Page 29 of Beautiful Enemy

“Because I give a shit whether you pass out on stage or in the middle of a crowd?”

“You don’t care about me. I saw you up there, hosting a dozen men exactly like you. All you care about is whether I’m making you money.”

My summer home has turned into a hostile place. I’m walking on eggshells in a house with my damned name on the deed.

If I’m going to keep her around, it would be easier if she didn’t think I was the devil.

“Follow me.” I walk to my Ferrari Roma, then ball up my jacket and throw it in the rear seat as I shift into the front.

The seat molds to my body as I lean back against the headrest and wait.

Seconds tick by.

Finally, the passenger door clicks open, and I feel her shift inside.

“Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?”

“Would’ve been far easier to do it in your sleep.”

“You don’t do things the easy way either.”

My lips press together as I start the car and shift into gear and pull out of the parking lot.

“My parents died of an overdose,” I say once we’re on the road. “Both of them, the same night. Fourteen years ago. That’s why I don’t tolerate drugs in my business.”

I grip the wheel tighter as I navigate the streets.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice is low, the contrition genuine.

“You didn’t know?”

It was in endless media outlets at the time. They were senior executives at a massive international organization, plus visible contributors to a dozen charitable organizations in the UK and abroad.

“I would’ve been ten.”

Fair enough.

She leans an arm against the window. “The pills you found were prescription. For anxiety. I haven’t taken them regularly for months, but I like having them just in case.”

Relief blurs with guilt.

“Why were they in an unmarked bottle? And in your checked bag, for God’s sake?”

“Why not? I wasn’t expecting the airline to lose my suitcase.”

Fuck.

I navigate to a place I would know with my eyes closed, then I pull into the parking lot.

“Where are we?”

I shift out of the car and retrieve a bottle of Glen Scotia from the boot. “The first time we came to Ibiza, I was eleven. Ash was a baby. My parents bought a villa here when I was thirteen. I lost my virginity in that house.”

Rae shuts the passenger door. “I hope she was well paid.”

I glare as she shifts up onto the hood and turns to look out over the sand and surf. “They left it to you when they passed?”

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