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I make it down the hall without incident, then trip at the top of the stairs. Strong arms grab my waist, my ribs, before I can spill down to the first floor.

“Are the shoes the wrong size?” Harrison murmurs at my ear.

“No. They’re the wrong style.” I go on at his confused look. “If I wanted eight more inches, I’d have asked for it.”

“And I’d have given it to you,” Ash declares, making me grin and Harrison glare.

Toro greets us outside. “Beautiful,” he says, beaming at me.

“Thanks. I had the dress in my suitcase.” I wink, and he laughs. “What about this car?” I nod to the vintage Rolls-Royce, a departure from the usual Mercedes, complete with a chrome ornament on the hood.

“Had it in my basement,” he teases, and it’s my turn to grin.

Since I arrived in Ibiza, we’ve found a handful of moments to talk. In the car, I learned Natalia is his wife and that they’ve worked for Harrison’s family a long time. One day, when I found him working in the garden outside, I insisted he let me help him. In exchange, he told me about his daughter.

He misses her. It’s clear from the way he speaks about her.

But he and Natalia enjoy taking care of the house, and Harrison and Ash are extended family to them.

Toro goes to help me into the back of the car, but Harrison holds the door first. I shift into the middle, Ash claiming the other side.

“This is cozy,” Ash says pleasantly.

We’re pressed tight, my shoulders brushing both of theirs. But it’s Harrison’s I’m most aware of, his body that makes mine tingle.

“So, whose place is this?” I ask, trying to settle my nerves.

“Christian Geroux. A businessman,” Harrison states.

He looks as if he’s going to say more but pulls out his phone and frowns at it.

When Ash leans forward to talk with Toro, I glance at Harrison’s screen, doing a double take. “Whoa. That font is size a million.”

“What are you talking about? It’s barely legible.”

“You need reading glasses.”

Harrison presses his lips together and refuses to say more as we head to the party, his strong profile a dark outline against the lights beyond the car.

The idea he has a weakness pisses him off like a business deal gone sour. I smirk the whole way to the party.

The villa we pull up in front of is every bit as sprawling and impressive as the one I’m staying in. More formally designed and decorated, it’s meant to be enjoyed by guests as opposed to the people who occupy it when the lights go out.

There are terraced gardens flanking a curved driveway, discreet security in tuxedos at either side of the door. Twinkling lights are just visible on some patio along the side.

We head in through the front door, staff immediately descending to offer us drinks. I’m distracted from the sudden surge of nerves by the gorgeous house, every wall filled with art, every corner with lush plants.

On the terrace, a hundred people are milling about. There’s a six-piece band in one corner and a dance floor. Torches light the huge outside space, with recessed lighting on the inside.

“This place is incredible,” I murmur to Ash.

“Christian had it built as his holiday home. He spared no expense. He never does.”

Before long, people are approaching us—approaching Harrison mostly. When pressed, he introduces me as Raegan. No one calls me Raegan, but as unsettling as it is, there’s something new about it on his lips.

I’d been expecting Harrison to be distant like in the car or confrontational like every other time, but he’s the opposite. He stands close enough to steer me with a hand on my back, but his presence feels protective rather than controlling.

For a minute, I wonder what it would feel like to be on his arm for real. He’s a king here, and not only in name. This world he plays in, he runs it.