Beautiful Ruin (The Enemies Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  3

  Harrison

  “The robots are suspended from the ceiling to do what—acrobatics?” I demand.

  Sawyer leans in, looking impatient. “They serve drinks, you pretentious asshole.”

  The trendy pub in Brooklyn gave us their prime seating—two low-profile couches and a glass coffee table. Tyler Adams’s security is positioned between this section and the rest of the room, dissuading anyone who thinks of coming over or taking a picture.

  Mostly, he’s watching three grown men have an argument.

  “They run on a track”—Sawyer gestures to the space over his head—“along the bar.”

  “I figured the only club robots were the kind that danced on stage,” Tyler comments.

  Sawyer shakes his head. “You can use robots for photography, AI for optimizing what’s captured. There’re clubs in London with interactive walls where you can create your own light displays.”

  The man across from me is Sawyer Redmond, cofounder of a major tech and industrial company. He’s one of a few men I’ve met who is taller than I am and wearing a Boss jacket and designer jeans like he doesn’t give a fuck. His long, unruly hair falls in his face every time he moves, making me itch to grab a fistful and saw it off with a butter knife so I can look him in the damned eyes.

  I’m here to see Sawyer about business, but when Tyler said he was in town, I suggested we meet. The only time he had free was now, so I figured I could see two friends at once.

  “Sawyer and I went to school together,” I inform Tyler. “He was this genius prodigy. Pulling straight As in senior engineering. Hope they kept you warm at night.”

  “You mean while you used your accent to fuck your way through the female population? You wind up with any souvenirs of that time in your life? I hear chlamydia’s a bitch to kick.”

  “Seems it worked out,” Tyler comments, slinging an arm over the back of the velvet couch.

  It did, on paper. Sawyer cofounded his company and is on the way to making himself a wealthy man. I have an empire. One my enemy wants to burn to the ground—starting with Kings last year.

  I told myself I could move on and have a future untainted by my past, but Ivanov seems determined to make sure that’s not true.

  The police weren’t able to find the man responsible. I know Mischa was behind it, but I can’t prove it.

  Since then, his reach has only expanded with new acquisitions fueled by drug money.

  I’ve used the time to regroup.

  I will get revenge.

  That’s the only thing that matters.

  Doesn’t hurt that you’ve lost everything else.

  A woman comes in the door with a stroller, drawing every eye in the room. She’s young and pretty, her red hair tucked up into a bun on her head. She could be a student.

  Tyler turns to look over his shoulder as if there’s an invisible cord between them.

  “He’s whipped,” he comments as her security guard offers to take the stroller and Annie waves him off. But the second her eyes land on her husband, a smile curving her lips, Tyler’s off the couch and at her side.

  Sawyer and I exchange a look. “Yeah. It’s security who’s whipped,” he comments. “Figured musicians were supposed to play the field.”

  Tyler bends to check in the stroller before straightening, pulling his wife against him for a hard kiss.

  “He doesn’t. They’re in love.” I refocus on my friend who’s still here, leaving Tyler to fawn over his wife.

  “You envy him,” Sawyer scoffs.

  “Love is an exquisite diversion from the more brutal parts of life.”

  Last year, I didn’t only let myself fall—I practically held the door for both myself and Raegan. At first, I thought I could handle it. Having her at my side felt natural.

  Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, it switched from natural to necessary. She claimed me, not the other way around. She brought out emotions I’d never felt before, hopes and ambitions I never expected.

  After Mischa burned down my property—the future Raegan and I were building together—I vowed I wouldn’t let him get away with it. But the farther away I put that in my rearview mirror, the harder it is to remember why I left the woman I love.

  I was the one who ended our relationship.

  I knew I’d miss her. I didn’t expect to lie awake until morning, wishing I knew what ceiling she was staring at.

  If she was alone like I was.

  If she was lonely like I was.

  But there’s no place for Raegan in my mission.

  In the last eight months, I’ve doubled down on growing my own business, plus invested in having Mischa and his operations surveilled. There’s been some sabotage back and forth, me trying to provoke him, but I want it to be done.

  What I never told her was that I hoped it would be over soon. That I could find my way back to her when it was done, that I could force my way back into her heart.

  It was harsh of me to leave her.

  It would have been cruel to promise to return with no guarantee I could.

  I force my attention back to the man sitting opposite me. “I‘ll take three of the bartender robots.”

  “They’re fucking expensive, Harry.”

  “And I’m fucking rich, Sawyer.”

  He grins. “Fine. But technology’s not your real problem.” He shoves his hair back.

  Sawyer has a way of seeing straight to the heart of a situation. It comes from his brutal upbringing—while mine was charmed, at least until I was a teenager, his was the opposite. He scraped by.

  He’d say he’s thriving, and few would argue with his track record and accomplishments. But every victory has a cost—a personal one, if not a public one.

  I shake my head. “The prick who was responsible for my parents’ deaths.”

  They might’ve been ruled overdoses, but it wasn’t their doing. No matter what other ills they were responsible for, they never touched drugs themselves and raised us the same way.

  “The police want to nail him for drug trafficking and a raft of other evils, but their timeline feels… infinite,” I go on.

