9. Harrison
9
HARRISON
M arina Botafoch is a playground for the rich and one of two docking ports for megayachts.
I wasn’t thinking of Raegan when I took one of the cars and came down here after sending her back to her hotel. Now, I’m remembering the time we walked around the harbor together. A year ago, we strolled along this same boardwalk, her asking me questions about the boats.
Weeks later, I chartered her one for one of the best weekends of my life. I’d spend the rest of my life on the damned seas, my stomach rolling with the waves, if it made her smile.
She reappeared in my life yesterday, and she’s already leaving it again. I barely got her back, and she’s gone.
“Mischa and Zachary never promised to love me before they hurt me.”
I hoped in time she’d understand why I left. Now, she sees how dangerous Mischa is… and she still blames me.
I hurt her. But Mischa is capable of ending lives. She must see how much worse that is. How our happiness can’t possibly be realized until he’s gone.
Regardless, the idea of her being in the same room with the man who’s ruined lives and ended others has my gut cold with panic. I can’t make decisions from panic.
A young boy playing chase with a friend runs into me, calling out an apology over his shoulder as he continues along his way.
“Harrison.” A familiar voice has me turning.
“Christian.”
He extends a hand, and I hesitate only a second before taking it.
“Perhaps retirement doesn’t agree with you? You look older.”
“We all do this year.”
“I heard you’ve been spending most of your time in Paris.”
“We are visiting.” Christian nods toward a yacht. From this angle, the shiny, white object looks roughly the size of one of Sebastian’s football pitches.
“A new prize.” I zero in on the name, the Bijou . “Your former jewel has made way for a new one. Looks like the disposal of La Mer was profitable.” My words are laced with recrimination.
“In some ways,” he says cryptically. “Have a drink with me.”
We’re not friends or business acquaintances anymore, but given what I learned from Rae, things are escalating with Mischa’s business in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I’m not ready to turn away possible allies, even if I don’t trust them, which is why I asked to meet Christian.
My abs clench as I follow him onto the yacht.
Is this how my brother feels about talking with law enforcement? He acted nervous when I put him in touch with my contact, but he promised to share what he knew. Whatever insights he refuses to share with me.
I’m still angry Sebastian wouldn’t tell me—there seems to be a lot of that going around—and that I had to act on good faith. But he didn’t give me much choice.
I pull up short when I see the young woman sunbathing.
She rolls over and spots me. “Harrison!” She sits up, pulling a towel across her bare chest.
“Sylvie. I hope you’re well.”
A man—boy?—lies next to her, frowning protectively.
“I finished university,” she says. “Papa said my boyfriend could come on holiday with us.”
The man-boy’s face relaxes a little at this reinforcement. I hide my smile.
“How nice for you both.” With a nod, I follow Christian across the deck.
“He’s immature and impulsive and dotes far too much,” Christian mutters.
“He’s perfect for her.”
We take seats at a table at the far end of the yacht, and an attendant immediately brings Christian a cold drink, offering me one as well. I wave him off. From here, we have an uninterrupted view of the sea in one direction and the harbor from the other, white and blue and dotted with color.
“What do you have for me?”
Christian sips his drink. “Advice. I want Mischa gone too.”
I arch a brow. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you.”
“What happened last summer was unfortunate. Ivanov threatened Sylvie.”
My hands fist under the table. Since LA, I’ve wondered if that might’ve been why he changed his mind so quickly about selling La Mer to Mischa.
Christian adds, “At one point in my life, I might have gone toe to toe with him. But I’m too old for a war and too old to risk what I’ve made on one.”
Sylvie’s laughter carries on the breeze from the other end of the boat. Evidently the man-boy is serving his purpose.
“So, it wasn’t because of my parents. Who they were.”
My host sighs. “No.”
I shift out of my chair and cross to the railing. “Then I found out they were liars and criminals for nothing.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he follows, leaning both elbows on the railing next to me. “Not for nothing, Harrison. You are strong enough to know the truth. To make your own way.”
I turn toward him. “I was making my own way.”
“You were making theirs. Doing what you thought they wanted, needed. You reinforced that lesson for me when you turned down Sylvie last year. Young people need to find their own way.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m not young.”
“Because you never let yourself be. When they died, you took on a challenge they never asked you to.”
My next breath is harder than the last despite the fresh air. “I needed to provide for my brother. To prove that I could be the man they hoped.”
“You were. They wanted better for you. By choosing to stay away from Mischa’s company when they pursued you, you chose the right path. You didn’t owe them a single thing after that.”
“I need to fight him.”
He shakes his head. “If you’re going to fight, don’t fight for something ugly. Fight for something beautiful.”
I think of Kings, a hollowed-out shell. “I don’t have anything beautiful to fight for anymore.”
“Don’t you? How is your lovely American?”
My head snaps around.
“Sylvie pointed out that you two are no longer together. She reads the papers,” he explains. “But then, my wife and I had a period of separation. All it accomplished was proving two things: that she was right and I was lonely.” His eyes crinkle at the corners.
My fingers flex on the railing. I still don’t trust Christian, and having Rae and I publicly linked is a bad idea for her safety.
“She’s playing in Ibiza this summer.”
Christian nods. “He understands many things, but not love. Keep it from him.”
“Then help me end this fast.” I can’t keep the urgency out of my voice. “I need information.”
He hesitates, glancing toward the laughter of his daughter and her boyfriend. “I still have much at stake.”
In that moment, I realize the truth. Christian is an old man who likes to talk, to feel important, but when it comes to doing important things, he’s a coward.
I shove myself off the railing.
“Where are you going?” Christian calls after me.
“What I know about war is this—most people don’t have the luxury of choosing whether they’re involved. They can’t sell their stake and disappear with their families.” I gesture pointedly at the yacht, and he folds his arms.
“I can’t help you the way you would like.”
I turn my back on him. “Call me when you can.”