6. Harrison
6
HARRISON
“H ope the construction outside didn’t give you too much trouble. They’ve been working on that intersection forever. I’m Zack.”
“Harrison.”
The kid who heads up the zoning department for this part of LA shakes my hand. He’s probably thirty, clean-cut, smells like ambition and family money. I don’t need to look inside his head to know for him this is a stop on the way to something bigger.
Mayor. Governor. Maybe senator.
“I understand you’re looking to develop a property in Burbank.”
“It should’ve been zoned commercial. Everything around it is. I trust it will be straightforward after the hearing to approve the request so we can move forward with construction.”
“Unfortunately, our hearing process has been delayed. We need to move yours back six weeks.”
Unacceptable.
The delay will put me behind Mischa’s expansion and cost me money. Every damn day this building sits empty costs money.
“This is a priority. I have significant stakes riding on finishing this on time.”
He jams his hands in his pockets, eyes crinkling at the corners.
It’s not a smile—it’s a warning.
“I don’t know how fast things move in the UK, but there can be hang-ups in California and the planning office has limited resources. We advise developers to anticipate sufficient time for approvals.”
Fucker.
He’s one of those types. The ones who hear I’m coming and want to make my life hell.
“If it’s resources you’re short, I’m sure we can expedite things.”
“Just because you have money doesn’t make it fast.”
The rest of the meeting goes about the same, and by the time I leave, I’m in a bad mood. I slam a fist into the brick outside before heading to my car.
This new venue is my best investment to grow my company until I can clear my parents’ names and convince Christian to sell me La Mer.
The entire drive back to my penthouse condo in one of LA’s best hotels, I’m clenching the steering wheel.
I toss the keys to the valet and head up to my condo.
I bought the suite three years ago. Its stunning skyline and modern décor are lost on me as I toss my tie on a chair and strip down, heading for the shower.
The water makes my agitation worse.
Is it possible I was off my game?
More than once today, I’ve caught myself thinking of Raegan’s mouth.
How I’d like to taste her everywhere else.
Whom she’s going to dinner with.
When I get out and towel off, there’s a buzzing in the back of my brain I can’t ignore. I grab my phone and check Beck’s social media.
Good food, better company .
The image shows Beck grinning, his arm around a woman with her hand in front of her face. But her amused smile is visible and, for me, recognizable.
My abs clench.
When she said she had a dinner she couldn’t change, I assumed she meant it was something important.
Unless he’s more important to her than me.
The napkins on the table, deep plum, edge into the frame. I stalk to the kitchen and yank open the top drawer to find the same napkins.
But I can’t get over the way she’s smiling in the picture. I can’t remember making her smile like that.
On impulse, I veer away from the closet full of designer suits.
Instead, I choose trousers and a gray shirt, fasten the cuffs.
Top button?
I undo it.
Better.
I take the elevator downstairs and head for the restaurant.
It’s full of stunning couples and small groups. It’s one couple I’m looking for. I don’t see her, but I spot his dark head.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The casual shirt can’t hide the agitation beneath the surface.
Cutting the ma?tre d’ a look that brooks no argument, I head back to the table.
“We’re good on wine, thank… you.” Beck’s brows lift as I sink into the chair across from him.
“You’re the dinner date.”
He spreads his hands. “Guilty as charged.”
My gaze runs over the tablecloth. They’ve eaten their entrees, and a single dessert menu rests between the two place settings.
“We’re sharing,” he drawls at my look.
I came down to see her, but I want to hit him. “You’re not going to keep her.”
Beck cuts a look behind him before leaning an elbow along the back of his chair. “She’s not a tea set. You might be a king in London, but this is LA, my friend.”
I take him in, dragging my gaze slowly from his white sneakers to his designer jeans to his button-down and too-long dark hair. “We’re not friends. But you don’t want to be my enemy.”
He leans closer. “Rae’s my girl, and I don’t need to fuck her to prove it. I will, however, ask the waiter to hold my phone while I use a butter knife to cut your limbs off and stuff them in any available orifice if you hurt her.”
I’m still reappraising the man when Rae’s startled voice cuts the tension.
“What the hell is going on?”
