Page 221 of Enemies

It’s like the tiniest interaction with her, the slightest tease of emotion, is my oasis in the desert.

I’m taking a break from entertaining guests at Debajo, which is still packed a year after Raegan took on the challenge of reinventing it. The DJ tonight isn’t her, but he has the near-capacity crowd captivated nonetheless.

Spending eight months on opposite sides of the globe was one thing. But now she’s here, and I can as easily ignore her as I can ignore my own need for oxygen.

She asked me to back down. I won’t force myself on her, but I won’t stop protecting her. I won’t stop loving her.

Earlier in the week, she called me when she found that woman after her set. I’m glad she did. Even if I can’t shake the feeling of seeing that crumpled form, even if it brought up memories of my parents’ deaths. I got to hold her in the back of the car, see her eyes damp with the tears she never lets fall.

It made me realize something…

Raegan’s strength is my damn weakness.

My phone rings.

“King,” I shout over the music as I rise from the leather bench.

The voice on the other line belongs to my investigator in London. “Figured you’d want to hear about the sting police tried to run on Mischa’s venue here last night.”

I excuse myself from the VIPs in my booth—a handful of investors, plus twin celebrity actresses.

“What happened?” I demand, pressing my other hand to my ear to listen over the music as I cross the catwalk and head for the stairs.

Security holds the door, and the next second, I’m in the quiet hallway leading to the VIP room.

The man on the phone sighs. “A source suggested there was a big deal going down. What they found was a poor cousin of that. And the guy involved… some small-time dealer with no links to Ivanov.”

Either the police fucked up, or Mischa knew they were coming.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “A tourist ODed here the other night and nearly died. Not uncommon, but the drugs were cut with something. Doctors wouldn’t disclose, but it was something bad.”

He hesitates.

“Our surveillance of Ivanov saw a woman arrive at La Mer earlier today shortly after Mischa did.”

I shake my head, impatient. “And?”

“It was Miss Madani.”

My hand has a death grip on the phone.

“We couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were meeting about, so we can only speculate?—“

“I fucking know what they were meeting about.”

I hang up and drop into an armchair in the VIP room. It’s quiet tonight, just the bartender who left the moment I waved him away.

How the hell could she visit Mischa?

I want to storm her hotel suite again. I’ll lock her up in my villa until this is all over. But something tells me she won’t be nearly as welcoming as she was last time, and that landed me with a bruised cheek for two days.

Since my brother and I went through our parents’ belongings, I’ve been wondering how much damage I did unnecessarily to people I love.

Maybe if I can destroy Mischa, I’ll have another shot with Rae too.

I replay the video of her getting the flowers and watch her try not to smile once more.

“Huh. I knew you were getting old, but napping? For real?”

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