Chapter Eleven
Chloe
I’m silent as I walk down the path to Mason, waiting at the passenger door of his SUV. I look back at my house and there’s no sign of Paul. He isn’t even curious enough to look out the window to see where I’m going or who I’m going with. My heart breaks a little more. I came unglued at a woman being in my house last night. But I truly think that was more about her being in my home, and me having no control over it.
Unlike my loss of control, Paul isn’t even a little curious about who’s picking me up. I should feel a lot more emotion about this. I’m starting to grow more and more numb to it all. This might be the scariest emotion I’ve felt yet.
“Did you sleep well?” Mason asks.
“Yes,” I say, forcing a smile. There’s no way I’m telling this man, of all men, about my woes with my boyfriend. That might make him think he has a shot with me. I assure myself he doesn’t.
I step into the SUV, and he sidles around the front and joins me. The luxurious space is much smaller once he’s inside. I put on my seatbelt and force myself to breathe, knowing I can’t hold my breath the entire time we’re together. This is such a bad idea.
He pulls away from the curb, and soon we’re on the road. He makes a few turns, and then I notice he’s heading away from the city. I turn and glance at him.
“Where are we going?” I ask, confused.
“I have to pick something up,” he tells me.
“Where? We’re leaving the city,” I point out.
“On the coast,” he replies.
I instantly tense. “That’s more than an hour away.”
“I know. It’s early, and we have all day,” he assures me.
This certainly isn’t in my job description, but I’m so flustered, I don’t know what to say or do. I pause for a moment and try to compose my thoughts. I need to be smart about this. I don’t want to lose my job. The guilt consuming me is almost too much to bear, though. I realize I want to be with this man, I want to be out of my house. I can’t stand the coldness between Paul and me.
The anger I felt at him being with another woman in my house just nine hours before eats at me. Here I am with Mason, feeling a hell of a lot of emotion, when I’d been yelling at Paul for being with his work associate. What is wrong with me?
“This is work related, right?” I question. I need for him to assure me it is.
“I am the boss, aren’t I?” I don’t know how to reply to this. Maybe I should just sit back and take this with a grain of salt. I don’t really know this man, don’t know what he normally does with employees. He’s already told me he wants to have an affair. He seems to have accepted that I don’t want one. Does that mean he’s given up? Do I truly want him to give up? All I know for sure is I’m an absolute mess.
“What do you have to pick up?” I ask.
“Something I left at my mom’s place.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “We’re going to your mother’s place?”
“You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
“Yes,” I tell him.
“Why?”
I gaze at the side of his face. “What are we really doing here, Mr. Alexander?” I ask in a firm voice. I think this moment calls for complete transparency.
“We’re spending the day together, Chloe. Yes, we’re going to get supplies, but we both feel this attraction between us. Maybe it’s a fluke, maybe it isn’t. We won’t know if we don’t spend time together.” I think on these words for several moments. If he’s going to be honest, then so will I.
“I’m not having an affair with you.”
He chuckles. “You’ve been very clear about that, but your gaze burns into me when you don’t think I’m looking, and the attraction between us is hot enough to set this vehicle on fire. You might not like feeling it, but you certainly do. If it’s something that will pass, then isn’t it better for us to spend a day together and get bored?”
My heart thunders with the truth of his words. He isn’t wrong... dammit. I take a moment before answering, then decide I might as well be as honest as he’s being.
“You have a point. Sometimes, the most alluring things are those that we can’t have.”
He briefly turns my way and gives me a big smile that seems far too much like the cat eating the canary for my liking. “Exactly.”
I question his flippant attitude, but he might have a point. I feel rejected by Paul right now, so I love the attention I’m getting from Mason, even if I don’t want to love it. I assure myself it means nothing. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure any man who found me attractive right now would give me these same feelings. I feel better already. This attraction will soon pass.
We continue driving, sharing small talk that means nothing. I wait for the tension to ease in my body, but it doesn’t happen. The longer I’m in this man’s presence, the more attractive he seems to grow.
I know exactly what type of man Mason is. He’s the “love ’em and leave ’em” man. He’s so used to getting anyone he wants that the challenge of someone not accepting his offer right away put him on the hunt. The question is more about me. What kind of woman am I? What kind of woman do I want to be? Do I want him to chase me? More importantly, do I want him to catch me? I’m terrified to think about the answer to this question.
