Page 87 of Beautiful Sins

It’s been hours since I got here. I have no idea how many as I’ve been subjected to countless tests and questions. My lungs burn from the smoke. I’ve been turning over what happened.

How I arrived at my new club to see it engulfed in flames.

I ran inside to see if I could find the root of the damage.

Raegan appears in the doorway, dressed in clothes she must’ve pulled on in a hurry, her hair tugged up in a messy knot. Her face sags with relief when she sees me, before her brows pull together in concern.

“You’re here.” My words end on a cough. I grab water from the table, swallowing rapidly.

“I got to the club soon after you did.” Rae brushes past the nurse to my side.

I crumple the paper cup in my grip. “I told you to stay at the condo.”

The words are harsh, but she doesn’t flinch.

“I’m supposed to watch the man I love walk away? I don’t think so.” Her lips twitch. “Besides, you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

I glance down to take in the hospital gown. “Christ.”

“They were out of Brioni.”

My eyes narrow, but her fingers thread with mine, making the IV tug. It’s nothing compared to the pain to come.

“They said it wasn’t the sign,” she whispers, and if it’s possible, I feel worse at her expression of guilt.

“It wasn’t the sign,” I tell her firmly. The beautiful sign she arranged to have put up while I was distracted.

Unfortunately, that distraction had a price.

“But there’s no surveillance footage of any vehicles in the area, anyone who could’ve shown up to set the fire. They said they’ll canvass other businesses in the area to look for clues.”

“They won’t find anything.” My words are biting, and she flinches.

“Why not?”

“Because Mischa did this.”

Raegan’s dark eyes blink. “He has La Mer.”

“It’s not enough.”

Tonight, I realized how serious Mischa is.

This is more than business. It’s personal.

He won’t rest as long as I’m succeeding. As long as there’s a chance for my happiness.

She grabs a visitor’s chair and drags it to my bedside, perching on the edge. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out the book in its protective casing and hands it to me.

“They’re still going through the building,” she murmurs as I turnThe Count of Monte Cristoin my hands. I managed to get to the office and retrieve it before the fire reached that part of the building. Thanks to its plastic casing, the book is relatively intact. “Leni’s figuring out how much can be salvaged, but I’ve never been so glad it’s a concrete brick. The bones are there, and the insurance should pay for the rest.”

The businessman in my brain says even if it does, we’re now months behind. We’ll be burning cash, possibly at unsustainable rates.

“None of that is the problem,” I say as I set the book in my lap. “Heis.”

The object of my vendetta, the one I was ready to set aside so I could have a life with the woman in front of me. He won’t let me set it aside.

Which means I have no hope of building the future I want, the one Raegan deserves, without stopping him.

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