by Piper Lawson
So, when he texts me a picture of a drink, I nearly drop my phone.
Harrison: No promises. :)
Rae: Did you just smiley-face me? Who the fuck are you?
The limo pulls right up to the runway when I arrive, and I shift out with a single bag in tow. My boots click on the metal steps, echoing off the body of the plane. In the distance, others land and take off, but this section of LAX is quiet.
“Traffic was murder…” I say as I step into the private plane.
Harrison looks up from his phone. His mouth is pursed, brows pulled together on his handsome face. He’s wearing the reading glasses I got him, but it’s the way he’s dressed that has me pulling up.
His windowpane button-down shirt is a blue that matches his eyes. The dark denim underneath clings to his strong thighs.
“Damn,” I breathe. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear it.”
“In that case, I have a suit to change into.” But he motions me over, and I drop my bag on the floor before sinking onto his lap.
“Quick, tell me you want me.” My murmur is barely audible as the plane engine starts.
Harrison’s pale lashes jerk as he looks between my eyes and my mouth. “I’m wearing denim. There’s no greater evidence.”
I grin and press my lips to his. One arm bands around my hips, pulling me closer, while his other hand angles my mouth against his so he can invade me with his tongue.
I used to chafe at the possessiveness, but it’s growing on me.
Since Miami, we’ve been getting closer. We haven’t revisited the conversation after my show, but knowing he knows what happened to me means one less thing between us.
Our time together is addictive. I don’t need an excuse to see him. All I have to do is text him and we make plans. This man, the ruthless billionaire I used to hate, is a phone call away to share a joke, run an idea by. He makes me coffee before I’m awake, and even watched South Park with me for an entire evening when I didn’t feel like going out.
The sex hasn’t slowed down either. I take back my comments about age doing things to a man’s endurance. He’s relentless.
In bed, he takes me apart with his skilled hands and mouth. His body is a finely tuned machine, hard planes and smooth muscles that know exactly how to make me split open.
And though I’m no porn star and don’t play one on TV, you’d never know it by the way he looks at me, the sounds he makes when I’m touching him.
We haven’t defined it, but it’s so much more than casual. Not that anything with him has ever felt casual, but if there was any doubt, I’m pretty sure we blew past it the second I walked in on his stubborn ass sleeping on my couch in Miami, his rangy form contorted to fit the furniture because he refused to leave me.
Now, Harrison’s lips slant deliciously across mine, sending waves of desire down my spine that settle into a sweet ache between my thighs, and I ignore that part of me.
He pulls back an inch. “As much as I’d like to continue this, we have to go. And to do it, you need to sit there.”
I look at the leather seat over my shoulder. “Unfortunate.”
But I comply, fastening my seatbelt as the plane prepares to take off.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been to Red Rocks,” I say after settling in. “One of the world’s greatest outdoor venues.”
“I’m glad you can show it to me,” he says. “Thank you. For inviting me.”
Warmth floods me, has me looking away. “In fairness, we are taking your ride.” I gesture to the plane.
“I’m serious. When was the last time you invited someone to join you and your friends?”
My instinct is to say it’s not a big deal or deny the fact that I think about him all the time, that I naturally look to include him, and when I’m deciding what to do, I automatically check his schedule.
“Never,” I admit.
The vulnerability creeps up. Since Miami, I’ve felt it more than once. Normally, it makes me shut down, but I’m learning to live with it.
There’ve been no games except the kind we’re both on board for. I’ve never dated a man who’s so direct about what he wants.
Although he still has an irritating habit of expecting he’ll get it.
The plane takes off, and we stick to safe subjects for the majority of the two-and-a-half-hour flight.
“Your hard work this week is paying off.” He holds out his phone, and I glance at the screen.
My brows lift. “Lucky number seven. Moving up in the world.”
“You have two more weeks before they announce the fan vote. Any plans during that time?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Come on.”
“It involves leather and a bullwhip and a video shoot on top of the Wynn hotel in Vegas.”
“One, I don’t believe you. And two”—his eyes darken—“if you ever do that, I swear to god I’ll be the only one to see it.”
I grin, because I’ve never dressed solely to provoke a man’s reaction, but now I’m tempted. “How was your day?”
“You wouldn’t believe what marketing is coming up with for the club’s name.”
“You should name it yourself. It’s your crown jewel, after all.”
“This club is regular business. The goal is still La Mer,” he corrects. “Did I tell you my parents met there? In the early eighties. They fell in love in a single summer.”
My chest aches at the longing in his voice. “You miss them.”
“All the fucking time,” he admits.
I still haven’t figured out what Leni meant about Harrison giving up a chance at La Mer to be with me. Now, I wet my lips. “Back in Ibiza, it seemed you were close to a deal with Christian. Why couldn’t you get it done then?”
He rests his head in one hand, studying me. “The price was too steep.”
He’s not telling me everything. I still don’t know why he was willing to take that chance on me.
