Beautiful Ruin (The Enemies Trilogy Book 3)

by Piper Lawson

  Her gaze narrows. “I need to get dressed.”

  “Need help choosing an outfit?” Sebastian offers from the floor. “The two you talked about on the plane sound good, but I’d like to see them in person.”

  I could hit him again.

  “Both of you stay out,” she tells my brother before turning that hot gaze on me again. “If someone so much as knocks on the door while I’m getting ready, I will tear them a new one.”

  She heads back down the hall, her hips swinging under the towel in a way that has me furious and horny at once.

  “If we’re done with the violence, you could buy me dinner,” Sebastian says, grimacing at the mushy cereal pieces on the carpet.

  When I came here, I thought I knew my intention—reminding my brother he has no business with this woman. But looking at her, sharing space with her, kissing her…

  I know it was a lie. I need Raegan Madani in my life again, and it can’t wait until my work is done.

  5

  Rae

  “Need anything?” security half mouths, half yells over the music at my gig.

  I shake my head. “No. Why?”

  He glances at my setup, and I realize my track’s getting stale.

  Shit. It happened again. I was staring off into space.

  My set at Wild Fest had my full attention, but before that, I caught myself doing this more than usual. Now, thanks to a stop I made earlier today and Harrison showing up at my hotel, my mind is running overtime.

  What kind of man barges into your hotel and kisses you?

  The same kind who buys and sells clubs like candy.

  The kind who drags around a vendetta, who wears a suit as if it’s armor, and when he smirks, panties drop in a ten-mile radius.

  I thought it wasn’t possible to miss Harrison more than I did these past months, burying it under work and my Little Queen costume. But when he appeared in the living room of the hotel suite Ash rented, rumpled and furious, longing hit me so hard I nearly launched myself at him.

  I shoved it down, reminding myself we’re on different paths. He’s on one he chose over me.

  Explicitly.

  Remorselessly.

  I change the song, segueing into something with a bassline that matches the throbbing in my stomach, and a new wave of energy grips the crowd when they recognize it.

  He had no right to kiss me. But from the second his lips crashed down on mine, I was transported to a time and place where I would’ve done anything for him. For a moment, I forgot everything we aren’t, and the friction of his lips and tongue was enough.

  If he hadn’t pulled back, who knows how long it would’ve taken for reality to set in?

  I shake myself again. I came to Ibiza for work. Both the meeting I secretly took this afternoon, not even letting Ash in on it, and the series of shows I agreed to play at this club for part of the summer.

  Harrison King is not part of the plan.

  What if he’s staying?

  A shiver runs through me. I hadn’t anticipated that because the reason he wanted to be here—La Mer—is no longer in play. There’s no possible explanation for his appearance unless he wants an extended vacation.

  As I hit the next transition, a familiar face in back corner of the club has me doing a double take.

  Blond hair, buzzed short. A distinctive profile and hunched posture.

  It’s the guy I saw selling to Maxx at Wild Fest. He’s been logging as many air miles as I have.

  I watch the club owner approach him, and they argue. The dealer leans in, says something that has the owner pulling back and shaking his head.

  Security clearly sees the interaction but doesn’t make a move to intervene.

  After the show, the owner approaches me. “Thanks for playing. We were lucky to get you at Bliss on short notice.”

  “Sure. Who needs a vacation?” I flash a smile, but the man only cringes.

  “I could use one right about now.”

  I think about what I saw earlier. “Who was that guy dealing?”

  He looks caught out but relents when I raise a brow. “He’s one of Mischa’s. First showed up six months ago. I should’ve objected right away, but I didn’t until it got worse.”

  “How bad is ‘worse’?” I ask, dreading the answer.

  “He’s got guys here every night of the week, and rumor has it some of what he was selling was… questionable. I finally put my foot down. Not inside. Not on my property.”

  “I don’t want to look up and see that shit either.”

  Maybe I’m feeling extra sensitive after seeing Maxx spun out at Wild Fest and after the condition I found Ash in this week.

