19. Rae
19
RAE
B liss is full, but I’m on edge, scanning the crowd as I mix.
I’m still thinking of my date with Harrison last night. Dinner was a dream. We went back to his villa and stayed up on the patio until the early hours of the morning, where he laid a blanket down on the grass and we talked and touched under the stars.
It’s not as if everything is resolved between us, but he certainly wants to try. And he seems like a changed man.
Now, I’m back to the reality of playing the club where a woman died when it could have been prevented.
Which means there’s something I need to do.
As I finish, I catch sight of the owner.
After a few selfies, I wave off the crowd of fans and cut straight for the bar. The bartender pours me a drink, and the owner nods at me. I lift my glass to him, taking a long drink. “A woman died outside. A customer from last week.”
His eyes widen. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“You should. Mischa’s drugs killed her. And you let him in.”
His gaze cuts past my shoulder. When I follow the owner’s eyes, a hulking security guard nods to me.
“Go with him,” the owner says.
I stiffen. “Where?”
He doesn’t answer.
The hairs on my neck lift in warning, but I want to know where this leads. Maybe he’s decided he’ll talk to me after all.
I follow the security guard, my hand tightening on my phone to signal my own security.
We’re heading through the halls, and it’s quieter after the door to the club closes behind us. When we reach another door—a VIP room I remember from my tour when I arrived—the security guard opens it and holds it wide. I have no choice but to step inside.
The room is the size of a hotel suite, velvet furniture and curtains. A booth is along the far end, a bar on the wall nearest, but it’s the man at the center that draws all of my attention.
Mischa sprawls along the largest couch, wearing black trousers and a white shirt. His legs stretch in front of him, and there’s a woman on either side of him. If they’re not twins, they’re doing a damned good impression. One is completely naked, the other topless. They’re brunettes, unlike his fiancée.
Armed security watches from either corner of the room. They’re not club guards either. These men look hard, and they don’t move except for their eyes.
“Miss Madani.” Mischa’s lips curl.
My breath is shallow as I stop in front of the coffee table littered with pills and powder.
“If I’d known you were coming to my show, I would’ve played something for you.”
“Believe me, I was more than affected.” His eyes are blue, but gray-blue, like a dead sky.
I wonder what he sees. What he thinks about that makes him treat people like commodities.
“It’s a great club,” I say.
“That’s why I’m buying it.”
I whirl around to see the owner by the door. His face is downcast.
Mischa rises, ignoring the hands of the women trying to drag him back, and steps around the table.
“You’ve been moonlighting. At Harrison King’s club no less.”
Of course he knows about Debajo. It was all over social media, and though there are no new photos of us, there are conversations online speculating about Harrison and me getting back together.
If Mischa brought me here to hurt me, or to use me against Harrison, I wish he’d get the hell on with it.
“He made me an offer. Besides, my contract isn’t exclusive. I play where I want. If that means you’re not interested anymore?—“
“On the contrary. You were glowing. I can’t imagine a single woman in that filthy basement didn’t want to be you or that a single man didn’t want to own you,” the Russian says smoothly.
He stops inches away. Close enough I smell his cologne.
“Meaning what?” I force the words through my tight throat.
The first time I met him, he hit me. I have no doubt he’ll do that again, or worse, if it suits him.
We’re not in Harrison’s club anymore. This isn’t even neutral ground—security is his, and the man by the door won’t stop Mischa from doing anything he wants.
He brushes my hair behind my shoulder. Every inch of me tenses when he leans in, but I refuse to tremble.
“You, my Little Queen, will play for me. La Mer,” he whispers, and my head snaps up in shock. “One month from tonight.”
* * *
HARRISON
There’s a chance . Not a good one, but a sliver.
I’ve been reviewing documents for Kings—the ones I shelved months ago—to see if there’s a hope of reviving it.
Because the fire marshal won’t say for certain that I didn’t set fire to the club myself, the latest reports suggest insurance will cover only a small portion of the damages. But I could leverage capital from other projects and put it back together.
It feels worth hoping for.
My date with Raegan only solidified my convictions.
Once, I wanted revenge. Now, I want it done with so I can have a future with her.
Which is why I’ve compiled all the intel I’ve gathered on Ivanov and sent it to the authorities, including the inside information I didn’t trust them to use effectively.
I have enough resources to protect everyone I care about from Mischa until they figure out how to bring him down.
It’s the early hours of the morning, and I’m finishing a drink when I hear the car I sent for Raegan pull up the driveway.
Barney lifts his head from where he’s lying on the floor of my office. I rise from my chair and start for the door. When Raegan is around, I’m more eager than the damn dog.