“No more talk of that,” he says, picking up on my mood shift. “Let’s discuss something pleasant. Like this wedding you’re going to.”
“My brother and I haven’t spoken much in years. Things were tense around the time of…you know.” I wave a hand in the air.
“But you’ve decided to go to his wedding.”
I blow out a breath. “Seems that way. I ordered a dress.”
“Show me.”
I pull up a selfie on my phone that I snapped at the store.
“You’ll be stunning in it.”
“It cost forty-three dollars,” I say proudly.
He flinches, as if personally wounded by the bargain I scored. “I’d like to go with you.”
I shift in my seat. “Harrison, I like the dates we’ve been on. But this is different. It’s family.”
“Are you ashamed of me or of you?”
He holds out my phone and I struggle for words.
“It’s not shame. It’s more like… blame,” I decide, rolling the word over on my tongue. “I blame them.”
I’ve never said it out loud, but it’s true.
I blame them for not having my back when they should have.
“May I give you some advice?” he murmurs, and I sigh.
“Is it something I don’t want to hear?”
“Probably. Get even or get over it. If you don’t, it will rot you.”
I take the phone back and glance at the dress before clicking it off.
“Isn’t that what’s happening between you and Mischa?”
Harrison steeples his hands, surveying me with sudden intensity. “It’s not the same. Did I tell you Ivanov tried to recruit me when we were still in school?”
“Recruit you to what?” The metallic taste in my throat makes me swallow.
“His family business. Drugs, not clubs. I’d spent time with his parents over the years, and they knew I had the skills to take their business to the next level. I said no. Mischa tried to convince me.”
My stomach tightens, and I
feel my gaze drag down to where the scars sit on his chest under the shirt. “What did he do?”
“Everything he could. But in the end, I sent him back to his parents with his tail between their legs. What they did to him for failing?” He shakes his head. “That I don’t know.”
“He wants to beat you as much as you want to beat him,” I realize.
“More,” he says quietly. “I ruined his relationship with his parents. He killed mine. Neither of us will stop until one of us wins.”
“You mean La Mer,” I say, needing him to confirm it because this shit is taking on a scarier dimension than I expected.
He hesitates a beat. “Yes.”
Damned men with their egos and war games.
“No matter who buys it, it’ll still be Christian’s baby,” I point out. “This club in Burbank is yours. It will have your fingerprints all over it. Isn’t it more of an accomplishment to create something from scratch than just to conquer what someone else built?”
His eyes glint with appreciation. “I suppose we’ll find out.”
When we arrive, a limo takes us from the tarmac straight to Red Rocks. Security gets us IDs and helps us meet up with Annie, Elle, Beck, and another woman in a VIP section. In addition, there’s Annie’s dad, Jax, and his wife, Haley.
Beck nods when he spots me. “Can’t believe you’re not passed out after the way we worked you over today.”
“I’m going to sleep well tonight,” I toss back.
Harrison’s hand is on my hip. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
I hook a finger in the front pocket of his jeans, enjoying his irritated expression. “Nope.”
On my way back from the bathroom, security is holding back a young woman.
“Little Queen, right? I’m a huge fan.”
Normally, I would tense up at someone recognizing me out of costume, but I nod at security to let her through. “What’s your name?”
“Amber. And I want to be a DJ. You’re seriously my hero. I’ve been working on music for a few years, but it’s nowhere near as good as yours. I wish I knew how to make it better.” She flushes, looking embarrassed. “School’s hard, and the music helps me stay focused. I shouldn’t be telling you all this, but I’m nervous.”
“It’s cool. Music helped me get through shit too. Tell you what—send me something. We can talk about it.”
I give her my email, and she clutches her phone to her chest. “Thank you.”
When I get back to our booth, Harrison tugs me against his side. “Friend of yours?”
“A fan who wanted some advice about producing. I told her we’d talk.”
The look in his eyes contains so many emotions—admiration, respect, something more than both.
“I recorded a set poolside at Beck’s today,” I blurt. I’ve busted my ass playing five shows in the last six nights, but I need to do more. “That’s why I was late. His crew filmed it for his show, and it’s going to drop in a couple of weeks. But we arranged for me to preview it on my feed and push the fan vote. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to put me over the top.”
His eyes shine. “You’re brilliant.”
The concert is spectacular, an orgy of music and lights and the energy of the crowd building and diffusing in that magical way only an outdoor venue seems to make possible.
For his part, Tyler’s incredible. Annie watches with so much emotion and adoration it makes my chest hurt. I glance over at Harrison, his strong profile, and wonder if he watches me the same way.
After the show, we head backstage to hang with Tyler, celebrating with our friends.
By the end of the evening, we head back to our hotel. I’m thinking about Harrison’s words from earlier about blame and revenge.
“Do you ever wonder how your life would be different if your parents hadn’t died?” I ask in the back seat of the limo.
“Yes. I would be avoiding all responsibility. I would be the man the tabloids make me out to be, careless and unfeeling. Except the irony is the tabloids would no longer care because I wouldn’t matter.”