  “Ivanov’s started pressuring clubs to sell. Says if they don’t, his people will tip off law enforcement that owners like me are allowing this to go down on their watch. I’ll lose everything. This way, at least I have money to start over.”

  “You can’t offer to help the police?”

  Fear fills his face. “You can’t stop this. You’ll only be hurt trying.”

  On my way back to the hotel in the car, I turn it over. Worrying about who controls what drugs in Ibiza is above my pay grade. Except it’s in my face every night and it’ll only get harder to ignore.

  I want a long-ass bath and maybe one of my anxiety pills. But when I open the door to the suite, I know immediately something’s wrong.

  “Ash?” I step inside, hitting the lights.

  Nothing is amiss in the living room. The same stock magazines are on the coffee table.

  Except…

  I could have sworn I left a sweater on the couch.

  There’s no way. My stomach knots in disbelief.

  I stalk down the hall to Ash’s room. His bed is made, his suitcase missing from the stand it occupied since we arrived.

  I make my way to my room, my hand shaking as I hit the light.

  There’s nothing. My belongings are gone.

  6

  Rae

  The fucking nerve.

  He did a reverse me. Vanished my belongings.

  I place a call on my cell phone to a number I haven’t used in a long time.

  “Señorita Madani.”

  “I’m sorry to call so late, Toro. Is he at the villa?”

  “I’ll come and get you.”

  “You don’t need—“

  “I will come.”

  I remove my wig and finger-comb my hair. There’s no change of clothes, so I stalk back downstairs in my same outfit.

  The driver arrives, and I shift into the passenger seat, removing the paperback there. My lips twitch when I see the title. A Gentleman in Moscow. “How is it?”

  “Surprisingly interesting. Thank you for sending it.”

  “How’s your daughter?” I ask.

  “I spoke to her this winter.” From the hope in his voice, it’s progress. “She called on my birthday. After you did.”

  “You didn’t tell Harrison about that?” I caution.

  “No.” We drive in silence until Toro adds, “We haven’t seen him the entire year. When he arrived earlier today, he was distraught.”

  “I can imagine. He stormed my hotel room like he was laying siege to a castle.”

  “His anger hides fear.”

  I shift in my seat, cutting a look across the car. “There was nothing in that hotel suite he was afraid of.”

  Toro sighs. “Life takes things we do not wish to give. He lost the people he cared about too soon. When his parents passed, he became angry. But it was when he grew quiet that we worried. He is not naturally reserved. Seeing him like that… It is not stable.” He cuts me a look.

  I cross my arms. “He didn’t lose me. He gave me up. There’s a difference.”

  When we pull up at the villa, I shift out and head up the steps to the door. I push on the handle, and it gives.

  Inside, memories of last summer ambush me. Making coffee in the kitchen with Harrison. Taking Barney for his walks. Laughing with Ash on the couch.r />
  There’s no sign of any of them, but music comes from somewhere far away.

  I head through the villa, the lights on the patio drawing my attention. When I emerge, I see a sight I never thought I’d see.

  The brothers are playing soccer barefoot, Ash in a T-shirt and shorts, Harrison shirtless in chinos. Barney is running between them.

  What the fuck?

  Harrison stops kicking, resting a foot on the ball as he looks between us. Barney attacks the now-still ball, trying to bat it away from Harrison. Until I step onto the patio, my heels clicking on the tile, and the dog lifts his head. His ears perk as he turns toward me.

  “Barney…” I hold up a hand of warning, bracing an arm away from my black satin jumpsuit.

  With his stunned, deliriously joyful brown eyes on my face, he launches himself at me. I’m knocked on my ass as the creature attacks me with his tongue, seeking any available skin.

  “Barney! Dammit!”

  It’s another ambush, but unlike Harrison’s earlier, I can’t respond with fists and fury. Instead I wrinkle my nose as I shove at a thick-barreled canine chest and drooling muzzle.

