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“You, my Little Queen, will play for me. La Mer,” he whispers, and my head snaps up in shock. “One month from tonight.”

HARRISON

There’s a chance. Not a good one, but a sliver.

I’ve been reviewing documents for Kings—the ones I shelved months ago—to see if there’s a hope of reviving it.

Because the fire marshal won’t say for certain that I didn’t set fire to the club myself, the latest reports suggest insurance will cover only a small portion of the damages. But I could leverage capital from other projects and put it back together.

It feels worth hoping for.

My date with Raegan only solidified my convictions.

Once, I wanted revenge. Now, I want it done with so I can have a future with her.

Which is why I’ve compiled all the intel I’ve gathered on Ivanov and sent it to the authorities, including the inside information I didn’t trust them to use effectively.

I have enough resources to protect everyone I care about from Mischa until they figure out how to bring him down.

It’s the early hours of the morning, and I’m finishing a drink when I hear the car I sent for Raegan pull up the driveway.

Barney lifts his head from where he’s lying on the floor of my office. I rise from my chair and start for the door. When Raegan is around, I’m more eager than the damn dog.

She refused to have my security in her venue, so they waited outside, a call away.

I’m halfway down the hall when the villa door opens and she steps inside. My footsteps on the stairs have her looking up.

Her costume is intact, black leather shorts with a bodysuit beneath, showing off her long, curvy legs. The blond hair spills in waves over her shoulder, contrasting with her dark, lined eyes.

“You waited up,” she murmurs, stepping out of her heeled sandals.

I cross the floor to her, and the knot in my chest eases with each step. “Barney wouldn’t sleep until you returned,” I say.

Her eyes search mine, relief filling them. “You raid Sebastian’s closet?” she murmurs, taking in my appearance.

I’m barefoot in shorts and a polo, and I chuckle.

“Dry cleaning day,” I contend, unable to resist reaching for her. My hands thread into her hair as I claim her full mouth.

Her hand finds my chest, pressing over my heart. She lets me part her lips with my tongue, moans when I take the kiss deeper.

I want everything deeper with her. I’ve always been the one to push, and she’s been the one to hold me at a distance. But she’s not holding me at a distance now. She grabs the back of my shirt, then strokes up my back. Her touch heats my skin instantly.

We’re alone in this house. I want to fold her over the kitchen table, take her until she’s gripping the sides and groaning into the wood. Then carry her upstairs and love her in my bed.

Before I can, she pries her lips from mine.

“What’s wrong?” I demand.

Her eyes turn glassy, and alarm sets in my gut. “Mischa wants me to play La Mer.”

I grip her arms, hard enough she flinches. No.

“He came to my show and?—“

“He spoke to you. In person.”

She nods.