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Epilogue
RAE
Six months later
The crowd is amazing.
From my raised platform, I get a look over the top of the dance floor to the booths circling the floor at the Vegas club.
In the two months since my residency started, each time I take the stage, my mind is blown again.
Still, tonight is special.
I take a sip of the vodka soda in front of me, the buzz going to my head. I spent my life keeping secrets, but suddenly I have news, and I can’t wait to share it.
The nearest booth is occupied by half a dozen execs in suits with Harrison in the center.
I take advantage of my angle and drink him in. His sharp jaw and nose, firm mouth, muscled shoulders and chest beneath the custom suit.
I send a text quickly after a transition.
Rae: Charm them yet?
He glances at his phone, typing with a smirk.
Harrison: That’s your job.
He shoots me a hot look and pockets the device before returning to his conversation.
This isn’t his club, but he came to see me, and brought some prospective partners to discuss collaborating on a new project. While he didn’t give me all the details, I’m praying it works out.
Harrison likes Vegas. It suits him, its flash and flair with an edge beneath the surface.
He has zero problem getting businesspeople to come here to see him, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised how little he’s traveled since we arrived here.
I don’t hate it either.
While we spend most of our time living at our penthouse at the Wynn, we do days off in LA and we’ve been to London twice to see Ash.
The only wrinkle is that a top DJ is normally travelling two hundred nights a year or more, something we knew we’d have to take a hard look at once my residency was up.
I can tell Harrison would rather stay put. But it hasn’t been clear how long we can make that work.
I refocus on my set, and the crowd is lost in the music, in me.
At one point, I see the execs shake hands like they’ve done a deal.
I dash off a text.
Rae: Looks like my magic worked.
This time, Harrison looks my way in an instant. His expression, full of love and admiration, steals my breath.
He lifts a hand, and I think he’s going to flip me off. My heart kicks as I think of our old Ibiza tradition.
Instead, he blows me an air kiss.
Fuck me.
