Page 148 of Enemies

“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.

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