Chapter 21 – Leslie
In the end, it took the entire weekend to successfully escape. Mason had kept me cooped up in his apartment, distracting me with cuddling and orgasms until I barely knew which way was up. And if I were honest, I didn’t want to leave. I’d never felt so cared for, so tended to, so…safe. It was unbelievable that I got that from my stepbrother and bully, the same man who’d once terrorized me.
But the truth was right there. I saw it every time he brought me my favorite coffee (not drugged this time), made sure I came first, fed me my favorite foods, dropped kisses on my neck and forehead, held me in our sleep. I was becoming addicted to it, which terrified me. I hadn’t changed my mind on where I stood. We couldn’t be together. It would destroy our reputations—and our parents.
Also, I desperately needed a change of clothes. I’d been wearing his sweats every day because my one outfit was dirty, and I was sick of swimming in the fabric—even if I loved the comfort of having his smell surround me. Laundry was as good an excuse as any.
“You can do your laundry here,” Mason argued. I was standing by the front door to the apartment, and he was leaning on the door, facing me and blocking my exit. I tried to ignore just how sexy he was, arms crossed over his chest, a slight smirk on his face, as he propped up the door.
“My clothes are at my dorm,” I said. “What am I supposed to do, go get my clothes and bring them back here? That makes no sense.”
“It makes complete sense. I’ll come with you.”
“Mason.” Frustration filled me. I needed space so I could process everything that had happened between us. And he wasn’t going to give it to me.
“I need to go practice at the studio, too,” I pointed out.
“I’ll come with you.” He wasn’t backing down. “I want to watch you dance, butterfly. I’ve never seen you dance.”
His words melted me. “How about I go home, do laundry, do some work, and you meet me at the studio later?”
“Bro,” Matt said from the living room. “You can’t. We’re supposed to meet the team at the gym in twenty.”
Relief and disappointment battled it out in my heart. I loved the idea of him being with me, but I needed some time on my own. Mason having gym time with the team was perfect.
Mason groaned. “Fuck. Butterfly, come to the gym with us.”
Oh, lord.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you out of my sight for a second,” he said. “Besides, you can be my counterweight.”
As appealing as the image was of him doing push-ups with me on his back, I needed to stick to my plan. Space. Thinking. Clean clothes. Dance.
“And I don’t want to show up at the gym wearing your sweats that barely fit me, or my dirty clothes. It screams walk of shame.”
He pushed off from the door and took two steps toward me, until he towered over me and I had to crane my neck back to look up at him. “No shame. Remember?”
“I remember,” I said gently, even if my body didn’t believe it.
He shook his head. “I’ll come get you tonight.”
I started to protest, but he lifted a hand to my cheek, cradling my face as he swallowed my mouth in a dizzying kiss. I moaned, surrendering to him, until Matt disappeared. So did my shame about the forbidden nature of our relationship. How could I hold onto fear of the future when Mason’s heat, taste, touch kept me in the present, making me feel owned and cared for, all at once?
Finally, he released me. “I’ll drop you off at your dorm.”
I shook my head, needing at least a little independence. “I can walk.”
He shook his head. “Butterfly, I don’t think you understand yet. You’re mine. That means when I say I’ll drive you, I’m driving you. It’s my job to keep you safe and comfortable.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Matt called in warning.
“C’mon, Butterfly. Do you want me to be late?”
I relented. “Fine, you can drive me.”
A grin spread across Mason’s face. “Good girl.”
When Mason dropped me off,he dragged me into another dizzying kiss before setting me free. Lost in the memory of his lips on mine and already missing him, I almost didn’t see Chris skulking past me in the hallway.
“Oh!” I said, surprised.
He shot backwards, like I’d burned him.
“I’m sorry,” I started, then looked more closely at him, freezing in shock.
He was a mess. Two black eyes, his nose out of joint like it had been broken, a split lip. His left arm was in a sling.
“You,” he spat. “You need to stay away from me.”
“What happened?” I didn’t like the guy—he was a complete creep, after all. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t concerned.
“Your jackass stepbrother is what happened,” he said. “He didn’t like that we were getting close, and he let me know with his fists.”
