Chapter Twelve
London
I sigh and let the curtain swish back into place.
Slowly, I wander over to the burner phone on the nightstand and pick it up. The screen is blank, and there’s a bad taste in my mouth as I put it down and ignore the knots in my stomach. With a frown, I walk back to the door and press my ear to the wood.
It’s unusually quiet today.
Even Katia is nowhere to be seen, although I’m sure the assassin is just blending in nearby.
I hold my breath as I tug on the doorknob, and the door creaks open to reveal Katia polishing a dagger.
“You’re pathetic,” she says.
I open the door the rest of the way and frown at her. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I know you two got into an argument yesterday. Pretty sure the whole house knows, and without Mason, you are a sitting duck.”
“No, I’m not.”
Mason and I had exchanged a few terse words about the argument, but it still lingered between us.
I had no idea how to make it better.
But maybe ignoring it was a good place to start.
Katia’s eyes sweep over me, stopping at my bare feet. “You’ve had a good run, Blondie. If it makes you feel better, you lasted a lot longer than any of us thought you would.”
I stiffen. “I am not going anywhere.”
All couples have fights, and Mason and I are no different.
I will not let one disagreement ruin what we have and what we’re trying to build.
Katia scoffs and slowly sheathes her dagger. “It’s only a matter of time. You could do yourself a favor and get it over with. Have some self-respect.”
I force myself to count backward from five. “Does this kind of thing usually work for you? You enjoy intimidating anyone Mason takes an interest in, don’t you?”
Katia shrugs. “You keep telling yourself that you’re different, but you aren’t. Sooner or later, his father will take away his shiny new toy, and when he does, you’ll wish you were dead.”
I tilt my head and study her. “It really bothers you that he chose me, doesn’t it? You think you’re a better fit for him because you’re from his world.”
“I am a better fit—” Katia begins.
I interrupt before she can go any further. “And yet, even when there was no one else around, he still didn’t choose you. You’re never going to mean more to him. You’re convenient because you’re there.”
Katia’s expression darkens. “I should’ve left you in that club.”
“I’m sorry he didn’t choose you,” I reply in a quieter voice. “It must be hard for you, watching all of this.”
I have no idea why I’m trying to find common ground, but I have enough enemies within these walls, and I don’t feel like adding Katia to the mix.
Having Mason parade me around when she’s held onto the hope that it would be her must sting.
I remind her of what she can’t have, and whatever anger and resentment she feels toward me is justified.
I can’t imagine being in her shoes.
I know I shouldn’t push my luck with her when she could easily attack me and make it look like an accident, but I don’t care.
I’m tired of being thought of as helpless and weak.
If you’re going to survive this, you’re going to need thicker skin, and you need to get over the fact that Mason has a past. You do, too.
Granted, my past isn’t standing across from me, looking like they’d like to put a bullet in my head, but I won’t hold Mason responsible for what came before me.
The only way for us to make it through is to stick together.
Unless his father finds a way to get rid of you first.
Before Katia can respond, a radio crackles at her waist. She takes a few steps back and barks out something in a language I don’t recognize. Then she levels me with a withering look and turns her back on me. I remain in the hallway for a while longer before forcing myself to move.
At the foot of the stairs, I spot Mason heading toward me.
Once he reaches me, I realize two things at once.
The first is that he’s giving me the same small, gentle smile that makes my heart flutter.
The second is that he has a black eye.
With a frown, I take his hand, and he allows me to tug him back into the room. As soon as the door shuts, I lead him to the bed and wait for him to sit down. Wordlessly, I duck into the bathroom and blink against the fluorescent lights. A moment later, I’m rifling through the medicine cabinet.
Mason fills the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“You need a better first-aid kit,” I respond without looking at him. “Or your own hospital or something.”
Mason snorts. “We already have an on-call doctor. This was me blowing off some steam and it’s just a black eye.”
I turn to face him and raise an eyebrow. “And I got run off a bridge a few days ago.”
Mason’s smile vanishes, and he straightens his back. “That’s different. You could’ve died.”
“Infections can kill, too.” Without waiting for his reply, I stalk past him and back into the room. Mason follows me and sits on the chair I pull out for him.
“You can’t compare a car crash to an infection.”
