Beautiful Sins (The Enemies Trilogy Book 2)

by Piper Lawson

  My body tenses. There’s something I’m missing, a piece just out of reach.

  “Not a joke.” I’m bluffing but match his low tone.

  I didn’t like this man the first time I met him, and that emotion is quickly seeping toward repulsion as he looks around furtively.

  “Anything that happened was a long time ago, and it was between us.”

  What the fuck?

  “You’ve been around,” he goes on. “You know how it is. In college, you like to drink, experiment. Girls see an older guy they want…” He wets his lips. “It’s how rumors get started.”

  The vineyard falls away, the world receding down to a point that’s Zachary, his reddening face and shifting eyes and expensive tux with the boutonnière.

  When I speak, each word is soft. “Ah, yes. Those rumors.”

  Sweat beads on his face. “It was Kian’s party.” His throat bobs. “She shouldn’t have even been there.”

  In Miami, she said started making music in high school after she was raped, that her parents began fighting after something disrupted their family, ended up divorcing.

  The way she doesn’t rely on anyone to look out for her. The identity she forged, the one that makes it easier for her to be free, to separate herself from someone who doesn’t have fears…

  That’s why she didn’t want me here today. She knew he would be, or could be.

  Zachary Whelan isn’t only the man responsible for the fate of my club.

  He’s the man who raped my girlfriend.

  People are watching us, recognizing me.

  I don’t care. I step closer, fisting his lapel and leaning in until his awful cologne hits my nostrils.

  “Say another word,” I mutter, “and I will break one of these wine bottles and castrate you in front of the bride and groom.”

  His eyes widen in shock.

  But before I can rip Whelan to shreds, a woman’s voice calls my name.

  “Harrison!”

  I turn, but it’s not my girlfriend. Though she’s physically similar and around the same age, this woman is taller, wearing a different dress, and the expression on her face is a warning as she looks between me and Whelan.

  “Callie,” I guess, and she nods. “I’m in the middle of—“

  “I can’t find Rae anywhere.”

  Rae

  The cellar’s damp but comforting. Quiet and far enough from the rest of the party that no one will find me.

  Except footsteps have me tensing, and dress shoes appear on the stairs.

  I made it through the ceremony, focusing steadfastly on my brother and his beaming bride.

  The moment it was done, before the recessional, I asked Callie to cover for me and snuck out.

  I found my way down to a room with wine barrels and sank onto the floor. I don’t have a watch, so I can’t know how much time has passed.

  The dress shoes’ owner descends.

  I thought I could handle seeing family and old friends. I didn’t expect he would be here.

  Making peace with your past is one thing. Sitting twenty feet from the man who assaulted you is a stretch.

  When dark dress pants appear, followed by a belt and a pale blue shirt I personally picked out this morning, my chest eases.

  The soft, yellow overhead light shines on Harrison’s hair as he emerges into the cellar.

  “You came back.” My voice is rough.

  He crosses the space between us and holds out something. “You left your phone in the car.”

  My fingers close around it, the case cool and familiar.

  “I ran into Whelan upstairs.”

  Harrison’s fists clench at his sides. He shifts onto a barrel near where I’m sitting, easing back to stretch his legs. There’s a smudge of dirt on his pants, but if he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t let on. “Why is the man who assaulted you at your brother’s wedding?”

  I swallow hard. “Kian didn’t know. I blamed him still, which wasn’t fair.”

  “What happened to you wasn’t fair.”

  “But I can’t control that. Forgiving my brother… I can do that.”

  Each breath is a little easier with him here.

  “You didn’t tell me it was Whelan because I need him to get the venue approved?”

  I nod. “I didn’t want you to lose the project over it.”

  With a heavy sigh, he shifts off the barrel and eases himself onto the dusty floor next to me. He’s anything but relaxed, and he’s obviously trying to fight whatever dark instincts are inside him.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I lean my head against his shoulder and breathe him in. “Did you kill him?”

  “Not yet. Would you like to watch?”

  My exhale is half laugh and half sob. He takes my phone and sets it on the floor, threading his fingers through mine.

  We sit like that for minutes. Maybe longer.

  Finally, the device buzzes with a message from Callie.

  Callie: I don’t know if you found your phone, but I’m not sure how else to find you. Where are you? Are you okay?

  Callie: I lost track of you when the aunts cornered me after the ceremony. Did you bail?

  Callie: Kian was looking for you, and I wasn’t sure what to tell him.

  Callie: I ran into Harrison, who’s looking for you too. Keep an eye out for the beautiful blond man who looks like he’s going to rain down hellfire.

  My mouth twitches. I reluctantly pull my hand from Harrison’s to type back. He caresses my knee as if unwilling to stop touching me.

  I don’t hate it.

  Rae: I’m okay. I needed some space, but I’m with Harrison. Tell Kian he did great.

  “What I said earlier about you not being brave today… I was wrong. You’re the bravest woman I know.”

  Harrison’s gaze locks with mine. In it is the compassion I didn’t know I needed.