“What?” I could barely get the word out, my heart was hammering so hard. “He couldn’t have, I’ve been with him all weekend.”
“It didn’t happen this weekend. It happened on Thursday. He was waiting for me in my room when I got back from partying. Beat the shit out of me, told me to stay away from you. Which I’ve been trying to do. You need to get away from me. I don’t want that psycho coming after me again.”
I didn’t understand. Refused to understand. I knew by now that Mason was jealous and possessive, and he hadn’t liked that Chris had flirted with me, but there was no way he could have known that Chris had drunkenly come onto me in my room the other night.
And he’d promised me he wouldn’t hurt anyone for me. That would have been the time to tell me, oh, by the way, I beat up your RA.
Which meant he’d lied to me.
He’d lied.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “He would’ve told me.”
Chris raised a split eyebrow, then rubbed at it like it hurt him. “You sure about that? Because my face says differently. He didn’t like that we almost hooked up the other night.”
“We didn’t almost hook up the other night,” I said automatically, my brain spinning as I tried to figure out how Mason could have known about that.
Chris shook his head. “You fucking tease. Get away from me before you get me killed.”
With that, he left me in the hallway, staring after him.
Back in my room, I paced trying to figure out how Mason could have possibly known that Chris had harassed me in my room. Had someone overheard and told him? Had he been lurking outside? But if he had, why hadn’t he stormed in here and come to my rescue?
And he’d lied to me. By omission, sure, but it was a lie just the same.
My father had lied to us, too.
A realization stopped me in my tracks. I immediately started scanning the small room for something unfamiliar, something out of place.
There.
I hadn’t noticed it before, I was so distracted by how bad I’d needed to come, but the picture frame holding a photo of me, Bea, and my mom was out of place.
And in the corner was a small black dot.
With shaking hands, I lifted the frame and picked at the plastic and glass circle until it came free.
A camera.
And if there was one, that meant there were probably more.
Frantic and filled with an almost manic rage, I tore my room apart, searching books, other frames, my laptop, the wall, the bookshelf I’d built, the art on the walls. I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but by the time I was done I was sweating and I’d found five other cameras.
Oh my god, he’d been watching me.
He’d been watching me.
For all I knew, he was watching me right now.
Maybe I could’ve forgiven the violence. I hated it, but I understood Mason well enough now. He’d been protecting me, and as horrible as it made me, it also made me feel safe. Besides, he’d done it before I’d shared my ultimatum with him.
But he’d lied. He could have told me what he’d done. That he’d beat up Chris, and that he’d placed cameras in my room. Even though, if I were honest, it was completely in line with who he was. Why wouldn’t the man who’d drugged me so he could have sex with me set up cameras in my room so he could watch me without my knowledge or consent? He’d manipulated me, tortured me. How was lying to me any different? It all pointed to the same thing: he wanted me, but he didn’t respect me. I was nothing more than a possession to him.
I couldn’t trust him. Not now, not ever.
My phone began buzzing. Mason.
I must have missed a camera.
I picked up my phone to answer, then threw it on the bed. He’d have some excuse, some way to manipulate me back into his arms. No, I needed to be strong. I couldn’t be with someone who bulldozed my desires for his own needs.
It kept buzzing, then finally fell silent.
It was almost a relief, having a reason to end things with him. This served as well as anything.
It’s an excuse because you’re scared.
Maybe. But I was clinging to it. He was, as Chris had said, psycho. He had no respect for my boundaries. If he’d gone this far to have me, how much further would he go? What else would he lie about? Would he one day grow bored of me, and turn to another woman? What if he already had? What if there was something going on with Emily, and I was the side piece, just like my mother had been?
I was spiraling. I knew it. But his actions had triggered my greatest fears, and I couldn’t win against them. It was a good thing. If they were right, I’d get hurt. By my stepbrother, of all people. This was still fucking wrong.
I was done. My heart hurt, and I climbed into bed, hiding under the covers. I was sure there was another camera, and I didn’t want him to see me. I didn’t want him to know how sad I was, or he’d use it against me.
I was so, so tired.
I’d end things tomorrow.
Of course, that’s when the lock turned in my door and it opened, revealing an irate Mason.