Page 172 of Enemies

“No. I wanted to give you the chance to prove your parents weren’t duplicitous.”

I don’t believe him. “From the moment I rejected your offer of La Mer in exchange for marrying your daughter, you weren’t intending to sell to me.”

I pace the hall, my voice rising.

“This isn’t about honor, Christian. It’s about money and pride.” My laugh is humourless. “You and Ivanov deserve one another.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a second, before he clicks off.

I stare at the mirror.

Even if I was focused on the club here, it was all in service of winning La Mer. Now, I’ve lost the thing that mattered most.

I slam my fist into the glass.

Rae

I’m standing in the bathroom freshening up, waiting for Harrison to return and trying to deal with Whelan’s arrest.

I need to know if he’s behind it. If he is, I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand, I’m grateful Whelan is being forced to account for his crime—crimes, if what Kian says is true.

But having my business handled so neatly by another person leaves me feeling a different kind of exposed.

The sound of the door jerks me out of my thoughts.

Harrison’s speaking to someone on the phone.

“…wanted me to investigate my parents as a way to bide time and run up Mischa’s bid.”

He’s speaking with Christian.

I’m about to make my presence known when Harrison’s angry voice comes down the hall.

“From the moment I rejected your offer of La Mer in exchange for marrying your daughter, you weren’t intending to sell to me.”

What the fuck?

His next words are drowned out by the buzzing in my ears.

Christian wanted Harrison to marry his daughter? The woman he showed around town? That’s what Leni was talking about him sacrificing for me.

The sound of breaking glass jars me out of my thoughts.

I trip down the hall to the entry and living room.

“Harrison!”

He’s not here.

Fear rises up my throat.

A scraping noise from the huge deck has my head snapping around. I run to the glass door and drag it open.

Harrison is the stiffest person ever to grace a lounge chair. He stares out over the skyline, no jacket, sleeves rolled up.

His hands fall to his sides. That’s when I see the white kitchen towel wrapped around his knuckles, the rusty stains seeping through.

“Shit, Harrison! What happened?”

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