“Why are you with Paul?” he asks as we near the coast.
I’m only shocked for a moment that he knows Paul’s name. A man this powerful most likely knows everything about me, including the grades I got in elementary school. I’m sure he’s done a full background check on me, one the CIA would be proud of. I let out a sigh. I’m vulnerable right now and need to be careful of what I say. I have to remember what he’s after, and more importantly, remember my values, who I’ve always been, and who I want to continue to be.
“I love him,” I say. I even manage not to cringe as I utter these words I’ve been saying for ten years. Do I still love Paul? There was a time I did. Mason turns and stares at me long enough to make me squirm. “Watch the road!”
He turns back without missing a beat, his driving flawless. “I don’t think you do love him,” he counters. This irritates me.
“You don’t know me,” I huff. I hate feeling like a petulant child. What is this man reducing me to?
“I know you more than you could possibly imagine.”
“A background check and a couple of interactions doesn’t make you know me. I’ve been with Paul for ten years. He knows me.”
Mason’s silent for a few moments. I take the time to steady my breathing. There’s nothing I can do about my accelerated heartbeat. This man makes me feel more emotion in less than two hours than Paul has made me feel in years. It’s insane.
“It doesn’t take much time to know someone, Chloe. I can see the beat of your pulse in the side of your neck, the way your eyes dilate when you look at me. I can hear the hitch in your breath, and see the flush of your skin. A woman doesn’t react to a man the way you react to me if she’s in love with another. That tells me all I need to know.”
His words are making my skin heat, making my breath hitch, and making my pulse skyrocket. I don’t like it... yet, at the same time, I love it. He’s smooth. I need to remember this. I can’t win a war of words with him. He’s had countless women. I’ve had Paul. There’s no comparison... he knows how to play this game, and I know nothing.
“I’m not going to say you aren’t attractive. I’ll even admit things aren’t perfect with Paul, but I know myself well, and I’d never be able to live with the decision if I chose to have an affair. Sure, you affect me. You know you do, know your magnetism, but I don’t do casual sex. It would be meaningless. Sure, it might feel good for a while, but then it would be over, and I’d have to live with the consequences of my actions. I’m not willing to do that,” I say in a relatively calm voice. I’m quite proud of myself.
He nods as he processes my words. “Leave him,” he calmly says.
I gape at him. “I’m not leaving him for a two-minute affair,” I reply.
“You’ve been having terrible sex if you think it will only last two minutes. I’ll make your body sing in ways you’ve never felt before. I’ll bring you to the heavens, and not let you come back down again until you beg me to do so. It will be incredible. It will happen, Chloe. I’m not normally a patient man, but for you, I’ll wait,” he says as if he’s doing me a favor.
“Don’t wait for me or you’ll be using your hand for quite some time,” I quickly reply.
He throws his head back and laughs. I feel my own lips twitch, but clench my teeth together to keep from smiling. I don’t want him to know I’m enjoying our conversation. It will only encourage his terrible behavior.
“Damn, when we come together, we’re going to set off fireworks,” he says after a bit.
“Keep dreaming.”
“Oh, I have been. Last night in the shower while the hot spray was flowing over me, I pumped my dick while imagining your lips around my cock. I shook with pleasure as I imagined filling your glorious mouth with my come while you knelt before me. I then pictured carrying you to my bed, throwing you down, and spreading your thighs wide while I buried my head between them. As I leaned my head back with my eyes closed, and licked my lips, I could taste you on my tongue. There’s no doubt you’re a mixture of sugar and spice... and I’m hungry. I’m especially looking for something wickedly sweet right now.”
I have to suppress a groan as I clench my thighs together, heat and moisture surging through me. My nipples harden and it takes all I have not to squirm in the seat next to the man who’s saying things to me no one has ever said before. If I closed my eyes right now, I could picture us doing all of this... and so much more.
“I can pull over and make you sing, Chloe. I’ll even promise not to fuck you, to simply give you pleasure while I stroke myself, not coming until I make you explode.”
