Page 6 of Beautiful Enemy

A ringtone sounds, but the call breaks before Toro answers.

Shit.

I scan my surroundings, my gaze landing on the busy road.

“You have an exceedingly low opinion of me,” King calls from behind me as I head for the street, searching the horizon for a cab.

I spin to face him. “I’m surprised you care what my opinion is.”

His expression flickers with emotions I can’t read before he slips into aristocratic arrogance once again. A resting asshole face if I ever saw one.

“I trust your attorneys looked at the terms for failure to fulfill your contractual obligations,” he goes on.

The wind blows my fallen hair into my face, and I set my bag down at my feet to shove it back with vicious hands.

“Thanks to you,” he drawls, “one of my top-performing venues became the worst overnight. You will recover what you cost me. For the next month, I own you. If you try to leave, I will sue you for every dollar you own. I will take your computer“—he picks up the bag at my feet, and I tense—“your music. Every scrap of clothing in your wardrobe and on your body.”

Each word lands on my chest like a brick. Judging by his cruel expression, that’s exactly what he intends.

“What. No response?” he chides softly.

Breathing is hard. We’re outside, but it’s as if the greedy asshole has consumed all the oxygen.

I’m usually the type to rebel with silent resistance, but something about his arrogance brings out my confrontational side.

I refuse to go down without a fight. There are too many bullies in this world.

When I finally speak, my voice is remarkably level.

“If it takes litigation to get a woman naked…” I snatch my bag from his hands. “Your game needs work.”

His mouth twists in disbelief, as if he’s just as shocked by my words as I am.

Before he can respond, the horn of a car honks and a cab pulls over to the side of the road.

I reach for the back door of the car, my heart still thudding.

“If you try to leave, I will sue you for every dollar you own. I will take your computer. Your music. Every scrap of clothing in your wardrobe and on your body.”

Even as the car pulls away from him, I can’t kick the sickening possibility he’s right.

For the next month…

The man who ruined me owns me.

3

Rae

When the cab pulls up to the sandstone villa perched halfway up a winding road and sheltered by a lush hedge of greenery, I can barely appreciate its beauty.

Judging from the size, this villa is more like a boutique hotel than a resort. When I enter, backpack in tow, a woman looks up from where she’s vacuuming. I don’t spot a concierge or front desk, so I approach the woman.

“I’m supposed to be staying here tonight.” I reach for my passport, but she stops me.

Her face brightens as she clasps my hand between both of hers. “Sí,señorita. I am Natalia.” Her voice is warm and welcoming. “I will show you your room.”

She leads me up a staircase and down a hall with doors on either side, half a dozen in total.

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