by Piper Lawson
My heart kicked. Part of me wanted to believe it was true, not only for his sake but for mine.
I fell asleep soon after but woke still thinking of him.
“Something arrived for you before the interview,” the reporter says slyly, bringing me back. “Would you like to see it?”
I straighten in my seat, surprised.
One of the crew brings out pink tiger lilies, and I take them, awkwardly shifting to grab the envelope and slide out the card. I read the single phrase written on the white paper.
Take no prisoners.
My body explodes into tingles as if Harrison himself brushed my hair back and whispered the words against my ear.
“You have an admirer. Well, you have lots of them,” the interviewer amends, grinning at the crowd. “This looks like a special one.”
Awareness has the hairs on my neck lifting despite the heat.
Harrison’s watching.
Flowers could be construed as not backing down, but he’d argue they’re just for support.
Too bad him being sweet is as destructive as a full-on assault on my body and my heart.
I tuck the card away. If I say I’m seeing someone, it’ll raise suspicion. But when she goes on, my task gets infinitely harder.
“You were linked to Harrison King last year. First in Ibiza, later in LA. Do you think he sent the flowers?”
I turn over my thoughts, knowing he’s watching. I shouldn’t say anything, but I can’t resist. “He’s a fighter, not a lover.”
“Is that what came between you?”
My smile fades. “A lot of things came between us. But I’m a different person now.”
They think I mean a person who wouldn’t date Harrison. But that’s not it.
I’m a person who can handle the heat. Who can go toe to toe with not only Harrison, but anyone who threatens me and the people I care about.
“What’s next for Little Queen?”
“My residency runs another month. And…” An idea clicks into place. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this.” I sweep a coy look over the crowd and see every damn person lean in or bounce on their toes. “I’m working on something special, one night only, at the club everyone comes to Ibiza for.”
Screams erupt. Squeals and shouts of “Yes!” and “La Mer!”
“When?” another person hollers when the initial noise dies down.
“I can’t talk about it,” I say apologetically.
After finishing the show and taking a few selfies with fans, I change in the venue’s bathroom before I head out the back door.
A long, black car pulls up in front of the alley.
Rude.
I go to move around the back of the car, but it reverses so I can’t.
The front window buzzes down to reveal the driver, a severe-looking man in a suit. “Get in.”
Russian accent. My spine stiffens.
“Who the hell are you?” Even though I already know.
He holds out a phone showing La Mer’s social media page, where everyone is asking when I’m playing. My heart thuds, hiding the first hint of satisfaction in days.
“You tell me where I’m going and I’ll get my own ride,” I say.
“You want to work for him, you’ll get in.”
“Once I work for him, maybe I will. Now what’s the address?”
I pull up outside La Mer and shift out. For a moment, I wish Harrison was here. But he wouldn’t let me come, and I can handle this myself.
A huge security guard meets me at the door, and I start to go through it. He blocks my way and holds out his arms, motioning for me to do the same.
“You’re joking.”
A brusque headshake.
The impulse to run is still there, but it’s the middle of the day in an outdoor venue.
His venue.
I follow instructions, and the man pats me down before jerking his head toward the hallway. I follow him down it, realizing halfway through that I’m holding my breath.
Excitement starts to outweigh the nerves as we emerge into the main area.
It feels like a circus ring.
Or maybe a coliseum.
Bars line the perimeter. The stage is at the center, an altar for revelers to worship at.
The lights are rigged into the sides, a sophisticated network of technology.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
The cold voice has me whipping around to see Mischa emerge from another corridor. I haven’t seen him since the day I went to see him.
“I don’t wait around for things to happen. I thought you didn’t either,” I comment.
He stops in front of me, inches away. I force myself not to back up.
He grins suddenly. “You need the money? You should’ve kept King around after all.”
“Do I look like I need money?” I glance back toward the sports car I rented. “I’ve always had a soft spot for this place.”
Mischa prowls around me. “Personal memories?”
I think of dancing here with Harrison, him kissing me for the first time. But I say, “This is the biggest gig there is. I fucking want it.”
His rasp of laughter scrapes over my skin. “And you will do me a favor by playing here?”
I hold up my phone. “After my interview, you had three hundred comments in an hour asking when I’m playing. By tonight, you’ll have a thousand.”
“I don’t like people forcing my hand.”
“Really? I think you do.”
“Are you almost finished?” a feminine voice calls from behind me.
I turn to see a familiar blond woman emerge from the same hallway Mischa did.
“We haven’t formally met.” She wears a smile that’s bigger than her companion’s but no warmer. A thin veneer of cordiality sheathing a viper’s fangs. “I’m Eva.”
“Raegan.”
“I thought it was Tiny Princess?”
“Little Queen,” I correct.
The smile is still in place. “I suppose we have something in common now.”
I survey her form in surprise.
“We both survived Harrison King.” She holds out a hand. “There’s hope for you yet.”
