Page 82 of Beautiful Sins

“No time,” I pant in response.

“Wasn’t asking.”

* * *

Harrison

Eventually we make it to Tyler and Annie’s place in the Hills. Apparently, Tyler rented the house last year while he was finishing his album and just bought it. It’s stunning, modern and white with a pool facing the view over West Hollywood.

Most of the couple dozen people at the party are familiar. Annie’s father, Jax Jamieson, semi-retired yet still fully the most famous rock star in the world, along with his wife and their two young children. Rae’s friends Beck and Elle.

“The ice sculpture is beautiful,” Annie says, half-serious and half-amused as she surveys the giant form now occupying their table.

Rae snorts and turns to me. “Isn’t that what you sent them for their New York housewarming?”

“It is. It’s why we also sent something else. Because it’ll melt faster here.”

Her laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside, and fuck if I don’t love that sound more every time I hear it.

Annie tugs Rae away to talk with Annie’s stepmother, Haley, and I head out to the patio with Tyler and Beck. I can’t help admiring at the view—not of the ocean, but back at the house. The family and friends all around.

There’s love here. The kind I’ve missed since my parents died and the kind I hadn’t let myself hope for since long before Eva.

“Who’s your realtor?” I hear myself asking.

Tyler turns toward me, looking surprised. “I thought your penthouse had three bedrooms.”

I shrug as I lift my glass to my lips. “A man always wants more.”

He and Beck exchange a look before Tyler shakes his head.

“Does Rae know about this?” he asks.

“I find it’s best to work out the details, then start working on her.”

They grin.

“Damn,” Beck says. “She’s got you.”

I cut a look over my shoulder to see Rae inside with the other women. I love her, and the way she told me she loved me too today… it was everything.

I’ve been thinking about what I’d do if besting Mischa wasn’t my only goal. Ceding La Mer always felt like a failure, but I’ve never considered what I’d gain. I could experiment with complementary business lines that interest me. Perhaps smaller venues in new markets. Partnerships with the local community.

Echo Entertainment could slow down and look the fuck around, and so could I.

“Harrison King, family man. Whatever would the tabloids say?” Beck says, smirking.

“He’s not a family man yet,” Tyler comments. “Did you see the announcement for the new club?”

“Kings,” Beck chortles. “You’ve been in the States too long, friend. Whatever British tendency to understatement you had is gone.”

Beck pulls up the social post on his phone—the one that went public through dozens of influencers who’ve committed to opening night, plus my company, scores of media outlets, and, of course, Little Queen.

“Everyone in the world will be watching you,” Beck notes.

I cast a look at Rae talking with the other women. “Fucking let them.”

We toast.

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