Page 76 of Beautiful Revenge

Dean lifts his chin once, pushes through the atrium doors, and disappears against the flow of guests being ushered into the building.

“You’ll be okay.” I lean down and press my lips to her forehead. She tips her head back to stare up at me through anxious, dark eyes. But I see it in her expression. She doesn’t believe me.

I’ll prove it to her. There’s no fucking way I can lose anyone else.

Harlow

Devon brought me straight to his office, inspected the bump on my temple, and checked my pupils for dilation. When he was convinced I’d still be alive upon his return, he kissed me so deeply, I felt it down to my toes.

And that’s saying something since my emotions are numb from shock.

Then he looked me in the eyes and made me promise not to leave the safety of his office.

He didn’t have to ask me twice.

The threat of my nightmare almost became reality. Not going through with theI domade me think I was safe, but it was obviously a false sense of security.

I left my cell at the tennis courts and have no idea how toget hold of him should I need anything since his number is saved in my phone.

But Chrissie’s number is etched in my brain. I can at least check on my dad, let her know what happened, and that I’m okay.

I figure out how to dial an outside line from Devon’s office phone. On the fourth ring, I worry it’s going to go to voice mail, and I’ll have to spam her with call after call, because being shot at necessitates being just that annoying, but she finally picks up.

“This is Christine.”

“Chrissie? It’s me. I’m calling from the office line at the manor.”

“Damn, Harlow. You know I hate to answer unknown numbers.” Like normal, she just keeps talking. “It’s official—I will do anything for you, answer unknown calls and deal with the step-monster. Janie is all up in my ass about you calling off the wedding.”

My voice cracks. “Chrissie?—”

But she doesn’t let me get a word in. “I told her since she put the brakes on my being in the wedding, this is the last thing I’m helping with. She should go ask her country club friends for help.”

I try again. “Chris?—"

“I thought you had a tennis match. You were looking forward to it. I told you I was going to update you on your dad later today.”

I fall into Devon’s office chair, cradle my head in my hand, and say nothing. Just listening to Chrissie’s endless chatter helps me breathe.

But the chatter comes to a standstill, and her tone turns hesitant. “Harlow? Are you there?”

I swallow over the boulder in my throat. “I’m here.”

“What’s wrong?” she demands. “You’ve said, like, two-and-a-half words. I know you. Something isn’t right. What happened?”

All of a sudden, my head is pounding so hard I feel like my eyeballs might pop out of their sockets from the pressure. I yank my pony loose and lean back in Devon’s chair to close my eyes. I try to focus on anything other than the vision ofblood seeping from Roman’s body. It doesn’t matter how unnerving he was before it happened, he was shot.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I was shot at.”

I don’t even get a pause for her to process the information. I have to pull the phone back from my ear when she exclaims, “What the fuck? By a bullet?”

Damn.

That doesn’t ease the headache coming on.

“Please don’t scream. My head hurts.” I wince. “But, yes,what the fuckwas my exact sentiment.What the fuckcould be the tagline that represents my life these days. I was hit by a tennis ball shooting at least seventy miles per hour out of the machine, and then there were bullets.”

She lowers her voice. “You mean you were hit by a tennis ballandshot at with an actual gun?”