Page 16 of Beautiful Enemy

I start to shrug out of the coat, but he stops me.

“Keep it.”

What kind of a man is fastidious enough to wear designer suits but doesn’t care about giving one away to spare me a few moments’ chill? Before I find a good answer, the cab pulls up.

As I drive away from Harrison King for the second time today, I finger the edge of the jacket.

I’m alone again.

The rush of relief I expected doesn’t come.

6

Rae

“Have you found my bag?” I press a hand to my face to stifle the yawn. It’s noon, and I managed two hours of fitful sleep in the luxurious bed at the villa.

“Unfortunately not.” The woman at the airline repeats the words I heard yesterday about reimbursement as I flop onto the bed and drop the phone next to me.

I stare longingly at the bedside table, where my bottle of pills would typically be. Instead of my belongings, the only way I’ve personalized this room is by throwing Harrison’s suit jacket over the lampshade until I can figure out what to do with it.

After, I make a call to my attorney, who says there’s no clear loophole to get me out of this contract and avoid the damages written in—which I never thought I’d be in a position to consider.

My options are already thin. To add insult to injury, my suitcase might be lost for good.

I’m stranded in Ibiza without options, my pills… even a damned razor.

The jet lag is messing with my head.

My workout clothes were in my checked bag, so I pull on my sneakers and the skinny jeans from yesterday.

One glance in the mirror over the dresser shows my hair is a mess of craziness. I yank it all up into a ponytail before I peer out into the hall. No sign of anyone.

When I reach the top of the stairs, rapid shouting in Spanish comes from below, ending with, “Get back here!”

Then I’m attacked.

A big, black dog with brown eyes barrels toward me, leaping. His paws hit my thighs, his lolling tongue licking at my arms.

I catch him awkwardly.

“My apologies, señorita. He loves people,” Natalia calls up the stairs from the doorway of the kitchen.

The creature lets me set his paws back on the ground but continues to eye me as if I’m the only thing he’s wanted his whole life.

“His master hasn’t had time to take him out for his walk today. I was late finishing my errands yesterday, and…”

Probably because she went to get me clothes.

“Are you going for a walk? Would you take him? He’s no trouble.”

Guilt has me saying, “Ah, sure.”

We never had pets growing up. My parents are both in tech—my dad left Tehran for computer engineering at UCLA. They’ve always kept long hours, and though their careers meant my brothers and I never suffered materially, a dog would’ve been one too many interruptions for their goals. My mom used to say, “At least you kids clean up after yourselves when you’re old enough.”

Sometimes, we were better at that than other times.

I take the stairs down as Natalia gets the dog’s leash and fastens it on, meeting me at the front door with a grateful smile.

---