Page 154 of Enemies

“You got all that from meeting him once and seeing him on TV?”

“How could anyone not get that?” Beck chuckles. “Things must be going well if you’re DVR’ing the little bro’s games.” The look on his face tells me he won’t put up with me holding back on account of his broken heart or for any other reason.

“He gave me this bracelet.”

I hold out my wrist, and Beck grins. “I’m glad he’s taken his head out of his ass long enough to know you’re the real deal. That’ll go with the dress you ordered.”

He points at a garment bag in the living room that I somehow missed. I shift off the couch and unzip the bag.

“All you need is a billionaire on the other arm to match,” Beck says.

“Harrison’s not coming.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I didn’t invite him. Him being there would complicate things.”

“Seems to me if you trust him, you should give him a shot with the family,” Beck goes on. “The guy’s heavy handed, sure, but he cares about you. I saw it when he crashed our dinner. If you’re worried he’ll go AWOL and interrogate Grandma over spinach puffs, tell him to stay in his lane or he won’t get invited back.”

“It’s not my life I’m worried about him fucking up. If he talks to the wrong people…he’s not going to like what he finds.”

I thought Harrison knew my secrets, but this morning I learned there’s one thing tying my past to the future he wants. The one he needs.

I won’t put that future at risk, even if I have to hurt him to do it.

Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door. A huge guy with a buzzed head is on the step, dressed in a black suit and sunglasses. There’s a handheld radio on his belt.

“Who are you?” I ask.

Those glasses slide down his face as he addresses me. “Security, ma’am.”

“Whose security?”

“Yours.”

17

HARRISON

“You’re still angry about the security,” I say, surveying my girlfriend from the four-poster bed where I’m lying fully clothed. “That’s why you won’t let me come to this wedding.”

“You arranged it without my knowledge or consent. Sent an armed meathead to Beck’s door?—”

“I would’ve thought he’d enjoy that.”

Rae’s quiet, even for her, industriously gathering her bag, lipstick, fussing with her hair in the mirror of our boutique hotel in Napa.

“That’s beside the point. It’s not why you’re not coming to the wedding.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She straightens, turning to look at me. She’s beautiful, her blue dress hugging curves I dream about every second I’m not touching them. Her eyes are dark, lined to make them darker, her lips full and parted. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders thanks to a curling iron she burnt herself on while she was finishing.

“You can’t come because it’s family and in public and a cesspool of emotions and damage, and I didn’t ask for a plus one. Especially a plus one who’s recognizable and infamous and going to draw attention like a magnet.”

Frustration rises up. “So, I’m good enough to drive you up here but not to attend the ceremony.”

“That’s bullshit.”

---