Page 15 of Enemies

Security holds the outside door for us, the guard already nodding to me with familiarity. “Mr. King. Miss… Queen.”

A half laugh is out of my lips before I step out into the cool evening. Harrison cocks his head.

“Cute couple,” I drawl.

I catch his eye over my shoulder, and he huffs out a breath when he realizes I’m trying to piss him off.

“You’re the one making this hard.”

I rub my hands over my skin in response to the sudden chill—of the night air or his words. “Hard’s the only way I know.”

He strips off his jacket, and my gaze is drawn to the muscles of his shoulders and chest through the shirt beneath.

I’m distracted enough it takes me a moment to realize his intention as he closes the distance between us.

“No. Don’t?—”

I lift both hands defensively, but he drapes the expensive fabric around my shoulders and pulls the lapels closed over my chest before I can stop him.

“You’d probably like to freeze to death your first night.” His closeness invades my senses, makes it hard to think. “If only to leave me in a jam.”

“I told you, I’m leaving in the morning.”

I start to shrug out of the coat, but he stops me.

“Keep it.”

What kind of a man is fastidious enough to wear designer suits but doesn’t care about giving one away to spare me a few moments’ chill? Before I find a good answer, the cab pulls up.

As I drive away from Harrison King for the second time today, I finger the edge of the jacket.

I’m alone again.

The rush of relief I expected doesn’t come.

6

RAE

“Have you found my bag?” I press a hand to my face to stifle the yawn. It’s noon, and I managed two hours of fitful sleep in the luxurious bed at the villa.

“Unfortunately not.” The woman at the airline repeats the words I heard yesterday about reimbursement as I flop onto the bed and drop the phone next to me.

I stare longingly at the bedside table, where my bottle of pills would typically be. Instead of my belongings, the only way I’ve personalized this room is by throwing Harrison’s suit jacket over the lampshade until I can figure out what to do with it.

After, I make a call to my attorney, who says there’s no clear loophole to get me out of this contract and avoid the damages written in—which I never thought I’d be in a position to consider.

I’m stranded in Ibiza without options, my pills… even a damned razor.

The jet lag is messing with my head.

My workout clothes were in my checked bag, so I pull on my sneakers and the skinny jeans from yesterday.

One glance in the mirror over the dresser shows my hair is a mess of craziness. I yank it all up into a ponytail before I peer out into the hall. No sign of anyone.

When I reach the top of the stairs, rapid shouting in Spanish comes from below, ending with, “Get back here!”

Then I’m attacked.

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