Chapter Eight
London
I stare at the tiny particles of light dancing on the hardwood floors. Slowly, I raise the cup to my lips.
Katia is standing near the window, half-turned away from me.
She turns when I approach, and her dark eyes survey me quickly. “Coffee break is over. Time to go.”
I frown. “Can’t I go for a walk or something? The weather is nice.”
Katia purses her lips. “Not now.”
I open my mouth to protest, and Katia’s arm darts out. She pulls me behind her, and a second later, Jack Payne walks into the kitchen. He opens a cupboard and takes out a mug. When he sees us, his expression tightens. I hold myself still as his face darkens.
A chill races up my spine as he studies me, and Katia shifts so she’s almost obscuring me.
Without looking away, Jack pours himself a coffee. “Such a waste.”
Katia stiffens. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”
Jack arches a brow in her direction. “You’re busy playing babysitter. When you’re done wasting your time, come and find me.”
In one quick gulp, he downs his drink.
He casts another look over his shoulder, but I remain rooted to the spot until his footsteps recede.
Once they do, my shoulders sag, and I exhale.
My legs still feel unsteady as Katia moves away and closes her fingers around my wrist. I don’t protest as she drags me out of the living room and toward the stairs.
Katia glances from the unmade bed to me.
Finally, she releases my wrist and scowls.
I step into the room and turn to face her, but she’s melted into the shadows. Reluctantly, I let the door click shut and turn back around, the silence of the room closing in around me. Frowning, I cross over to the nightstand and yank the first drawer open.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I use the burner to dial my father’s number.
It rings a few times before disconnecting.
“Goddamn it, Dad,” I mumble, with a scowl. “Why aren’t you picking up?”
My heart is pounding uneasily as I try him a few more times.
By the fourth try, sweat is pouring down my back and neck, and I can’t shake the dread.
I cross over to the window, push the curtain aside, and fling the windows open. Early afternoon light warms the bridge of my nose, and the rest of my face, and I inhale deeply. Then I close my eyes and clench my hands into fists.
A loud bang pierces through the silence, and my stomach drops.
I look down at the phone.
My mother answers on the fifth ring, her voice subdued and uncertain. “Hello?”
“Mom? Thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while. Are you okay?”
“London, is that you?”
Some of the tightness in my chest eases. “Yeah, it’s me. Have you heard from Dad at all? We got into this fight—”
“He told me all about it. What have you gotten yourself into, London?”
“I know what it looks like, and I’m sorry the two of you got dragged into my mess, but I’m—”
“Your father thinks you orchestrated the kidnapping just to make him forget the fact that you spent months lying about where you are.”
A laugh falls from my lips before I can stop it. “What?”
“He thinks it’s an elaborate scheme to get him to forgive you. Honestly, London, I don’t know what to think.”
I grip the phone tightly and begin to pace. “How about giving me the benefit of the doubt, Mom? You haven’t even heard my side.”
There’s a voice in the background, and it takes me a minute to place it.
I stop pacing. “That’s Dad, isn’t it? I can hear him.”
“I wanted to surprise you with a visit, and when I stopped by the house, I thought it was strange that your dad wasn’t there—”
“You didn’t go into the house, did you?”
“I was only there for a minute,” she interrupts. “I called your father, and we agreed to meet up because he’s worried about you.”
I exhale sharply. “I’m fine. It’s you two I’m worried about.”
“Are you fine? Based on everything your father told me, you seem far from fine, London. Who is this guy you’re involved with, and how could you lie to your father like that? After everything he’s done for you.”
“After everything he’s done for me?” I pull the phone away from my ear in disbelief.
Then I press it to my ear again and count backward from five.
“What about everything I’ve done for him?
I only lied to save him because of that ridiculous loan he took out.
I had to… I made a deal to work off his debt. I did this for him.”
What other choice did I have when they threatened to take the diner away?
Entering into a contract with Mason to pay off my father’s debt was one thing.
I had agreed to work at Mercy, an exclusive underground club that operated in the shadows, because I saw no other way out.
It’s not like I planned to fall in love with Mason and stay.
I don’t expect my parents to understand, and I certainly don’t think my father will own up to the role he played in any of this.
Even if he willingly entered into an understanding with Mason’s lackey.
