Page 83 of Beautiful Enemy

When did I go soft?I wonder as she heads toward the patio.

“Lovers’ quarrel?” A familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. “What a shame. You’d be perfect together.”

I turn to see my ex hovering in the hall.

Her blue cocktail dress compliments curves I once memorized. Now, Eva is a piece of art that doesn’t resonate—the objective quality is irrefutable, yet she leaves me cold and unmoved.

“I’d run right over her.”

“Precisely. You need a woman who lets you be the man you are.”

“Like you did?” I’m surprised to hear there’s no bitterness in my voice.

She frowns. “A woman who wants all of you will never have you. You are on this earth with a purpose, and you will die to fulfill it. You would never die for me.”

I smirk. “Who would’ve bought you jewelry if I had?”

“A woman who demands more from you… you’d wear one another down.”

I turn that over. “Perhaps that’s the point. Sanding one another’s roughest edges doesn’t make you weaker—it makes you better.”

The door of the study cracks down the hall, and I turn my back on Eva’s stunned expression.

“Mr. King?” Christian beckons, and I trade places with a smug-looking Mischa.

I ignore the seat my host offers, instead resting an elbow on the back of the armchair. “I have a DJ for La Mer. She’s young, but she’s talented. Capable. Charismatic.”

I tell him about Rae’s success filling the club while he listens thoughtfully.

“You are quite taken with her.”

“I’m confident she’ll be an asset to the stage.” I pause, unable to read him. “You want to hear my vision for the club? Here it is—”

“Marry Sylvie and the club is yours.”

I’m stunned silent. Of the things I expected he’d ask in exchange for his club, this isn’t one of them.

Christian continues. “Not immediately, of course. Court her. Take what time you need. What time you both need. I worked hard on my business and my family. This club is like another of my children. I want to see it in the right hands.”

Sylvie’s attempts at seduction in the kitchen were sweet, if wholly misguided. But the man before me is serious.

I don’t point out the archaic nature of what he’s proposing—his child for his club. Clearly whatever her father said to her made her think I would be an attractive partner. And she’s not alone in that.

Women take a look at me and decide who and what I am, whether it’s money, an attractive package, a ticket to the right social circles.

I never had a problem with it.

I spent months engaged to a woman more caustic than Sylvie could ever be, one with ambitions that clashed with mine, though she hid them well. Christian’s daughter would be more loyal, and amenable.

But it’s none of those thoughts that has my body clenching in denial.

It’s the thought of another woman entirely.

One who sees what I am on the surface and insists I could be more.

One who wants mein spite ofmy money and power.

One I may never be with… but ruling that out entirely feels like a rip in my soul.

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