Page 206 of Enemies

I pull up short when I see the young woman sunbathing.

She rolls over and spots me. “Harrison!” She sits up, pulling a towel across her bare chest.

“Sylvie. I hope you’re well.”

A man—boy?—lies next to her, frowning protectively.

“I finished university,” she says. “Papa said my boyfriend could come on holiday with us.”

The man-boy’s face relaxes a little at this reinforcement. I hide my smile.

“How nice for you both.” With a nod, I follow Christian across the deck.

“He’s immature and impulsive and dotes far too much,” Christian mutters.

“He’s perfect for her.”

We take seats at a table at the far end of the yacht, and an attendant immediately brings Christian a cold drink, offering me one as well. I wave him off. From here, we have an uninterrupted view of the sea in one direction and the harbor from the other, white and blue and dotted with color.

“What do you have for me?”

Christian sips his drink. “Advice. I want Mischa gone too.”

I arch a brow. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

“What happened last summer was unfortunate. Ivanov threatened Sylvie.”

My hands fist under the table. Since LA, I’ve wondered if that might’ve been why he changed his mind so quickly about selling La Mer to Mischa.

Christian adds, “At one point in my life, I might have gone toe to toe with him. But I’m too old for a war and too old to risk what I’ve made on one.”

Sylvie’s laughter carries on the breeze from the other end of the boat. Evidently the man-boy is serving his purpose.

“So, it wasn’t because of my parents. Who they were.”

My host sighs. “No.”

I shift out of my chair and cross to the railing. “Then I found out they were liars and criminals for nothing.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he follows, leaning both elbows on the railing next to me. “Not for nothing, Harrison. You are strong enough to know the truth. To make your own way.”

I turn toward him. “I was making my own way.”

“You were making theirs. Doing what you thought they wanted, needed. You reinforced that lesson for me when you turned down Sylvie last year. Young people need to find their own way.”

I bark out a laugh. “I’m not young.”

“Because you never let yourself be. When they died, you took on a challenge they never asked you to.”

My next breath is harder than the last despite the fresh air. “I needed to provide for my brother. To prove that I could be the man they hoped.”

“You were. They wanted better for you. By choosing to stay away from Mischa’s company when they pursued you, you chose the right path. You didn’t owe them a single thing after that.”

“I need to fight him.”

He shakes his head. “If you’re going to fight, don’t fight for something ugly. Fight for something beautiful.”

I think of Kings, a hollowed-out shell. “I don’t have anything beautiful to fight for anymore.”

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