Page 85 of Beautiful Enemy

In a month, this place has become familiar in a way I never asked for. The leather seats of the VIP stools creak predictably. I know the names of all the security guards and most of the bartenders. Even Leni and I have become more acquainted through working on concepts for my nights here.

“You know that having you close on a Saturday was Harrison’s idea,” Leni says. Under my stare, she finally rolls her eyes. “Fine, I didn’t argue much. You’re going to be big. It’s clear to anyone who watches you. You’re not so Little, Little Queen.”

She nods to my outfit, a fitted, sleeveless gold dress with a raven black wig, plus eyeliner that makes my eyes look even darker than usual. It’s a subtle channeling of another queen.

“It wasn’t a snake bite,” Leni says. “Cleopatra, I mean. The artists tell whatever stories they want,” she waves a hand in the air, “but she poisoned herself. A tragic end.”

“A realistic one,” I correct. “The most powerful people spend their lives fighting external battles. It’s the internal ones that get them.”

Leni clunks the empty glass back on the bar. “You should stick around for the rest of the summer. We could find a couple nights a week for you here.”

Surprise sets me back. “I have some other gigs lined up in July and August, but nothing for a few weeks. I guess I’d have to talk with Harrison. I haven’t seen much of him in the last couple of days.”

He said he’s been working on persuading Christian to sell him La Mer.

“Since your birthday.” She rises with a wink, nodding toward the headphones around my neck.

I’ve barely taken them off because they’re precious in a way that has nothing to do with the diamonds I can’t begin to value.

But as she goes, I stare after her, wondering exactly how much Harrison told her.

I know he and Leni go back, that she’s the right hand of his business, but what happened on that yacht is personal. At least it was for me.

The birthday party was spectacular, but the part that left the biggest impression was the time I spent with him on the top deck that night.

I’m supposed to leave in two more days, and maybe that’s the last moment we’re meant to have together.

If it was, I should be grateful. When I arrived here and learned who I’d be playing for, I thought there was no way I’d make it through the month.

Now, I’ve turned around this club that deserves to be full, earned enough money to help my cousin keep the doors of her charity open, and met a man who makes me question everything.

That’s why I don’t want to think my birthday was our last night together. I’m not ready to let him go.

I shove it from my mind and put the finishing touches on my set.

When I get to the stage, I’m home. The crowd erupts, delight on the faces of hundreds of men and women.

The music is in me, around me, consuming me.

The countless hours I put in were worth it.

Tonight, in this club that’s as close to mine as anything ever was, pieces of that persona fall away.

I love this club.

The patrons love me.

It’s not enough.

When I look up toward the VIP section, Harrison’s leaning over the railing.

My heart kicks in my chest at the fact that he’s here.

I wanted to believe he wouldn’t miss this but couldn’t be sure.

He’s alone tonight, dressed in another impeccable suit. The bespoke armor clings to every inch of his hard body. Those shadowed eyes bore into mine as if he knows me.

I want to be known.

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