  Finally, Ash hooks fingers in the dog’s collar and pulls him back.

  I shove the hair from my face as I stare up at Harrison. “You kidnapped me,” I accuse.

  “I kidnapped my brother. Your wardrobe simply came along for the ride.” The torch lights play over Harrison’s beautiful body, golden hair, and dancing eyes. He’s wearing the same smug arrogance as the day I met him, and I’m sorely tempted to tell him where to go as explicitly as I did then.

  “Play with us?” Ash calls from where he’s dribbling the ball, the dog weaving between his legs in pursuit. “You can even be on Barney’s team. He cheats and gets away with it.”

  I want to hate Harrison. But in this moment, seeing Ash happy and the brothers together and Barney’s infectious joy for everything, it’s impossible.

  Harrison holds out a hand.

  “Whatever this is,” I warn under my breath, “it stops tonight. I will do more than throw an entire closet of Brioni in the pool. You don’t get to fuck with me anymore. We’re not together.”

  An emotion flickers behind his eyes, but it’s gone a moment later. He nods.

  I brush the dust off my silk pants and take his hand.

  7

  Rae

  “Time for bed,” Ash yawns half an hour later.

  I drink the beer I’ve been nursing at the patio table while the guys kicked the ball around, trading stories and jokes.

  “What’s Barney chewing on?” I ask, realizing the dog has been quiet since knocking me over, content to lie in the corner and ignore both the ball and me.

  “Oh bollocks.” Ash cringes.

  I cross to the dog and pull a pair of panties out of his mouth. “Seriously? You stole my clothes and fed them to Barney?”

  “I stole. He fed.” Harrison glares at his brother. “Did you not take her bag up to my room like I told you?”

  “I thought she’d like to make up her own mind about you.”

  “Thanks. I think.” I frown as I stare at the mangled fabric.

  “I’m going to take a shower before bed. Raegan, I’ll put your bag upstairs. You two sleep well.” Ash disappears into the house, followed by a whining Barney.

  It’s just Harrison and me.

  I drain the last of my beer and grab the other bottles from the table. “When I left, you were ready to beat the crap out of your brother. What changed?”

  Harrison waits for me to go ahead of him into the house, and I try to ignore his physicality. He’s as strong as ever, naked to the waist, tan, carved muscles. His beautiful eyes track me, his cut jaw twitching.

  “I asked him a question. He answered correctly.”

  Inside, I turn so fast he bumps into me. “Whether I slept with your brother is none of your damn business.”

  He takes the bottles from my hands and continues toward the kitchen, chuckling under his breath. “That’s not what I asked.”

  The sound of water comes on upstairs. Ash.

  “What’s so funny?” I call after Harrison, not bothering to keep my voice down now that his brother is occupied.

  “It’s nothing.” He deposits the bottles by the sink before returning. “I’m going to clean up here.”

  I’m surprised, but instead of commenting, I go upstairs and find my bag in my old room. Unzipping the suitcase, I retrieve my toiletries and some pajamas before realizing Ash is in the second full bathroom.

  Harrison’s still downstairs, so I head into his bathroom. When I get there, I brush my teeth and wash the makeup off my face. I turn to hang the washcloth on the towel rack, noticing pieces of grass and stuck to the butt of my outfit, plus a smudge that’s probably a grass stain from when Barney knocked me over.

  This wasn’t the plan for tonight. I was supposed to be having a long, hot bath before collapsing into bed at my hotel, twenty feet away from Ash’s soft snoring. Instead, I’m in Harrison’s bathroom, resisting the impulse to sniff his soap for another hit of familiarity.

  I untie the halter neck and strip out of the jumpsuit, tugging it off my bare feet. I’m standing in my underwear, running the fabric under water, when the door opens.

  Harrison fills the doorway, a silent, hulking presence. He’s stripped down to his shorts, his hard body impossible to ignore.

  “Ash was using the other one,” I say over the thudding of my heart as I turn back to the sink, continuing to rinse my outfit.