Her huge diamond blinks in the light.
“Congratulations. Is this new?”
“Just this week,” she confirms. “I trust you haven’t seen Harrison in some time?”
I shrug. “Why would I?” It’s a bad idea to let on that we’ve been talking. Or fucking. Mischa might misconstrue that as us getting back together, which would mean my loyalties might have shifted.
“But you’ve seen his brother. You went to an event together.”
I turn to face Eva, new wariness setting up in my gut.
“I saw Sebastian recently in London too. A few months ago. He joined some friends in a VIP room.”
The pieces click into place.
This bitch is what Ash wanted to keep from Harrison. She pushed the drugs on Ash.
“Sounds like a party,” I say, matching my smile to hers.
“Too bad you missed it.”
My pulse is heavy against my ribs, either from the thrill of this place or my hatred of these people. “What would be too bad is you missing out on me playing here.”
Mischa’s shrewd eyes narrow on me. “Why is that?”
“Because your family has been in this business a long time.“ I purposely don’t allude to the drugs. “Do you know what that means?”
“It means I am powerful.”
“It means you’re the past. I’m the future.”
I sense the surprise in him that I would dare to speak to him this way. It’s an opening. One no person in their right mind would use.
Take no prisoners.
Mischa is like Harrison in some ways—egotistical, demanding. But without all of Harrison’s graces.
So, I know how to provoke him.
I turn back to the venue, sweeping my gaze over the dance floor. “Men who build theaters like to ado
rn them with gold and velvet to trick the audience into believing the venue is the spectacle. But no matter how comfortable the chairs, how gilded the balconies, it’s still only a blank canvas. A theater is only as good as its performers.” I close my eyes, take a deep breath of the sunlight and the fresh air. This place will transform at night, become something else, like I do. “I can’t tell you how many people have tried to keep me off stages like this one. But they won’t.”
Mischa watches me like a predator surveying its prey. “And why is that?”
I step closer, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The man before me is dangerous. As skilled as Harrison at business, more talented at manipulation, without the reservations about hurting people.
But I can be dangerous too.
“Because when I’m up there?” I nod my chin toward the stage. “They can’t fucking look away.”
Mischa’s nostrils flare. Blue eyes glow like cold embers, dragging down my body. The top and jeans cover most of my skin, but under his attention, I feel bare.
Blood pounds in my veins, fear and adrenaline. I’m no longer chasing. I’m being chased.
Eva knows it too. She’s at his side in an instant, her arm threading possessively through his.
“Your manager has my rates and terms,” I say to Mischa once his gaze returns to mine. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
I haven’t won, but as I square my shoulders and head for the exit, I know I’ve done something very brave or very foolish.
13
Harrison
I’ve never watched a movie over again in my life, but I’m watching Rae’s interview for the third time.
The moment the flowers come in and she reads the card, I see it.
Her lips curve the tiniest bit.
Fuck me.
I’m a fucking teenager sending his date a corsage.
A smile.
The texts yesterday out of the blue, which mean she’s thinking of me.
It’s like the tiniest interaction with her, the slightest tease of emotion, is my oasis in the desert.
I’m taking a break from entertaining guests at Debajo, which is still packed a year after Raegan took on the challenge of reinventing it. The DJ tonight isn’t her, but he has the near-capacity crowd captivated nonetheless.
Spending eight months on opposite sides of the globe was one thing. But now she’s here, and I can as easily ignore her as I can ignore my own need for oxygen.
She asked me to back down. I won’t force myself on her, but I won’t stop protecting her. I won’t stop loving her.
Earlier in the week, she called me when she found that woman after her set. I’m glad she did. Even if I can’t shake the feeling of seeing that crumpled form, even if it brought up memories of my parents’ deaths. I got to hold her in the back of the car, see her eyes damp with the tears she never lets fall.
It made me realize something…
Raegan’s strength is my damn weakness.
My phone rings.
“King,” I shout over the music as I rise from the leather bench.
The voice on the other line belongs to my investigator in London. “Figured you’d want to hear about the sting police tried to run on Mischa’s venue here last night.”
I excuse myself from the VIPs in my booth—a handful of investors, plus twin celebrity actresses.
“What happened?” I demand, pressing my other hand to my ear to listen over the music as I cross the catwalk and head for the stairs.
Security holds the door, and the next second, I’m in the quiet hallway leading to the VIP room.
The man on the phone sighs. “A source suggested there was a big deal going down. What they found was a poor cousin of that. And the guy involved… some small-time dealer with no links to Ivanov.”
Either the police fucked up, or Mischa knew they were coming.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “A tourist ODed here the other night and nearly died. Not uncommon, but the drugs were cut with something. Doctors wouldn’t disclose, but it was something bad.”
He hesitates.
“Our surveillance of Ivanov saw a woman arrive at La Mer earlier today shortly after Mischa did.”
I shake my head, impatient. “And?”
