Page 43 of Enemies

She points at her bare feet, and the red welts have me wincing.

“You should’ve told me the shoes didn’t fit.”

She shoves me, hard enough that I stagger. “I shouldn’t have worn them at all! Your stupid favor didn’t involve footwear. I came because I said I would, and I thought maybe you wanted me to come with you. Which is crazy. This is your world. These are your rich, entitled people. Enjoy them.”

I didn’t know I had the ability to hurt this woman. Even Eva, whom I thought I loved, proved to have an icy heart I could never penetrate. But this woman—this girl—who’s so extraordinary on a stage and is so stubborn off it…

It makes me wonder what other good things she hides beneath her tough exterior, pretending she cares for nothing and no one.

“I didn’t know she’d be here,” I say at last. “She left me for Mischa Ivanov. My rival, the man I hate.”

Her eyes widen with disbelief. “Your fiancée left you for the man who killed your parents?”

I nod. “She wanted a different kind of power than I offered.”

The light from the torches dances along the curved driveway, reflecting in her dark eyes. Emotions collide on her face.

Compassion.

Hurt.

I wish we were alone instead of here at this party.

Fuck it.

I close the distance between us, take her face in my hands.

The surge of adrenaline when I touch her, when we lock gazes, is real.

The pull between us is real.

There’s only one woman I wanted on my arm tonight. And since she left it, she’s been missed.

A familiar car pulls up the drive, pulling into her peripheral vision, and Rae steps back.

She reaches for the door, but I slam it shut with a hand.

“Don’t go,” I bite out. “If I’ve made you feel less in some way, I’m fucking sorry.”

I need her to understand how hard I’ve worked to get what I have, to keep it. That letting a person come between me and my revenge nearly cost me everything.

She pries my fingers off the door one at a time.

“Don’t be sorry, Harrison. Be better.”

As the car pulls away with her inside, I’m left feeling empty and frustrated in a way that has nothing to do with Christian and the deal.

11

RAE

The next morning, there’s a message on my social profile asking for an interview.

I message back:

If this is about what happened in the spring, I don’t do interviews.

There’s a reply almost instantly.

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