She’s beautiful. Even the dark shadows around her eyes that I want to erase. The dress is orange, the color of the one she wore to Christian’s gala, only shorter. It’s as casual as the other was formal, with a scooped neck and a hem that ends halfway down her thighs.
“I decided to pick you up rather than meeting you at the club. Simple, seeing as you’re eating at my hotel.”
Wariness edges into her expression. “You’re staying here?”
“I own the penthouse.”
Rae’s attention doesn’t budge from me, but Beck chuckles behind his napkin. “There’s an easy way to settle this.” Now we both look at him. “Join us for dessert.”
The waitress is at my side in an instant, eyes widening in recognition. “Mr. King. I’ll bring you a whisky.”
“And a chocolate mousse. Three spoons,” Beck drawls.
She disappears.
“Rae and I were just discussing her next move,” our smug host says.
She shoots him a warning look.
“She’s opening my new club,” I say.
“This is bigger. Wild Fest.”
“Red Rocks amphitheater in Colorado,” Rae says, shifting in her seat. “Massive outdoor event, record-breaking despite being in its third season.”
“Fourth season,” I correct.
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Of course I’ve heard of it.”
“We’re still figuring out her audition tape,” Beck says.
My brows lift. “They want an actual tape?”
“Beck’s talking metaphorically. It’s competitive.”
It’s rational she would focus on a prize like that, but I’m still irritated she’s spending her evening brainstorming with Beck while I was off my game because I couldn’t clear my head of her.
The waitress returns with my whisky, plus dessert. Beck reaches for a spoon and dives in with an appreciative wink for the waitress, which has her flushing as she leaves.
Is this what Rae is into? Some Hollywood wannabe who’s my brother’s age?
She’s not the woman I thought she was .
“How was your day, Harry?” Beck asks.
I ignore the nickname and swirl my drink before taking a sip. “I was preoccupied by a problem I need to resolve.”
The problem being the woman in front of me.
I shift in my chair, and my knee brushes Rae’s.
She jerks in her seat and her spoon clatters off her plate, falling to the carpet.
“Beck, would you excuse us?” Rae says tightly when she straightens from picking up her utensil.
Beck looks between us in amusement.
“You know, this has been fun.” He rises and rounds to hug Raegan, who tries to glare at him.
“Let me get you another spoon,” I say when he’s gone.
I shift out of my seat to seek out new cutlery, heading toward the kitchen. I overhear our waitress talking with another whose voice I recognize. She’s served me before, and I try to recall her name.
“I wasn’t planning on the double shift, but when someone calls in sick, you have to,” she says quietly to the other waitress. “Now I’m not sure I have time to walk home before my kid gets back from his dad’s, but I can’t afford to take a car.”
Melanie. Madison. Mary…
“Maria,” I say.
“Mr. King.” She straightens, flushing. “I’m so sorry if we were too loud.”
“Not at all.” I order a town car while she watches, slack-jawed. “It’ll be here in five minutes,” I say when I hang up. “Take it wherever you need. The charges are on my account. Could I get a spoon?”
She runs to grab one, murmuring thanks as she passes it to me.
I shift back into my seat and hold out the spoon to Rae. She takes it, her gaze holding mine long enough that I wonder if she overheard the exchange.
“We have unfinished business.”
“And it couldn’t wait.”
“No.”
Rae shifts back in her seat, scanning the room behind me.
I see her shut down, feel it in her body language. It pisses me off that she can pull away emotionally while she’s still within reach.
I like to come across as in control because I’ve had to, which only highlights how painfully ill-equipped I am to deal with her .
There’s no reason for me to feel out of place in this restaurant full of attractive Angelenos in their West Coast business casual. But I do. It took everything in me to walk out the door without a jacket.
And I did it for Raegan.
“I’m trying to help both of us, but you’re making it exceedingly difficult,” I state.
Now I have her attention. She leans in, eyes flashing as if she can burn me from the inside out. “Really? Because so far, every time I’m near you, I get holes shot in my reputation and my career. You don’t get to show up here and demand I follow your rules. There’s no contract this time. Who do you think you are?”
I pick up my drink and drain it. “A man who keeps asking why the fuck he bothers.”
She rises from her seat and she stares at me with eyes full of fire. “Then stop.”
Before Raegan reaches the door, I’m on my feet.