Page 77 of Beautiful Enemy

“I still think about that night,” I admit. “Your mom’s birthday.”

I trace the shape of the scars on his chest with a finger, brushing his shirt back so I can.

“Tell me what happened?”

It’s a request, not a command. And when I meet his gaze, I have the feeling he’d tell me anything I wanted.

“Mischa.”

My stomach twists, and it’s not from the alcohol. “He did this to you? You told me it was at boarding school.”

I think again about his words. How everyone’s teenage years are fucked up.

He nods. “There’s a tradition when you win head boy, you get marked by the boy who lost to you. It’s a sign of mutual respect. Teachers don’t condone it, but they tolerate it. There was only one time in our school’s history it got bad and a kid almost bled out.”

My eyes widen.

He says, “Usually it’s a letter. A few shallow scores with a pocketknife.”

“Yours is a crown.”

“Thirteen cuts. Prick fancied himself an artist. Took four days for him to complete it,” he says, grimacing.

“You didn’t complain?”

“No. Nearly passed out once, but I didn’t say a fucking word.”

“You’ve hated him since you were a boy.”

“He’s hated me,” Harrison corrects. “Since my parents left his parents’ business. They told Mischa to convince me to work for them, to be groomed for the same position my parents held. I turned him down in no uncertain terms. They weren’t happy with him, and he’s hated me since. It’s why he was so intent on taking Eva from me. Now, I want to finish him. Put it behind us once and for all. La Mer is the nail in the coffin.”

I turn that over.

The world of buying and selling businesses like they’re moves on a chessboard feels so far beyond me. But at the same time, it’s not.

Because what they’re chasing isn’t the money.

It’s the feeling.

The feeling of being right. Justified.

Of laying your head on the pillow at night and being satisfied you did the best you could.

“She’s missing out,” I murmur.

He laughs. “Trust me, if Eva wants a yacht, he’ll get her one.”

“Wasn’t talking about the yacht.”

I press my hand over his heart.

His lashes tremble as his gaze searches mine in the dark.

I can’t deny how I feel anymore. It’s not only attraction. I care about him, whether I have any business caring or not.

I want to distract him from his sadness, the effects of the sea beneath us. “Come on. Let me show you what I’m working on for my final show.”

He shifts onto the lounger and sits behind me. I move between his legs and tug the blanket over both of us. His hard thighs wrap around me, making it impossible to focus entirely on my computer.

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