Page 165 of Enemies

“He’s the reason for a lot of things,” I admit, thinking of last night and how it felt to let loose with him.

“Such as?”

“He makes me coffee,” I say bluntly.

Annie cocks her head. “And that’s bad?”

“He used to drink this terrible fucking coffee. Until I bought a better kind. And a French press. The first night I stayed over, he made it for me. The man has never cooked a day in his life, never so much as made his own tea. But he makes me coffee every day.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“This morning, I woke up, and my first thought wasn’t about the gig tonight or even seeing you. It was that I didn’t have a cup of coffee to drink knowing that he’d made it with his own damn hands.”

My exhale is heavy. “It’s like the more real I am, the more he gets me.”

“It’s awesome?”

“It’s fucking terrifying.”

“I know what it’s like to have someone see you, Rae. And I wish I could tell you that fear goes away, but it just changes. Hell, we’re married, but there are still moments I’m terrified to lose Tyler. Not because I don’t believe in him, but because I don’t believe in me. Or I don’t believe we deserve everything we have. There’s only one thing I know for sure.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re a performer. Whatever you feel, use it.”

When I get ready for my show that night, I pick out a low-cut black top and tight pants with killer boots. Then I flip through my wigs, holding up one after another in the mirror.

None match my mood.

I stare at my reflection. Dark liner, top and bottom, frames my eyes. Thick eyelashes. A tube of plum lipstick waits on the dresser.

I reach for a lip balm instead. My lips are dry from chewing on them.

Little Queen is me, and she isn’t. At the time, I thought I created her because I wanted a place to feel free and safe to experiment.

But lately, I’ve been forced to step outside my comfort zone without that protection. And I’ve survived.

They want how you make them feel. But more than that, they want who you are.

I ignore the wigs and tug the elastic out of my own hair, scrunching it so it falls around my head.

If tonight is my last chance at getting to Wild Fest, I’m going to give them a show.

I’ll give them me.

21

HARRISON

From the second I landed in London, the city that should’ve felt like home, I’ve wanted to get back to Rae. The posh flat I’ve spent hundreds of nights in felt empty without her next to me.

“I did what you asked,” my finance lead informed me from across the table in our London offices. “I have the bridge financing so you can increase your bid for La Mer. And we tripped up a new deal of Mischa’s to make it harder for him. But there’s a problem. He caught one of our men looking around after hours on one of his new projects. Apparently, faced with the prospect of losing something of value to him, the man talked. Which means he knows you’re behind it.”

I need to finalize the La Mer deal. And quickly.

That wasn’t the only bad news.

My investigator informed me he discovered records of a seven-figure payment more than a decade ago—not to my parents, but from them. His hypothesis was it was an investment in the expansion of the Ivanov empire.

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