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The floor tilts under my feet, and I press a hand to my stomach as if it’ll stop the sudden lightheadedness.

“I just finished meeting with his lawyer, and your name came up.”

He swallows once, again, as if forming words takes an unusual amount of energy. “Did something happen with Zach?”

“I’ll take that water.”

He listens while I explain what happened ten years ago. I expected it to be impossible, but I’ve told Harrison and Annie, and the practice seems to have made it easier.

“Raegan, I don’t know what to say.” He rubs both hands over his face.

“Mom and Dad didn’t want to deal with it. I heard them arguing about it. Mom was pissed, but Dad said no one would take it seriously.”

“I didn’t know what the problem was, but I saw the guilt eat at them whenever I visited,” he admits.

“How close are you and Zach?”

Kian straightens, his face a mask of agony and disbelief. “He stood up for me, but now… I don’t know how I’ll look him in the eye again.”

“Dr. Madani?” The receptionist is at the door, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, but you wanted me to keep you on schedule.”

“I’ll be right there.” He nods, and she looks between us before walking back down the hall. “What do you need from me, Rae?”

“You didn’t have my back then. Have it now.”

The emotions swirling in me as I leave are less about what happened then and more about processing the news that Zach’s been arrested.

There’s no way Zachary Whelan went from a career to a future in a jail cell, or that he did something that got him caught in the last few days after a decade. I don’t believe in coincidence when Harrison King is concerned.

It was Harrison. It must have been. He’s the only thing that’s changed in this equation.

Was he waiting for updates while we were fucking in his office? What about in New York, the night before my show? Had he already put this in motion?

When I head over to Harrison’s place, I’m remembering how he said we aren’t like normal people. The reminder of how easily he can wield that power and for whatever he wants hits me like a bucket of ice.

23

HARRISON

As I pull up to the building, my phone rings with a number from Spain.

“Christian,” I say when I answer. “What a pleasant surprise. We’re not due to talk for another three days.”

I toss my keys to the valet as Christian’s cough comes over the line. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

I stride through the door held by the doorman and straight into my elevator.

“I’m selling La Mer to Mischa.”

My grip tightens on the phone. “What did he offer? I’ll match it,” I go on as the elevator reaches the top floor and the bell dings.

“It’s not a price you can match.” His voice wavers. “It’s over, Harrison.”

I force myself out into my penthouse condo, standing in the middle of the entryway in front of the mirror.

The luxe backdrop blurs. Nothing matters except the man on the other end of the phone.

“You wanted me to investigate my parents as a way to bide time and run up Mischa’s bid.”