Page 9 of Beautiful Enemy

I straighten my suit. “Thank you, Toro.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

I frown. “It’s a Thursday night like any Thursday night.”

Except it doesn’t feel like it. My body is humming, braced for a fight or coming off of one.

I shift out before Toro can open my door. He follows me around anyway, stubbornly taking the car door in his aging hands as I fasten my jacket.

“It’s a new club. The renovations are only just complete. And new talent,” he goes on as I start for the entrance.

I pull up, turning to cock my head at him. He only nods before retreating to the driver’s side.

New talent indeed.

I head to the back door. Security stands at attention when they see me.

A man with a purpose is dangerous to the world.

A man without a purpose is dangerous to himself.

When I enter a room, it’s to tell people what I want and make it immediately clear I’m going to get it. The faster they see that, the more painless it is.

My first acquisition was dirty and spare, cobbled together like the money I used to finance it. Now, I stride down a private hallway used for deliveries and talent, absorbing the fresh paint and shining floors with a grim satisfaction.

When I bought Debajo, everything was in disrepair, as if its name meant not only “beneath” but “forgotten.”

It takes a particular eye to see what others miss. But for a man who looks beneath the surface, one who’s as relentless as he is patient...

There is treasure to be found.

Now, the club is a cool kiss. An elegant reminder of how far I’ve come.

I wish my parents could see it.

The twinge in my gut sneaks up on me, lingering like the burn of bad whisky.

A budding actress who’s rising to stardom makes her way toward me, coming from the direction of the club.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she purrs, the telltale enthusiasm of alcohol lingering in her voice as she stops in my path with an inviting smile. “Haven’t seen you stateside for way too long.”

“You came to find me and enjoy my hospitality,” I reply evenly. “So, my plan worked.”

She slips her hand inside my shirt, and I smoothly withdraw it, my grip firm enough there’s disappointment in her eyes.

A hundred men in this place would take her home tonight.

I’m not one of them.

I used to enjoy beautiful women, particularly ones who made a lifestyle ofbeingenjoyed.

No more.

Not since I let myself believe one could stand at my side and be what I needed. Trusting a woman with my life, my home, my future, cost me far more than the years I invested in that relationship.

It won’t happen again.

I straighten my shirt before I continue down the hall, making eye contact with the security guard at the end and nodding to him to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t find trouble.

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