down the hall, and I turn my back on Eva’s stunned expression.
“Mr. King?” Christian beckons, and I trade places with a smug-looking Mischa.
I ignore the seat my host offers, instead resting an elbow on the back of the armchair. “I have a DJ for La Mer. She’s young, but she’s talented. Capable. Charismatic.”
I tell him about Rae’s success filling the club while he listens thoughtfully.
“You are quite taken with her.”
“I’m confident she’ll be an asset to the stage.” I pause, unable to read him. “You want to hear my vision for the club? Here it is?—”
“Marry Sylvie and the club is yours.”
I’m stunned silent. Of the things I expected he’d ask in exchange for his club, this isn’t one of them.
Christian continues. “Not immediately, of course. Court her. Take what time you need. What time you both need. I worked hard on my business and my family. This club is like another of my children. I want to see it in the right hands.”
Sylvie’s attempts at seduction in the kitchen were sweet, if wholly misguided. But the man before me is serious.
I don’t point out the archaic nature of what he’s proposing—his child for his club. Clearly whatever her father said to her made her think I would be an attractive partner. And she’s not alone in that.
Women take a look at me and decide who and what I am, whether it’s money, an attractive package, a ticket to the right social circles.
I never had a problem with it.
I spent months engaged to a woman more caustic than Sylvie could ever be, one with ambitions that clashed with mine, though she hid them well. Christian’s daughter would be more loyal, and amenable.
But it’s none of those thoughts that has my body clenching in denial.
It’s the thought of another woman entirely.
One who sees what I am on the surface and insists I could be more.
One who wants me in spite of my money and power.
One I may never be with… but ruling that out entirely feels like a rip in my soul.
“I can’t be with your daughter, Christian,” I say at last. “She’s lovely and intelligent, and she’ll find someone well suited to her.” Without your help , I don’t add. “But that man isn’t me.”
He sighs. “That is indeed a disappointment. I was looking forward to the idea our empires might one day become one.”
He’s withdrawing. I feel it.
This can’t be over. I won’t lose La Mer this way.
Adrenaline pours through my veins.
“My parents were married in Ibiza,” I hear myself say. “A small ceremony.”
“I remember.”
“After, they danced on the beach in the place La Mer now stands. When it opened, they thought it the ideal place—not a club, but an altar. A slice of heaven where the sea meets the sky.”
Christian chuckles. “One you wish to possess.”
“One Mischa doesn’t deserve to.” There’s an edge of desperation to my voice. “He’s playing to your vanity.”
“And you to my morality? Surely there are better men for that.”
I circle the chair, shift onto the edge, and look the man dead in the eyes. “My father was your colleague. Your friend. You were business partners occasionally. Friends always.”
His gaze sharpens. “Friendship is easy to portray. A smile here. A handshake there. I’m sure there are moments you and Mischa could be mistaken for friends, in a polite room.”
The hairs on my neck rise. Was there bad blood between him and my father? If so, that’s news to me.
I regroup, vowing to get to the bottom of that later.
“Think about my recommendation. I stand behind her unreservedly.”
He rubs his chin, eyes altogether too knowing. “If you are certain she’s available, I will consider it.”
I nod. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Despite the unresolved nature of the La Mer deal, conviction surges through me.
Now, I have a reason to ask her to stay.
On my way out of the study, I nearly run into Mischa, who’s waiting in the hallway.
I don’t know how much he heard, but as I start down the hall, his dead eyes leave holes in my back.