  Back when it happened, I didn’t have many people to talk to. The ones I did confide in made it seem like I put this problem on them. The ones I tried to hide it from acted as if my withdrawing from the activities I previously did was an act of selfishness.

  Now, the man I care about is looking at me like there’s nothing wrong with me.

  More than that, like there’s something admirable about me, in me.

  My gaze drifts to one of the wine casks next to me. “Want to get drunk tonight?”

  His lips tug up, his handsome face rueful as he rises to standing. He brushes the dirt off his pants before offering a hand. “After I drive us back to LA. I’ll have the hotel sommelier bring us a selection.”

  I consider. “Maybe have him take the night off and we can raid the wine cellar.”

  “Done.”

  I grab his hand, and he tugs me up in one easy motion.

  “Before you suggest laying charges, I’ve considered it,” I say as I adjust my bag on my shoulder. “Not at first, but later. The statute of limitations is up, though, so I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

  He exhales heavily, then pops the top button on his shirt as if he needs the air. “In that case, let’s go home.”

  I don’t argue with his choice of words.

  19

  Harrison

  Rae didn’t protest when I brought her back to my place or when I fumbled with the kettle to make tea. In truth, I felt more shaken than she looked. We spent the evening watching South Park, half my brain trying to understand the statistical likelihood of a boy named Kenny being plagued by such obscure, violent threats week after week. The other half of my brain was simply grateful to have Raegan curled against my side.

  The next morning, I look at her in my bed. My chest twists like there’s a knot of muscle deep in my torso. She’s too fucking young to have gone through what she has. Too brave for me to taunt her about being weak.

  She will never go through it again and the man who hurt her will beg for a fate like Kenny’s.

  Leaving her in bed, I close the door before I pad barefoot out to the kitchen and start coff
ee. The smell might wake her, but I don’t want my sounds to.

  I ignore the dozens of notifications on my phone as I pull up her social profile, going right back to the post she never deleted, reaming me out this spring. I watch it again, emotions colliding in my chest.

  Now I understand why she’s so fixated on ensuring women are protected in clubs—mine or anyone else’s. It’s not only an issue that matters to her—it’s one that shaped her.

  It’s shaped me through her.

  I swipe a finger up the screen, and the feed scrolls, dozens of images. From Ibiza and since. Plus the live feed she did from Beck’s last week, fresh and grinning.

  Thanks to that, she’s at number three on the Wild Fest fan vote.

  I’m beyond proud of her.

  The way she glows on stage. The way she tries. The way she’ll fight for other people but hides her heart because she doesn’t want it trampled.

  The most recent photo is a poster for her gig in New York this week—her last push before the organizers decide. I can’t attend thanks to an important meeting in London later this week.

  I want to be there for her.

  What I want more, though, is to kill the man who hurt her with my bare hands.

  The hearing is scheduled for tomorrow. The fate of my club rests in the balance, but suddenly there’s something even more important at stake.

  I click out of social media and into my contacts list, dialing a number I rarely use.

  “You don’t need to handle this,” Leni insists. “We have lawyers and petitioners who can do the heavy lifting.”

  Hearings are a place for the general public to trot out their objections and for officials and the committee to ask questions. They’re not something I’d deign to participate in if it weren’t important. And since the head of zoning is the man who raped my girlfriend, it’s fucking important.

  When I show up at the meeting, there’s a modest crowd. My lawyers handle most of the conversation on my behalf. There are some ridiculous questions and pressures from a local interest group that make me sit up.

  “Mr. King has a reputation for taking over clubs only to mismanage them. We don’t want a large venue in our community.”

  “Those claims are unsubstantiated,” my lawyer says.

  “I have reports dating back years.” He holds up a stack of papers, takes them over to the commission.

  “Give me a copy,” I demand.

  The man does.

  They’re the usual “not in my backyard” allegations, plus some disturbingly short-sighted arguments aimed at dismantling our claims that the club will enhance the surrounding area.

  “The committee will take this under consideration,” Zachary concludes from the front. “We’ll take a short recess before our next agenda item.”

  He gets up to use the washroom. I follow him in.

  The man goes into a stall, and I wait at the sink, meeting his gaze in the mirror when he comes out to wash his hands.

  “That was… disappointing,” I say.

  Another man starts to enter, but I cut him a look and he quickly reverses out the door.

  “I told you. Interest groups are very active here.”

  A few days ago, I was convinced we could work together. He’d be one more bureaucrat I’d manage.

  By Saturday afternoon, I realized that would never happen.

  “You’re from a good family,” I start. “Political. Affluent. Elite golf course memberships. Old money. It must be nice to be so connected. To have kids. A wife.”

  “Ex-wife,” he bites out.

  “The divorce is before the courts. Do she and her lawyers know you raped a teenage girl?”

  “You can’t threaten me.” He sneers, his confidence bolstered by the lawyer he dialed the second he left the wedding—the one who no doubt reminded him he was in the clear for whatever heinous acts he committed more than ten years ago.

  “That’s not why I’m here.” I jerk on a paper towel, and two sheets tumble out.

  “Then why?”