I take a piece of cotton out of the box and douse it with disinfectant. “You shouldn’t keep things from me either, but here we are.”
Mason exhales and lets his arms fall to his sides. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have lied about Elise. I didn’t think you’d understand.”
I kneel in front of him and press the cotton to the small cut over his eye. “You should get some ice for that.”
Mason grunts quietly.
I stop cleaning and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Does this have anything to do with what went wrong yesterday?”
Mason presses his mouth into a thin line.
For a long time, he says nothing, and then he slowly nods.
I withdraw my hand and look at him. “Was it your dad?”
Mason doesn’t say anything.
I release a shaky breath. “He’s working hard to make sure all other dads look a lot better in comparison. Suddenly getting grounded for sneaking out doesn’t seem so bad.”
“He won’t be getting any Father of the Year mugs.”
I return to cleaning the wound. “Is he ever going to stop punishing you?”
Mason shrugs. “Maybe. I can take it.”
“You don’t have to.” My touch grows softer. “I don’t know how things work in your world, but I’m pretty sure being the head of the family gives you some leverage.”
“I’m the head of the business, not the family,” Mason corrects gruffly. “But he’s still Jack Payne, and no matter what I do, I’m always going to come up short.”
My throat is suddenly dry. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
I stop cleaning and let my eyes sweep over him, from his smooth, arched brows, down the slope of his nose, and over his sharp jaw. He’s giving me an odd look.
“What?”
“You’re not responsible for other people’s mistakes, London,” Mason says quietly. “It’s not up to you to save the people you love, especially if they don’t want to be saved.”
“I was going to tell you the same thing.”
Mason makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat.
I reach for his hand and lace my fingers through his. “I know we’re not a normal couple. I know violence is a part of your world, but you can talk to me about these things.”
Mason searches my face.
Suddenly, I’m not looking at the man who’s clawed his way to the top of an empire. I’m not looking at the man who has watched the life leave other men’s eyes.
I’m not even looking at the man who offered to let me take my father’s place because he wanted me. I’m looking at a little boy who desperately wants his father’s approval, and it makes my heart feel impossibly tight.
Poor Mason.
I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up with a father like Jack Payne always looking over your shoulder and waiting to punish you.
What kind of father does that to his children?
A sudden burst of anger courses through me as I stand up and throw the cotton into the trash can by the door. Mason stands up and walks over to me. His touch is soft as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ears.
“I can handle my father,” Mason repeats. “No matter what he does to me, do not go after him.”
I nod.
Mason wraps an arm around my waist. “Good. There’s only enough room for one reckless person in this relationship.”
I raise an eyebrow. “We can’t take turns?”
“Absolutely not.”
I frown. “We’ll see.”
Mason shakes his head. “I have some work to do. And I’ve got some important people visiting.”
“You want me out of the way?”
“It’s safer for you there.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Even after the shooting?”
Mason’s expression tightens. “Yes.”
I blink. “I don’t understand.”
Mason blows out a breath. “My father isn’t at the club, and it’s safer than visiting your parents…”
“Is this you trying to compromise?”
Mason frowns. “Take the win before I change my mind. Katia will take you.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond.
All I know is that there is a warm buttery feeling in the center of my stomach because I know how hard this is for him.
Maybe there’s some wriggle room after all.
I pause, a small smile hovering on the edge of my lips. “Okay. I appreciate this.”
Mason grunts then his mouth is scorching against mine.
Before I can deepen the kiss, he wrenches himself away and walks out. I touch two fingers to my lips and wait for my heart to stop pounding. Katia is waiting by the door when I come out a short while later. In silence, she leads me down a series of hallways that end at the back door.
The late afternoon sun is on my back, but the warmth does nothing to ward off the chill in my bones.
Miss Deveroux lets us in through a back door, her usual kohl-rimmed eyes flicking to me and moving to Katia.
Then she motions to us, and we follow her in, and my eyes water from the thin plume of smoke and the stench of hard liquor.
The dimly lit hallway spills out onto the main floor, and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust.
My eyes dart all around, taking in the circular booths with well-dressed men and women in skimpy clothing who are draped all over the men. Now and again, one of these men is led past, and I don’t miss the hungry glint in their eyes. Katia’s glare helps them steer clear of us.