Page 21 of Beautiful Enemy

He found my suitcase when the airline couldn’t. Through what, some kind of billionaire black magic?

Relief surges through me, though it’s short-lived when I remind myself who’s responsible for it.

His voice follows me to the door. “You may buy replacements for anything missing from your luggage and charge them to my account, with one exception. I do not tolerate my employees on drugs of any kind.”

Son of a…

“And don’t forget my jacket.”

I sprint down the hall and unzip my suitcase, tossing clothes and wigs and toiletries out onto the floor.

The pill bottle is zipped into an inside pocket.

And it’s empty.

7

Harrison

My father used to say, “You can’t control a man’s thoughts, but you can command his actions.”

In other words, you can’t make him like you, but you can make him bend to you.

That’s what I’m intent on doing today in the office—forcing men’s hands.

One man’s hand in particular.

On paper, Christian Geroux owns Ibiza’s greatest club.

In my mind, it’s already mine.

I’ve wanted it since I was twenty-one.

Finally, I got word he’s open to selling. I won’t waste this chance.

But making headway amassing the greatest collection of entertainment venues in the world requires the right frame of mind.

I finish my outdoor workout before seven, ready to take on the day and already thinking about my meetings and strategies for my next acquisition.

I’m not thinking about the young woman I installed in my villa.

At the time, it seemed like a way to supervise her. I regretted the decision the moment she tripped into my office uninvited yesterday, towed by my dog like a water skier behind a furry yacht.

After acting as if she’d have cut off a limb if it would have gotten her out of the contract she’d signed, she flipped my deal and proposed a new one.

Negotiation 101. When you have all the leverage, there’s no need to make further concessions.

But she caught me off guard, and I was curious what had changed for her since the night before when I’d set her in a cab with my favorite jacket around her shoulders.

The one I found swimming in my pool the next afternoon, the chlorine doing God knows what to the wool and the striped lining.

I ground my teeth together as I retrieved it with a cleaning implement, looking up to be sure she wasn’t watching from her balcony.

She’s nothing like the women I spend time with. She says she doesn’t care for money or wealth.

Except she asked for a raise.

Which means, on one level, she’s exactly like the women I spend time with.

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