  “What is that?” He’s at my side the next moment, catching my wrist and turning it over so his thumb presses against the sensitive underside. He traces the shape, and his touch sends my pulse skittering more than the feel of the needle buzzing across my skin.

  “A tattoo.”

  “You copied my scar.”

  My jaw drops at his audacity. “First, that’s not a thing. Second, it looks nothing like your scar. They’re crowns. That’s the only thing alike. Mine is small. Simple. These parts are curved, and… it’s part of my logo. Little Queen is part of me.”

  I jerk my arm back, balling up the jumpsuit and dropping it on the counter.

  Charged blue eyes lift to mine. “Why are you here, Raegan?”

  “You’re a petulant asshole who stole my clothes.”

  “In Ibiza.”

  “You really want to talk about that now?”

  “You’re standing half-naked in my bathroom,” he says softly. “You don’t want to know what I want, love.”

  My eyelids drift down again to the outline of his thick erection against his black shorts.

  Distance destroyed my heart, but it fed our chemistry. I’ve been without him so damn long, and every inch of me is begging to close the space between us. But letting him touch me will mess with my head, make it harder to remember we’re not together and we won’t be getting back together.

  He circles my wrist with his large hand. There’s no way he can’t feel my thudding pulse.

  “Tell me one thing and I’ll let you walk out of here. Did you miss me?” he asks.

  “No.”

  His lips caress my wrist, and my knees sag.

  “Liar. I can’t read your thoughts, but I can read your body. The way your eyes shine. How you breathe through your mouth instead of your nose. The way you sway toward me, daring me to touch you. I know what you want as clearly as I know what I want.”

  I can’t hold in the moan, not when his tongue traces the same path as his lips, sending trails of fire up my arm that have my breasts pulling tight.

  His eyes darken with intent. “You have five seconds to leave before I push you against the wall and take what’s mine.”

  “My body doesn’t belong to you,” I whisper, not moving to leave.

  “No. But the way you react to me does. Five.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “You’re about to be full of me. Four.”

  I look past him toward the door. “You�
�ll never have me back, Harrison.”

  “Three,” he rumbles with a wink, and I feel the shiver from that wink all the way through me. “Last chance.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Only if you’re coming with me. Two.”

  I try wiggling out of his grasp, but his grip tightens, pulling my body flush against his. His heat and strength make me gasp.

  “Don’t play games that I’ll win.” He swivels around so my back is against the wall. “You knew the second you walked in here where this would end.”

  Unbelievable.

  My heart thuds against my ribs as he waits me out.

  I angle up my chin. “Well? Are you ever going to get to one, or is this just—“

  He kisses me.

  In the quiet moment before his mouth touches mine, I know I could step away, or say no, or even push him away. But I don’t. I don’t want any of it.

  At the first brush of our lips, I open. His tongue slips past mine, and he threads his fingers through my hair, silently begging for more. I give it to him, kissing him back.

  His hands drag up my sides, cupping my breasts. The touch feels so damned good, and too soon he’s reaching back to unfasten my bra, dragging it down my arms.

  He groans against my lips as he grabs my ass. “This get bigger?”

  Despite the angst of being apart from him, I’ve done better at taking care of myself, eating healthy and working out rather than ignoring my body’s needs. “This isn’t the time to accuse a woman of stress eating—“

  “Not what I meant. You’re fucking hot, Raegan. Every second that passes, you only get hotter to me.”

  This is a bad idea. But the arousal pounding through me like a tidal wave won’t let me say no.

  The apathy I’ve been dealing with in my gigs, the fatigue, the restlessness, I want him to fix it tonight. And tomorrow can’t possibly hurt more than today or yesterday or the hundred days before that.

  I brush my fingers across his hard length through the fabric and he twitches against my touch.

  I’ve missed every part of him, including this one. I close my grip around his length, straining to encircle him all the way. A tight exhale forces itself from his lungs, but the look on his face screams approval.