Page 84 of Beautiful Sins

Like it’s my fault my boyfriend is a billionaire with a magic fucking tongue.

The rest of the afternoon is fun, and it’s almost twilight by the time we leave.

“You’re right,” I say as Harrison navigates the roads from the Hills. “We should stop at the club.”

He cuts me a surprised look. “Since when?”

I lift a shoulder. “Since now.”

He reaches over to take my hand in his.

When we turn onto the street, the sun setting behind us and leaving long shadows from trees and buildings, Harrison starts to tense.

High in the air, lights beckon, growing brighter with every second.

“What the…?”

My breath hitches. “We’re not even in the parking lot,” I prod.

He ignores me and parks the car on the street, shifting out to stare up at the marquee on the side of the building.

Kings.

It’s lit up in orange and gold, shaped like a crown. It reminds me of the Ibiza summer or a Phoenix rising.

I round the car and lean against his side. “Everyone who sees this will know it’s yours. We wanted to surprise you. Okay, I wanted to surprise you,” I amend. “Leni helped.”

How we see ourselves is important. How Harrison sees this place is important.

He grabs me and pulls me against his hard chest. His heart hammers through the clothing that separates us, but it’s his expression of awe that humbles me.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmurs against my hair. “When you said I could put Ivanov in the past, I didn’t believe you. But now, seeing this place, it feels possible.”

“You don’t need to protect your parents’ legacy anymore. You can have your own.”

His arms are an iron grip around me.

* * *

It’s three in the morning, and I’m awake.

Not because I’m stressed or anxious. Because I’mhappy.

We’re lying in bed together, Harrison asleep while I replay the moment he saw the sign I ordered over and over, when the phone vibrates on his side of the bed.

He stirs, groaning before he reaches for it to answer.

The moment he does, his gorgeous body tightens, and he shoots to sitting.

“Since when?”

He curses, and alarm bolts through me. I grab for his arm, but he’s already halfway out of bed and still on the phone.

“What is it?” I demand.

Harrison hits the lights by the door before moving to the dresser to grab clothing. He drags on sweatpants, still listening.

“What’s wrong?” I repeat, shifting out of bed after him.

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