Page 151 of Enemies

“A cuff?”

“Figured it was more your style than a tennis bracelet.”

The bracelet is simple and elegant. Edgy too. It would take on the style of anything you wore with it while maintaining its own classic perfection.

When I lift it from the case, it’s heavier than I expect.

“Does it come with a lock and key? I assume this is to keep me from running away again.”

He doesn’t laugh. “It’s to tell you I’m not leaving.”

I shift in my seat, fidgeting as I look away. “The most expensive gift I’ve ever gotten was from my parents after…” I trail off, shaking my head. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Harrison’s eyes grow flinty, and the words hang between us long enough I feel like a fool.

Maybe I misread this. He’s been spending a lot of time with me, but now a lump rises up my throat at the idea that he’s not in this the way I thought. Jealousy. Insecurity. One ugly emotion after the other, and I can’t shove them away fast enough.

I’m the girl who didn’t want commitment. And now, suddenly, I do?

I turn away, but he plants his hands on either side of my hips.

“Labels like ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ aren’t for people like us.” My chest tightens, twists, but he plows on. “We live at the edge of success and failure. Where falling down causes more than a scratch. I see you. You might be young, but I know you. When I fuck up, it impacts thousands of people. When you fall, they feel it. I will be with you when you do.

“There’s a name for that. It’s not ‘girlfriend.’”

I turn the bracelet in my fingers, and my gaze lands on the inscription.

My Queen.

My heart stops.

It’s not about me or about him. It’s about us. The magic that happens when we’re together.

The way I feel when I’m around him.

I was afraid the feeling was fragile or that I’d be fragile if I leaned on it. But I realize it’s not. And I’m not.

“I hoped you’d like it.” There’s uncertainty in his voice. “If not, I?—”

I press a finger against his lips. “Put it on me.”

16

RAE

The slippery feeling on my skin won’t go away.

My eyes blink open. There’s a hint of the sun coming through the curtains in our hotel room, but the clock says it’s nine.

Harrison is asleep next to me—unusual for him. I steal the chance to watch him, his aristocratic nose, firm mouth, thick lashes. Golden hair falls over his forehead, his firm chest rising and falling with his breath. The scar he’ll never erase, the one that seems carved into his brain as much as it’s carved into his body.

I’m starting to see the power of forgiving your past while it feels he’s going deeper into his. The worry he carries worries me, for him and for us.

I play with the bracelet still on my wrist, glinting defiantly even in the dull light. It’s nothing I would ever buy myself, but the more I look at it, the more I see me in it—the inscription, which makes my stomach quiver with an emotion I can’t name out loud, but also the cuff. It’s not classic jewelry, and it’s even more special for it.

He asked me to keep it on after we got back.

Since we returned to the hotel, it’s the only thing I’ve kept on.

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