I’m not waiting for either of them to roll out the welcome mat, but they can at least stop acting like I’m out to hurt them.
Knowing that neither of my parents believes me hurts.
“Yes, he told me about the loan, but don’t you think there was a better way to resolve the whole thing?”
“I’m all ears, Mom. I’m not going to apologize for doing what I needed to do to save Dad. And I didn’t plan a fake kidnapping just to get back in his good graces. You know me. You know I wouldn’t do that.”
Mason’s enemies were a step ahead, and targeting my father and ex to get to me had been the plan all along.
It was why they’d taken me in the first place.
I still woke up in a cold sweat at night, imagining myself in the silent room with iron bars on the windows and a guard posted outside. A small part of me still can’t believe that Mason swooped in to rescue me.
My mother sighs. “I don’t know what’s happening, London, but it doesn’t feel like we know who you are these days. You are not the woman we raised.”
I suck in a harsh breath, and my ears start ringing. “I’m still me, Mom.”
“You need to take a long and hard look in the mirror, London. The woman we raised wouldn’t have made these choices or jeopardized her future. Don’t even get me started on what you did to poor Noah. He wanted a life with you, and he treated you well.”
There’s a lump in my throat as I swallow.
In a daze, I listen to my mom outline all of the ways I’ve failed, and I realize she’s not wrong.
This isn’t the life we talked about, the one I dreamed about and worked toward for years.
In the blink of an eye, I turned my back on everything I’ve known, and I can’t even tell my parents why.
Even if Mason and I hadn’t agreed it was for the best, neither of them would understand.
As far as they’re concerned, Mason is to blame, sent to tempt me and lead me astray, and nothing I say or do will make them believe otherwise.
By the end of her tirade, a heavy ache settles into my bones. I perch on the edge of the bed and listen to my father ranting in the background, and tears prick my eyes. Once she’s done, I bow my head and try to keep the tears at bay.
Crying won’t change what my parents think of me, and it won’t make what I did to Noah any better.
Mason is right.
Emotions are a nuisance, and they have no room in this life. My new life.
“Fine, Mom. I’m a major fuckup,” I interrupt.
I stand up and curl my free hand into a fist. “But it doesn’t change that I did what I did for the right reasons, and I didn’t call to have you list all the ways I’ve disappointed you.
I know you can’t understand my decisions, but I at least expect you to make your peace with them. ”
“London—”
“We’ll talk about it later when we’re all calmer,” I continue. “Just please stay safe. Both of you.”
Without waiting for a response, I hang up and squeeze my eyes shut.
A heartbeat later, I cross over to the door and wrench it open.
Katia falls into step beside me as I take the stairs two at a time, needing to drown out the roaring in my ears.
I find Mason’s office and give a quick rap on the door before throwing it open.
Mason is sitting behind his desk, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and a drink in hand.
He motions to Katia, who disappears and pulls the door shut behind her.
Slowly, he stands up, and his eyes sweep over me. “You look like you want to kill someone.”
I cover the distance between us, wind my fingers through his hair, and kiss him.
Mason growls and yanks me toward him, the low thrumming in my ears drowning out everything else. I nip his lower lip, and he makes another sound that goes straight to my core. Abruptly, he hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he carries me over to the armchair and sets me down.
His eyes are dark with hunger when he pulls back to look at me. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to talk,” I tell him, pausing to pull my shirt over my head. “I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. “You might want to think this through.”
I unhook my bra and let my breasts spill forward, and Mason raises an eyebrow. “No, I told you, I don’t want to think. I just want you. Right here. Right now.”
Mason purses his lips together. “Not like this.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
Mason’s fingers move to the buttons of his shirt. In a few quick moves, the shirt falls to the floor with a flutter. Wordlessly, he walks backward, his eyes never leaving my face. Then he turns the lock with a click.
“I realize we should’ve had this conversation a little earlier, but I was thinking of other things at the time.”
I give him a blank look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Why isn’t he kissing me?
Why isn’t he drowning out the vicious voice in the back of my head reminding me of all the ways I’ve failed?
Why does he have to choose now, of all times, to have a conversation?
“Boundaries. A safe word,” Mason says. “If we’re going to keep doing this, you need to feel safe.”