“It was Miss Madani.”
My hand has a death grip on the phone.
“We couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were meeting about, so we can only speculate—“
“I fucking know what they were meeting about.”
I hang up and drop into an armchair in the VIP room. It’s quiet tonight, just the bartender who left the moment I waved him away.
How the hell could she visit Mischa?
I want to storm her hotel suite again. I’ll lock her up in my villa until this is all over. But something tells me she won’t be nearly as welcoming as she was last time, and that landed me with a bruised cheek for two days.
Since my brother and I went through our parents’ belongings, I’ve been wondering how much damage I did unnecessarily to people I love.
Maybe if I can destroy Mischa, I’ll have another shot with Rae too.
I replay the video of her getting the flowers and watch her try not to smile once more.
“Huh. I knew you were getting old, but napping? For real?”
I straighten and open my eyes to see a welcome sight. My right-hand woman stands in the doorway with her hands on her waist.
“Leni. Christ.”
“Evening, boss.”
I rise and cross to my friend, clasping her in a hard embrace.
“If I’d known you were this strung-out, I would’ve come sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Told you. Vacation. My cabana boy licked the sand out of my toes and—“
“I’m sorry I asked.” I hold up a hand, and she grins.
I cross to the door, shutting it to ensure we have extra privacy. “We need to take Mischa down.”
“His goons are selling outside. Pulled a knife on me, but I chased them off.”
Alarm works through me. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. I knew one of ‘em from last summer and told him what I’d do with his balls if he tried selling here again. New manager pissed himself when he saw the blade.”
I think of the guy Leni put in place once the club was made profitable last year and she accompanied me to LA. I vow to replace him immediately.
“It’s not only about Kings, Leni. His reach has broadened. He’s in America. In London. He’s running drugs through other owners’ clubs here, forcing them to turn a blind eye, then blackmailing them after. Interpol has been working to link him to narcotics activities, but they’ve cocked it up.”
She leans in. “So, what do we do?”
“We need to strike him close to home. Everywhere his parents built up, he’s well protected. Hundreds of employees without contracts who get fed only the bare minimum info. Whom he can deny having any knowledge of if it comes up. It’s the perfect business. But he’s not as smart as his parents, which means there’s an opening. We need options, and we need to move fast.”
“You want to play cop, Harrison? Never figured you for the polyester-and-a-badge sort.”
I narrow my gaze. “Raegan came to Ibiza to book La Mer.”
Leni’s eyes round. “Oh shit.”
Her expression says she knows exactly what that means—that the woman I love is working with the most dangerous man I know.
“She’s met with Mischa. Twice,” I bite out.
“Have you told her not to?”
“Of course.”
She grimaces. “Bad idea.”
“What?” I demand.
“Let’s see. You guys broke up last year—“
“Separated.“
“Whatever—because you were an unreasonable prick after Mischa went all pyro on your new project.”
“So, a Russian madman responsible for my parents’ deaths burns down a ten-million-d
ollar project and I’m unreasonable?”
“With her, yes. She’s more likely to do something if you tell her not to.”
I drop my head in my hands and tug on my hair hard enough my scalp aches. “What is it with women?”
“Brains, empathy, and pussies,” she fires back. “It’s worth taking the time to figure them out. Don’t go anywhere.” She claps me on the shoulder as she rises and crosses to the bar, where she grabs the good whisky and pours a single glass on ice.
“None for you?” I demand as she brings it back to me.
“I’ll come back for mine. First, I’m going to go talk your manager down from the ledge.”
14
Rae
“You buy those?”
I look up from my computer as Ash enters the suite, juggling a ball between his knees.
“Buy what?” I ask.
“The flowers.”
I look at the lilies from Harrison that I’ve moved around the hotel room no less than five times. “No. They were a gift.”
After doing the interview yesterday and going to La Mer to see the Russian homewrecker and his happily wrecked now-fiancée, I’m trying to enjoy a day to myself.
Instead, I’m questioning whether I made a grave miscalculation by going after Mischa so aggressively.
“We have company,” Ash goes on with a grin.
I straighten in my seat at the kitchen table, tugging on the hem of my threadbare tank top. Is Harrison here?
Ash holds the door, and the guy from the gala, Gavin, follows him in.
“Hey.” The man gives me a wave every bit as casual as his messy-on-purpose brown hair and his easy grin.
If he recognizes me from the event, he doesn’t let on. Or maybe Ash told him we’re nothing.
“Excuse us.” I grab Ash and tug him out to the patio, shutting the door. “This a good idea?”
“Have you seen him?” He tosses an appreciative look at the man, who’s perusing the coffee table magazines. “Plus, he came here for me.”
I lift my hands. “Last time, the way he acted sent you spinning out. You deserve someone great, Ash, and I don’t like how he treated you.”
“S’alright,” he murmurs. “Gavin is about to make it up to me.” He ruffles my hair. “But thanks.”