This time I can’t keep a gasp from escaping as I lean against my window, clicking the down button. I need air, and a big glass of cold water thrown right into my face. I don’t say a word. He did what he set out to do: put visions of us together looping over and over again in my head.
Mason keeps driving, and thankfully doesn’t say another word. I’m not sure I’m capable of getting any words out of my closed throat. We take a turn and I let out a sigh of relief as I see the Pacific Ocean appear before me, the sea nice and calm on this beautiful Saturday morning. I don’t make it back often enough to see my father, and visiting here makes me miss it more than I realized.
“It always calms me to come back to the beach,” Mason says, a bit of awe in his voice. It makes me admire the man. I don’t want to find anything about him to like, but anyone who appreciates the serenity of the ocean like I do gains some bonus points in my book.
It’s been about twenty minutes since we’ve last spoken so I think I can now get words out. I’ll at least try. I take a few deep breaths as I continue facing forward, letting the calmness of the waves wash over me and soothe my hot body. Maybe I’ll get used to feeling this way, used to how this man makes me burn. Besides, it will eventually fade, I assure myself. All I need is time. He’ll get bored with this game soon enough when he understands I won’t have sex with him.
“I grew up on the coast with my dad and we didn’t have much money, but we did have all of this beauty around us. We’d spend hours walking through the dunes and along the beach. Whenever I had a bad day, I’d come to the beach and sit, taking in the sounds, smells, and ambiance. It never failed to soothe me. It still does,” I tell him without thinking. I don’t want to share my deepest feelings, but I can’t seem to help it. This place lowers all of my defenses.
He reaches over and takes my hand before I’m able to stop him. He doesn’t say anything... and I don’t immediately pull away from him. It’s one more thing for me to feel guilty about later. For now, I’m in my happy place.
We make a few turns and then he pulls up to an incredible home with a spectacular view of the ocean. “We’re here,” he says.
I discreetly pull my hand from his as I sit in the vehicle in awe of this palatial home. It’s one of the places I’d see while walking on the beach as a teenager and dream of one day owning. That dream seems ever further away. I don’t fret on it though. I have a good life, and I don’t need to own a dream home to be fulfilled.
Before I can exit the vehicle Mason gets out, walks to my side, and opens the door, holding out his hand. I ignore it as I climb from the SUV. I don’t plan on going inside but I do need to stretch my legs.
“How long will we be here?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he tells me.
“Why don’t you take care of whatever you need to do and I’ll take a walk on the beach?”
He instantly looks offended at this comment. I don’t see how. Entering his mother’s place is awkward. There’s no need for me to go inside.
“We can walk on the beach after,” he says. He doesn’t bother arguing. He’s too used to getting his way. I can understand why as he places his hand at the small of my back and nudges me forward. Unless I want to pitch a major fit, I have no choice but to press forward.
We make it to the entrance of the home with a massive over-sized door. He enters a code, then steps inside. I try not to show my awe at the beautiful, spotless interior with large windows letting the brilliant morning sun brighten the entire space.
I look around at the large picturesque windows, huge exotic plants, and furniture so clean and sophisticated I’m afraid to come near any of it. I’m sure that just one couch in this house is worth more than my entire furniture collection back in Portland. The extent of some people’s wealth truly boggles my mind.
We steadily move forward, and it’s clear that Mason’s fully at home. I try to see this place through his eyes and compare it to the way I grew up in the same town. It’s impossible not to make comparisons.
My dad is no longer living in the crappy trailer I grew up in, thankfully. My grandmother died several years ago, and he received a decent inheritance, which to my father might as well be a million dollars since he loves living frugally. He bought a small cabin in the hills that surround this coastal town. It’s absolutely perfect for him.
He doesn’t have room for guests to stay over, but he’s a simple man. No amount of money will change that for him. I love visiting with him at his cabin, love sitting on his small back deck drinking a cup of coffee and catching up on our lives.
My dad loves picking mushrooms, and has done it for as long as I can remember. Though it doesn’t pay as much as it used to, he doesn’t care. It gives him a little extra pocket cash, and he gets to do what he loves most, walk through the woods and enjoy nature. My father isn’t a man who wants to be locked inside. He’ll choose searching through the woods for hidden treasures every day over living in a luxurious palace.