  Sawyer’s eyes darken. “You trust a bunch of paper pushers, you’ll be the one bleeding out.”

  He’s speaking from experience. But before I can respond, Tyler and Annie and the stroller approach.

  “Congratulations,” I say, fixing on a smile.

  “Thanks, Harrison.” Annie’s tight-lipped. “You didn’t need to send the stroller, but it’s great. It does everything except handle my calendar.”

  My smirk fades when Tyler says, “Would you like to hold Rose?”

  “I don’t think—“

  Before I can protest, he presses the sleeping bundle into my arms.

  Christ. She’s all pink and soft, and as her weight settles in my arms, she’s not heavy, but precious. She twitches as she wakes, and eyes, dark brown, with little flecks of gold, blink trustingly up at me. Her tiny nose wrinkles, her mouth working. She has a full head of Annie’s red hair, and if she has an ounce of her father’s talent and her mother’s fearlessness, she’ll be a force.

  She’s innocent and loved. I hope it’s a long time before she sees the darker sides of the world.

  I clear my throat, glancing back up at my friends. “I can see you in her,” I tell Tyler.

  “Hopefully not for long,” he says dryly, tugging his wife against his side as I look back at the baby.

  A flash goes off.

  “For posterity,” Annie says, tucking the phone away as Sawyer and Tyler strike up a conversation.

  I’m not sure what she means. “You want a photo of your child with a villain?”

  “You’re not a villain. Or if you are, she didn’t call you one.”

  Annie holds out her arms. I hand the baby back.

  Rae’s probably told her I’m a massive prick for how we ended things.

  “What did she call me?” I can’t help asking.

  Annie’s gold eyes s
hine with emotions—a damn rainbow of them. I can see why she’s a capable actress. She hitches Rose higher in her arms. “Rae was at an event last night. In London.”

  It feels like a lifeline. “London? But Wild Fest just happened this past week.”

  “And you know her schedule.”

  I’m caught out. “I want to make sure she’s safe.”

  “I was rooting for you guys. Even though it sounds like she’s moved on.”

  With a furtive look toward the stroller, she hands the baby off to Tyler, then retrieves her phone again. She taps the screen a few times before holding it out.

  The social media account belongs to my brother’s football club, and the date stamp on the post says last night.

  The photo on the screen is a kick in the gut.

  The woman I love is stunning in a slinky black dress that skims the floor, plunging low between her breasts. She’s gorgeous, glamorous, and unlike the Raegan I met a year ago. Her skin glows in the light from the venue and the flashbulbs, her lips full and painted a dark plum. Her dark hair falls in waves around her shoulders, clinging to her perfect breasts.

  But it’s not her body that makes it impossible to look away.

  There’s a confidence she wears the fuck out of.

  I rip my gaze away from Raegan to take in her companion and get a kick in the gut for my efforts.

  Next to her is my brother. His hand rests on her ass and his lips are near her ear, her half smile an afterthought for the cameras given whatever he’s telling her.

  I clench the phone hard enough my forearm shakes.

  This whole time we’ve been apart, she was still mine from a distance.

  Mine when I got off to the memory of her.

  Mine when I went to bed questioning whether losing her was worth pursuing the one goal I’ve had since before I was a man.

  She doesn’t belong with Ash, not at his side or in his arms.

  “Harrison. Are you okay?”

  Annie’s voice is far away, and I shove the phone back at her.

  I’m halfway to the door when Sawyer calls after me, “Where should I send the robots?”

  4

  Harrison

  “What do you mean he’s not in London?” I growl over the phone. “Where is he?”

  After the short, tense conversation with one of my staff—whom I’d instructed to drop in on my brother when he wasn’t answering his phone—I determine Ash’s current location, along with the company he’s still keeping four days after the event.

  I’m checked out of my Manhattan hotel and on my way to the airport an hour after the close of the business day. The entire chartered flight over, I stew.

  When my plane arrives in Ibiza the next morning, I jump in a car, realizing I haven’t called Natalia or Toro to let them know I’m coming. An omission that catches me when I barge into my house.

  Natalia appears over the upstairs railing. “Dios mío! Señor King.”

  She gets over her surprise and runs down the stairs.

  “I’m fine,” I assure her.

  Her concern turns to scorn. “You didn’t call. Toro is out with Barney. I have been working on the gardens.”

  “I would very much like to see them. Later.” My jaw clenches. “I need to find my brother and Raegan. I thought they would be here.” I scan my memory for the hotel Ash stayed in last summer. “I’ll be back.”

  Halfway to the door, a voice stops me. “No, señor.”

  I do a double take because it’s the same tone she used to scold me for eating all the salami before my parents’ friends could arrive for brunch.

  I arch a brow at her glowering face and folded arms. “Toro will be back soon, and he will drive you. In the meantime, I will show you the garden.”

  “I hope you will be… kind.” Toro’s gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror.

  “I have lots of things to discuss with my brother. None of them are kind.”

  Like where the hell he got off asking Raegan out, not to mention thinking he could touch her the way he did.

