Page 93 of Enemies

I’ll make it up to her—last night, and everything else I’ve done.

Including how I claimed her against the wall in a furious, graceless rush.

There are countless ways I’ve imagined being with her, a thousand temptations to explore together that would take more than a single night, not to mention a single hour, to enjoy.

Her term at Debajo is concluded. On paper, we might be finished.

In reality…

We’re far from it. And now I have a reason to keep her here while we figure that out.

I start for the door, but Christian’s voice interrupts me. “Is that what you came to say?”

I pause. “If things escalate with Mischa,” I say, “know that I wasn’t the one who initiated. Since school, we’ve kept things civilized. But I want La Mer. And if he won’t play by the rules, I can’t promise to.”

“Breaking the rules. You come by it honestly.”

I frown, ripples of discontent making me turn back. “Tell me what you meant about my father yesterday.”

The older man crosses to the windows, peering out into the bright morning. “He’s not the paragon of virtue you seem to think.”

“My parents were above reproach. The second they learned about the drugs and other activities the Ivanov family was running behind the scenes, they wanted out. They would’ve died rather than supporting that kind of evil.”

In the end, they did.

But Christian’s silence is unsettling.

“You idolized them,” he says at last. “It’s dangerous to paint anyone as more than human. Particularly those we love.”

I don’t have the time to argue with him now, or to play games.

“If I promise to prove you wrong about my parents, promise me you won’t sell the club to anyone else in the interim,” I say. “You’re a patient man. Give me the benefit of the same.”

This deal is everything. I will him to agree.

“You have three months,” he says, sighing.

I stride out of his house and out to the waiting limo.

The ride back feels interminable. I glance at my phone, seeing the barrage of missed calls as a result of turning alerts off for the morning to deal with more important things than business.

They don’t matter.

I picture Rae’s face when I tell her about Christian’s offer to meet. This could be the single most important show of her career. It won’t make up for last night, but it’s a start.

The second we pull up to my villa, Natalia is out front, wringing her hands.

“Señor King.” She crosses to the car, her expression a mask of distress.

“What is it?” I think the worst. Rae. She’s hurt, or sick, or…

I shove past her and stomp inside, looking all around.

Nothing is out of the ordinary.

There’s not a single item of Rae’s clothing on a table or chair.

My chest twinges. A warning.

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