“It’s funny how the worst things in our life give us a reason to do better.”
His gaze locks on mine. “Sometimes I’m not sure. I’ve never much thought about what I’ll do after claiming La Mer and burying Mischa.”
I cock my head. “Well. You’ll have more time to watch GBBO.”
He snorts. “And after that?”
“You can catch up on South Park. There are a lot of seasons. Hundreds of episodes of social commentary and crass jokes that will make you do this.”
I reach over and press one of his brows up his forehead.
He’s laughing, and the idea of him sitting through my favorite episodes has me grinning too.
“I know what it is to want justice for your past,” I say once we’ve recovered. “But if the price is your future? It’s not worth it. You can start over.”
He tugs me toward him.
“You’re too young to be this wise,” he murmurs, capturing me with his eyes as much as his hold.
I’ve never felt the way I feel under the intensity of his study. The strong, commanding man is still there in his handsome face, sharp brows, and nose and jaw.
“This thing between us, Raegan. I didn’t plan on it.”
My brows shoot up. “Oh, and you think I did? You think I tracked you down at Tyler and Annie’s wedding, tanked my career, followed you to Ibiza to have a shot with you?”
He frowns but doesn’t answer. Only reaches into his pocket and produces a square red box with gold writing on top. Cartier.
Nerves grip me. It’s clearly not a ring, and I can’t picture him proposing since he said he never would again, but it’s jewelry.
As outrageous as the diamond headphones were, I justified that they were related to my work, what I was doing with him.
Whatever’s in that box is about us.
There’s nothing to hide behind.
“Open it.”
“I don’t want to.”
He taps a foot, impatient. “It won’t bite.”
My hands shake a little as I open the case, and I’m accosted with the sheen of gold. The bracelet is a dazzling circle, wide as three of my fingers.
“A cuff?”
“Figured it was more your style than a tennis bracelet.”
The bracelet is simple and elegant. Edgy too. It would take on the style of anything you wore with it while maintaining its own classic perfection.
When I lift it from the case, it’s heavier than I expect.
“Does it come with a lock and key? I assume this is to keep me from running away again.”
He doesn’t laugh. “It’s to tell you I’m not leaving.”
I shift in my seat, fidgeting as I look away. “The most expensive gift I’ve ever gotten was from my parents after…” I trail off, shaking my head. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
Harrison’s eyes grow flinty, and the words hang between us long enough I feel like a fool.
Maybe I misread this. He’s been spending a lot of time with me, but now a lump rises up my throat at the idea that he’s not in this the way I thought. Jealousy. Insecurity. One ugly emotion after the other, and I can’t shove them away fast enough.
I’m the girl who didn’t want commitment. And now, suddenly, I do?
I turn away, but he plants his hands on either side of my hips.
“Labels like ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ aren’t for people like us.” My chest tightens, twists, but he plows on. “We live at the edge of success and failure. Where falling down causes more than a scratch. I see you. You might be young, but I know you. When I fuck up, it impacts thousands of people. When you fall, they feel it. I will be with you when you do.
“There’s a name for that. It’s not ‘girlfriend.’”
I turn the bracelet in my fingers, and my gaze lands on the inscription.
My Queen.
My heart stops.
It
’s not about me or about him. It’s about us. The magic that happens when we’re together.
The way I feel when I’m around him.
I was afraid the feeling was fragile or that I’d be fragile if I leaned on it. But I realize it’s not. And I’m not.
“I hoped you’d like it.” There’s uncertainty in his voice. “If not, I—”
I press a finger against his lips. “Put it on me.”
16
Rae
The slippery feeling on my skin won’t go away.
My eyes blink open. There’s a hint of the sun coming through the curtains in our hotel room, but the clock says it’s nine.
Harrison is asleep next to me—unusual for him. I steal the chance to watch him, his aristocratic nose, firm mouth, thick lashes. Golden hair falls over his forehead, his firm chest rising and falling with his breath. The scar he’ll never erase, the one that seems carved into his brain as much as it’s carved into his body.
I’m starting to see the power of forgiving your past while it feels he’s going deeper into his. The worry he carries worries me, for him and for us.
I play with the bracelet still on my wrist, glinting defiantly even in the dull light. It’s nothing I would ever buy myself, but the more I look at it, the more I see me in it—the inscription, which makes my stomach quiver with an emotion I can’t name out loud, but also the cuff. It’s not classic jewelry, and it’s even more special for it.
He asked me to keep it on after we got back.
Since we returned to the hotel, it’s the only thing I’ve kept on.
Now, my body is heavy and languid in the best way, as it always is after a long night with him.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I pick it up.
Beck: Can you check on the house? I need to fuck off for a couple of days.
I’m not the kind of person to overthink other peoples’ internal worlds, but when I set down the phone, I can’t kick the feeling of concern.
The carpet is soft under my bare feet as I shift out of bed and pad naked into the living room, pulling the door closed behind me.
