26. Harrison
26
HARRISON
“Y ou need to lie down.”
I look up from where I’m seated on the side of the hospital bed at the nurse’s voice.
“I’m fine,” I rasp, spreading my hands carefully to avoid jarring the IV in the back of one.
It’s been hours since I got here. I have no idea how many as I’ve been subjected to countless tests and questions. My lungs burn from the smoke. I’ve been turning over what happened.
How I arrived at my new club to see it engulfed in flames.
I ran inside to see if I could find the root of the damage.
Raegan appears in the doorway, dressed in clothes she must’ve pulled on in a hurry, her hair tugged up in a messy knot. Her face sags with relief when she sees me, before her brows pull together in concern.
“You’re here.” My words end on a cough. I grab water from the table, swallowing rapidly.
“I got to the club soon after you did.” Rae brushes past the nurse to my side.
I crumple the paper cup in my grip. “I told you to stay at the condo.”
The words are harsh, but she doesn’t flinch.
“I’m supposed to watch the man I love walk away? I don’t think so.” Her lips twitch. “Besides, you’re not as scary as you think you are.”
I glance down to take in the hospital gown. “Christ.”
“They were out of Brioni.”
My eyes narrow, but her fingers thread with mine, making the IV tug. It’s nothing compared to the pain to come.
“They said it wasn’t the sign,” she whispers, and if it’s possible, I feel worse at her expression of guilt.
“It wasn’t the sign,” I tell her firmly. The beautiful sign she arranged to have put up while I was distracted.
Unfortunately, that distraction had a price.
“But there’s no surveillance footage of any vehicles in the area, anyone who could’ve shown up to set the fire. They said they’ll canvass other businesses in the area to look for clues.”
“They won’t find anything.” My words are biting, and she flinches.
“Why not?”
“Because Mischa did this.”
Raegan’s dark eyes blink. “He has La Mer.”
“It’s not enough.”
Tonight, I realized how serious Mischa is.
This is more than business. It’s personal.
He won’t rest as long as I’m succeeding. As long as there’s a chance for my happiness.
She grabs a visitor’s chair and drags it to my bedside, perching on the edge. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out the book in its protective casing and hands it to me.
“They’re still going through the building,” she murmurs as I turn The Count of Monte Cristo in my hands. I managed to get to the office and retrieve it before the fire reached that part of the building. Thanks to its plastic casing, the book is relatively intact. “Leni’s figuring out how much can be salvaged, but I’ve never been so glad it’s a concrete brick. The bones are there, and the insurance should pay for the rest.”
The businessman in my brain says even if it does, we’re now months behind. We’ll be burning cash, possibly at unsustainable rates.
“None of that is the problem,” I say as I set the book in my lap. “ He is.”
The object of my vendetta, the one I was ready to set aside so I could have a life with the woman in front of me. He won’t let me set it aside.
Which means I have no hope of building the future I want, the one Raegan deserves, without stopping him.
“I have to leave LA.”
“Is your insurance in London?” She frowns. “I’m sure they can deal with it from here?—”
“It’s not about insurance.”
Her elbow leans on the edge of my bed, and I get a hit of her familiar scent. That, plus her closeness, send a pang of longing through me.
“Okay. I have some shows lined up, but I’ll cancel them if I need to.” She pulls out her phone. “As long as we need to get this figured out…”
I push the phone away. “I can’t take you with me.”
The phone slips out of her hands as she realizes my intention. “What do you mean? You said you wanted to move on. There are other good things.”
“Things like Kings?” I glance down at the book. “He burned it to the ground tonight.”
She grabs my face in her hands, lifts my gaze to hers. “I’ve spent my life hiding from my past. I’m not hiding from my future.” The cuff shines on her wrist. “I know it kills you that you can’t control him?—”
“This isn’t a joke, isn’t a game!” I’m shouting now, hoarsely. “This is real life.”
“I know it is. That’s why I’m not leaving.”
I think of the news I got about my parents, that they weren’t trying to escape the Ivanov’s business but to reinvest in it.
I wanted to deny it, but tonight in the ambulance, I felt the tiniest flint spark deep in my chest. The part of me built for survival woke up for the first time in a long time, possibly since my parents died.
If they were something other than the saints I made them out to be, then part of me is, too.
“But I am,” I say finally.
I was never meant to be a man who builds things…
I’m destined to be a man who destroys them.
I’m no better than Mischa Ivanov, only different.
Raegan’s lips part in disbelief. Her eyes work over mine, emotion spilling over, but beneath, she’s resolute. “In Denver, you gave me this, and you told me it meant you’d never go.” She reaches for the bracelet on her wrist, waiting for me to tell her I meant it. That I love her, and that our love matters more than anything else in this world.
“I was wrong.”
The words rip from my chest, and saying them is itself an act of destruction.
I see it on her face, in the way her shoulders tighten.
I’m hurting her. The person I love most is sitting in front of me and I’m destroying her.
The pain in my chest is so sharp, so sudden, I wonder if this is what a heart attack feels like.
Fucking stop this , a voice demands. But I close it in an iron fist.
Something lands on the bed next to me. With a last look, Raegan rises from her chair and speaks to the nurse before starting down the hall.
I can’t breathe again, but there’s nothing the machines can do for me.
My gaze lowers to the shimmering circle next to me on the bed.
The inscription stands in relief against the gold.
My Queen .
This is wrong. All wrong.
One at a time, I pry off the leads attached to my chest, tossing them aside. The machine they belong to emits a single beep of complaint. Next, I shove myself out of bed, the IV tugging itself from my hand.
“Mr. King!” the nurse says from the doorway, sounding alarmed. “You could aggravate your condition.”
“You know nothing about my condition.” I spit out the words as I stalk past her and down the hall, the tile cold on my bare feet.
I don’t care that I’m wearing next to nothing. Don’t give a shit what anyone sees. The wrongness in my gut drives me forward, past the burning in my lungs.
At the end of the hall, I’m breathing heavily.
But there’s no sight of her.