  I toss him one sheet. “Because I needed to look in your eyes, but more than that, I needed you to look in mine.” The second paper towel crumples into a ball under the pressure of my fist, and I toss it into the trash without taking of my gaze from the man before me. “You hurt someone I love. In the most repugnant, despicable way a man can hurt a woman.”

  The protectiveness I feel for her is different from anything I’ve ever experienced.

  “God might absolve you of that sin.” I lean in, savoring the fear edging into his eyes. “I will not.”

  20

  Rae

  Rae: How was it?

  I text Harrison when the plane pulls up to the gate at La Guardia. I’ll be in New York for a few days to see Annie and perform my final gig, but the timing meant I had to leave the same day as Harrison’s meeting with the zoning commission.

  Harrison: No bloodshed.

  My chest unknots a degree, but I don’t totally buy it.

  Rae: I want a picture.

  Moments later, the joke’s on me because he sends through an image of of his chest, abs, and the trail of hair leading to the band on his boxer briefs.

  I nearly drop the phone.

  The woman next to me must be pushing seventy, and she makes a sound of appreciation. “Well done.”

  “Thanks.” I swallow a laugh and type back.

  Rae: Just getting off the plane. I’ll call you later. My neighbor thinks you’re hot.

  I tuck the phone away to disembark.

  I’ve got it bad. Since Kian’s wedding, I’m falling even harder for him.

  We’re both on the go, and I don’t know what getting more serious means, but I miss Harrison when he’s not around.

  Uncharted territory. That’s what this is.

  Tomorrow is a huge gig that will decide Wild Fest, but I’m thinking about Harrison.

  By the time I get into the hotel and get through some emails for the show tomorrow, it’s late.

  It’s three hours earlier in LA, I remind myself as I hit his contact.

  Harrison answers the video call on the second ring. “I was concerned my photo gave you a heart attack.”

  His gruff voice makes me grin.

  “No, but the woman sitting next to me on the plane enjoyed it.”

  He cocks his head. “She single?”

  “And at least seventy.”

  “Perfect.”

  “You’re not,” I remind him. “Single or seventy.”

  He laughs, and I notice his shirt, open at the front to expose a tantalizing glimpse of skin. I swallow.

  “Why were you naked earlier?”

  “Trying on some new suits.” He’s in motion the next second, flipping the camera to display half a dozen jackets.

  “You’re a clothes whore.”

  “I bought you something too.” He flips the screen back, smirking. I’m curious what he got me, but he continues before I can ask. “I’m flying to London tomorrow for a few days. A few conversations with senior Echo staff.”

  “Oh.” I’d almost forgotten he has work outside of LA because he’s been here so much. “Did you get the approval for the club?”

  The backboard of his bed appears as he shifts onto the mattress. “Not today. I have more urgent matters to attend to first. Mischa’s been causing problems.”

  It always seems as if his vendetta trumps what he could create in the future.

  “Are you ready to decimate the competition and claim the top spot in Wild Fest’s fan vote tomorrow?”

  I stop pacing and sink onto the couch, staring at my computer on the coffee table that contains the set I’ve worked and reworked. I make a face to hide the nerves. “I have a set. But nothing feels right.” I pull up the track I was planning to open with, then click to another and another. I leave the third one running, turning down the volume so it throbs in the background as we continue talking. “I’ve done some research on the crowd. The club sent me some demographics, an
d…”

  He groans, and I trail off.

  “My beautiful girlfriend is an exceptional producer who still doesn’t understand what the people want.”

  “Which is?”

  I frown at my Ableton software, wishing there was an answer that didn’t rely on my own intuition.

  “What I already have.”

  His voice lowers, and I flick my gaze back to the phone screen. His firm mouth is parted as he shifts back, eyes darkening.

  The music pulses in the background like a dark metronome.

  Awareness heats my blood, has my body taking notice.

  “Set your phone down. Somewhere I can watch you.”

  A breath trembles out from between my lips. But I do it, glad to not have to make a decision for once today.

  When the phone is propped against my computer, I lift a brow. “Anything else?”

  His gaze takes me in, my pajama shorts and tank top, my messy hair around my shoulders.

  “Lose the shirt.”

  I hesitate a beat before stripping it off.

  I’m half a dozen feet from the window but on a high floor. It’s unlikely anyone can see in, but I feel exposed anyway.

  I’ve been naked in front of Harrison plenty of times, but this feels different. When his breath goes shallow, his gaze lingering on my lips, my shoulders, the curve of my breasts, the hard points of my nipples, I shiver.

  “You’re stunning, Raegan. If you knew half of what you did to me...”

  A wave of light-headedness washes over me at the desire in his voice.

  “Touch yourself. Let me see it.”

  My heart thuds in my chest, skipping at his request. It’s a challenge, but more than that, it’s a plea.

  When I skim a hand up my stomach, over my breast, he exhales tightly.

  I like that I have this much power over him.

  That high urges me on. I pinch my nipple and squeeze the mound of flesh surrounding it, rewarded once by the sensations flooding through me and again by Harrison’s groan.