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“That day, everything fell to him, legally and practically. He kept me out of the investigation into their deaths. Dealt with their business interests dissolving. It didn’t make him crumble; it made him more resolved. You can call him lots of things, but when he commits to something—someone—he’ll see it through or die trying.”

My chest aches as I think of Harrison, younger than Ash and I are now, being ripped from his education and confronting not only his parents’ deaths but the fallout.

“I still hate him half the time,” I admit.

“It’s the other half that’s interesting.” He pauses. “While they were engaged, Eva tried to get Harry to step back from his business, supposedly because she wanted time together. Turns out it was so Mischa could get a toehold in markets where his business was strong.

“La Mer would be the final nail in his coffin. It’s the biggest venue in the world, the most prestigious. Harry gets it, Mischa loses. It won’t bring our parents back, but he thinks it’s something.” Ash rubs a hand over his jaw. “Most people want to be near my brother for his money or his reputation. You see the man he could be, like I do.”

The invitation hangs between us.

It’s impossible to forget that amidst Harrison’s compulsive desire to empire-build is a genuine protectiveness for his family, a desire to do right by the people he loves.

Because he does love, in his way.

He put his brother first in a time when he himself was grieving and broken. He buys cars for Toro that the old man adores. Hired Leni as his right-hand woman and allows her to be her quirky self.

Judging by the champagne bucket of waters that arrives when I start to lose myself in a set, he even intervenes on my behalf.

“And if he succeeds in growing his business and buying La Mer, you think he’ll be that man?” I ask.

“I think he can let go of his grief and have a chance at it.”

I stare at the coffee machine, the encouragement implied by it. “Eleven hundred thirteen isn’t enough.”

“Enough for what?” Ash demands.

“It’s nowhere near,” I say, ignoring the question as I grab the note and crumpling it up before tossing it in the trash.

I pull up my social and message the reporter back to say I’ll meet her.

Harrison

“This is everything.” It’s a question, but it comes out like a statement as I stare at the manager of BLUE, my LA club.

“Every incident report filed against the club in the past three years,” he says.

The stack must be fifty pages thick.

I flip through and skim dates, names, looking for patterns. The only pattern is that there is none, except perhaps for the bare-bones information.

These aren’t “reports.” They’re bookmarks with handwriting on them.

Judging from the paperwork in front of me, the staff here sees their primary job as making things go away.

“I asked for this information a month ago,” I say.

“I’m sorry, Mr. King. Staffing is tight.” He presses his lips together. “There’ve been budget cuts the last two years?—”

“Fine.” I’d told my managers to tighten up on existing properties to allow us to expand new operations.

Don’t be sorry. Be better.

Rae’s words echo in my head.

Traveling on business has never felt strange or lonely, but this week feels like both. I’ve gotten used to having her around my house and around me.

The gala was days ago, and I can still feel Rae’s presence. I swear I catch her scent on the air when I step out of a car or off a plane.