She refused to have my security in her venue, so they waited outside, a call away.
I’m halfway down the hall when the villa door opens and she steps inside. My footsteps on the stairs have her looking up.
Her costume is intact, black leather shorts with a bodysuit beneath, showing off her long, curvy legs. The blond hair spills in waves over her shoulder, contrasting with her dark, lined eyes.
“You waited up,” she murmurs, stepping out of her heeled sandals.
I cross the floor to her, and the knot in my chest eases with each step. “Barney wouldn’t sleep until you returned,” I say.
Her eyes search mine, relief filling them. “You raid Sebastian’s closet?” she murmurs, taking in my appearance.
I’m barefoot in shorts and a polo, and I chuckle.
“Dry cleaning day,” I contend, unable to resist reaching for her. My hands thread into her hair as I claim her full mouth.
Her hand finds my chest, pressing over my heart. She lets me part her lips with my tongue, moans when I take the kiss deeper.
I want everything deeper with her. I’ve always been the one to push, and she’s been the one to hold me at a distance. But she’s not holding me at a distance now. She grabs the back of my shirt, then strokes up my back. Her touch heats my skin instantly.
We’re alone in this house. I want to fold her over the kitchen table, take her until she’s gripping the sides and groaning into the wood. Then carry her upstairs and love her in my bed.
Before I can, she pries her lips from mine.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
Her eyes turn glassy, and alarm sets in my gut. “Mischa wants me to play La Mer.”
I grip her arms, hard enough she flinches. No.
“He came to my show and?—“
“He spoke to you. In person.”
She nods.
My heart accelerates, a horrid thudding that sounds like my past and my future colliding.
If he laid a hand on her, I would drive to him this second and rip every limb from his body.
“Did he touch?—“
“Just my hair. I wanted to get the owner to turn on Mischa. But we were too late, if we ever had a chance at all. He’s selling.” She takes a slow breath. “The only thing I could think is Mischa saw me play at Debajo, and rather than turning him off, it made him…”
“Angry?”
“I was going to say jealous.”
Mischa pursued Eva because she was mine. Eva was beautiful and ambitious, though I now see she was a glittering facsimile of a gem.
Raegan is a different kind of jewel. The real kind. The rare kind.
Mischa is ruthless and arrogant, but he’s not stupid.
I knew he wanted to hurt Raegan in order to hurt me. But if there’s a chance that’s changed, and he wants her…
That’s a million times more dangerous.
I reach for the pins holding her hair in place. “You told him no?”
I finish unpinning her hair and drop the blond wig on the table with the pile of pins. I want to burn the wig. If Mischa breathed on it, I want it gone.
I turn back to the woman I love. I thread my fingers into her thick, silky hair, spreading it over her shoulders.
Still, she doesn’t answer.
The hairs on my arms lift. “Tell me you didn’t say yes.”
“This club is my dream.”
I grab her arms hard enough she flinches. “He’s doing it to fuck with me.”
“Not everything is about you.” The edge in her voice sets me back.
“This is,” I insist, thinking of the boy who hated me in school, the one who failed to recruit me to his cause, the man who’s never forgotten it. “You’re not playing for him.”
Her brows pull together, but she doesn’t try to move away. “What happened to you not making unilateral decisions?”
My laugh is humorless. “You’ve got to be kidding. I assumed you’d see the reason in not playing for a madman. One who knows you’re with me.”
“It’s the world’s most famous club, Harrison. I’ll be on stage. There’s nowhere safer.” Her chin juts out at me.
My abs clench, and the next breath I take is ragged. “I won’t sit idly by and watch you risk yourself for your career,” I whisper against her throat.
Raegan pulls back to look in my eyes. “You do it every day.”
That’s a low blow. A reminder there’s a double standard.
But I inherited this rivalry—she didn’t.
Last year, she was never in danger. Now, not only is she in Ibiza and playing for a monster, but he knows she’s mine. And there’s nothing the man lives for more than taking away what’s mine.
Minutes ago, I was handing this off to law enforcement and looking at our future. But I need to finish this first, and our timeline just shortened. I won’t let Rae play La Mer, not as long as that man owns it.
I can’t change her mind. I see it in the tilt of her chin, the warning in her eyes.
She’s the one forcing my hand.
Raegan starts to pull away, hurt. I don’t let her.
I lean in and thread my fingers into her hair, pressing my lips to her forehead. After a beat, her arms go around me.
I breathe her in, my heart a thudding against my ribs.
I will end him. I swear to God.