  I knew they were friends, but I always figured their common bond was me. I didn’t expect them to stay connected without me.

  I stare out the window, cracking my knuckles.

  “Would you like to hear the news of the island?” Toro asks as he deftly navigates the curving roads.

  “Fine.”

  “Your dog has learned to roll over on command. There is a new hotel in Ibiza Town.” He proceeds to regale me, and I half listen until he says, “Ivanov came to the island early for the season.”

  I straighten. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You haven’t been around.”

  My teeth grind together. That feels like the damned refrain this week. I’m running a billion-dollar business. I can’t be everywhere at once.

  “I’m here now,” I mutter as the car pulls up outside the hotel. I leap out without waiting for my driver to hold the door.

  In the lobby, I tell the concierge, “My brother. Sebastian King.”

  His eyes widen with fear, and he names the room number. He doesn’t want to piss me off.

  I jab the button in the elevator, and when the doors open, I stalk down the hallway and bang on the door. Silence greets me.

  They’re probably out.

  Images of them strolling the boardwalks, eating ice cream, and other such nonsense fill my brain.

  Or they’re inside and the reason they’re not answering is that they’re otherwise occupied.

  I pound on the door again, hard enough it rattles in the frame.

  At last, footsteps sound on the other side.

  The hairs lift on my neck, and I brace myself for a fight. I’m expecting to see Raegan, but when the door cracks, it’s not her.

  “Hawhoh, brozuh.” Sebastian peers out from the gap in the frame, his mouth full of something, the chain lock still engaged.

  “Where is she?” I demand.

  “Who?”

  I slam a hand against the door, and he jumps.

  “Calm down, man.”

  “Sebastian, if you don’t open this door…”

  His gaze runs down my form. “You’re wrinkled, Harry. You blow in on a tornado?”

  I reach through the gap and grab his shirt. “Open. The damn. Door.”

  Eyes widening, he reaches for the chain and slides it open.

  I push the door in and step inside before he can think of getting me back out. My brother looks completely at ease, including the amusement in his expression. He’s wearing a T-shirt and boxers, eating…

  “What is that?”

  “Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Raegan brought it for me from America.” The sound of her name on his lips reminds me why I’m here, why my blood pressure feels dangerously high, before he grabs another bite. “This is good, Harry. They’ve been holding out on us.”

  I hit him, hard enough the blow or the surprise sends him to the carpet.

  The bowl falls from his hands, and cereal flies everywhere—his face, the carpet, the foyer.

  “Jesus,” he gasps, rubbing his jaw. “Did you have to do that? Waste a perfectly good bowl of the stuff? This was almost the last—“

  “What’s going on?”

  We both freeze as Raegan emerges from the hall in the suite. She’s wrapped in a white towel, her hair dark and dripping around her shoulders.

  When she spots me, her mouth falls open. She’s obviously stunned to see me, emotions chasing one another across her face. Disbelief. Anger.

  “What did you do?” she demands.

  It’s half her sudden appearance that slams into me and half how she looks.

  Fresh, wary, beautiful.

  The woman I spent months loving and even longer aching for is here, a few feet away.

  “Not nearly enough.”

  Before I can think twice, I step over my brother and cross the room, grab the back of Raegan’s neck, and drag her to me.

  I crush her lips beneath mine. She tastes like toothpas
te and home, and I kiss her with desperation and anger and exhaustion.

  Every trip I’ve taken, every time I’ve reminded myself my decision to leave was for the best—it all took a toll on me. From the outside, I might look as powerful as ever. On the inside… my soul corrodes.

  I need her.

  My tongue slips between her lips, stroking and claiming as my fingers tighten in her damp hair. Her scent is floral from her shower, but beneath that, it’s all Raegan.

  A wet hand grabs my forearm and pushes me away.

  My heart hammers as I take in her swollen lips, her hazy eyes.

  Of all the decisions I’ve made in my life, I’d regretted exactly one—telling my parents to get out of the business and causing their deaths.

  Since I learned they weren’t trying to leave, that regret faded away, replaced with rage and confusion. The past year, I’ve been angry at them, and at Ivanov for killing them and setting me on a path that made me build a business that would redeem and honor them.

  But around the anguish, I’ve found a new regret: losing this woman.

  Because I can’t regret loving her, not when the feel of her under me is so jarringly exquisite.

  Before I can speak, her palm cracks across my face.

  Stars explode behind my eyes, a riot of white and black blossoming as pain radiates up my cheekbone and jaw.

  When I can see again, my neck is craned awkwardly and I’m staring at Sebastian reclined on the floor and chewing a piece of rescued cereal.

  “Fuck,” he declares. “I’ve never seen a woman hit you before.”

  But when I turn back to Rae, she looks surprised by her own reaction.

  “We need to talk,” I say. “In private.”

  “No.”

  Frustration rises up. “I’ll take you for dinner.”

  “I have a show tonight.”

  “It wasn’t on your schedule.”

  I catch my mistake at the same time she does.

  “A recent addition,” she says.

  She’s changed since I saw her last. Besides the quiet confidence that’s more than skin-deep, she has “recent additions” that come up, independent of me apparently.