It isn’t the size of your house, or even what’s inside that matters. What makes a place a home is love, hope, and a multitude of dreams made inside the four walls holding the place together. I’ll take a rundown trailer or a tiny cabin in the woods any day of the week over a mansion that’s empty and cold inside.
“Mason, it seems you’ve brought me a visitor,” a beautiful woman says, beaming at both of us as we step inside a chef’s kitchen any cook would fantasize about owning.
“Does this mean I get extra goodies?” Mason asks, making the woman laugh as she quickly rises from her stool and steps over to engulf him in a hug. It’s clear that the two of them are close. This surprises me. It’s difficult to think of him as a callous monster when he obviously loves his mother.
“Don’t you be rude,” the woman says as she lets go of him and focuses her full attention on me. The woman is absolutely stunning, not looking old enough to be Mason’s mother. There are a few laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, but her flawless skin is glowing, and a twinkle in her eyes tells me she doesn’t take life too seriously. She also seems genuinely kind and interested in who I am.
“I’m Sherry,” she says as she steps a little closer in my bubble than I’m normally comfortable with. I force myself not to fidget.
“I’m Chloe. Mr. Alexander’s my boss, and I’m tagging along with him today for work,” I say in a rush of words. I don’t know why I blurt this, but I need to assure this woman I’m no threat, that her son isn’t slumming it with me. She can clearly tell from my clothes that I’m not in the upper crust of the elite society.
Her smile grows even bigger as she turns back to her son. “It’s so funny to hear you referred to as Mr. Alexander. I hear that and, to this day, still look for your father.”
I don’t look at Mason. I’m not sure what he’ll think of my little speech. He’d have told his mother the same, but he doesn’t seem the type of guy who wants a woman stepping in and saying anything on his behalf.
“It took me a while too, but I’ve been Mr. Alexander for long enough now that I’m used to it... though I don’t always appreciate it when it’s used in the wrong setting,” Mason pointedly says. I don’t look at him. I know he’s scolding me, which is more than rude in my opinion, since he’s the one who’s dragged me into this home where I’m clearly uncomfortable. I want to demand to know when we’re leaving. I never should’ve agreed to this trip.
His mother seems to feel the tension rising so she gives both of us another brilliant smile. “I made your favorite breakfast pastry,” she says as she moves to the oven and opens the door. It’s turned off, but clearly still warm. I don’t want to admit it smells delicious, and my mouth immediately begins to water.
“There’s not a better cook in all of Oregon, Mother,” he says with a smile as he leads me to the breakfast bar and waits for me to sit before he takes the seat next to me. “That’s saying something since there are some world-class chefs in Portland.”
She laughs as she begins to plate the gooey-looking dessert, then passes it over to us. “We both know I only put it in the oven this morning,” she says. “Mary clearly put it together for us.”
“You weren’t supposed to give that away,” Mason says with another laugh. I haven’t known him long, but this is a different person from the one I saw a few times at the office. That man is hard. This one is sweet and, even more shocking, relaxed.
“We don’t want Chloe to have expectations and then have her find out my definition of a homecooked meal is thawing something that’s already been prepared. I’m very good at that,” she says.
I want to tell her that it doesn’t matter what I think because this is a one-and-done visit. It worries me that she might think there’s more between Mason and me than there is. He’s simply my boss. That’s all. If I say this enough times, I’m going to believe it. Brainwashing is a true and powerful thing.
Sherry moves to a fancy looking espresso machine, hits a button, and begins making shots of coffee. She turns to look at me. “What do you like in your coffee, Chloe?” She pulls out three mugs and begins putting the shots into the cups. She then starts frothing milk, and I’m not sure what to say.
“Anything is fine,” I tell her.
She gives a laugh. “Oh, we all know that isn’t true. We all have a preference for our perfect cup of coffee. My favorite is a peppermint mocha. I have one every day,” she says as she pulls down some syrup and begins adding it to one of the cups. “Mason’s boring. He likes dark roast with only a splash of cream. I can’t get him to try any flavor. He says that takes away from the high-quality espresso beans he researched and has shipped here. I disagree.”
“If it’s no trouble, I wouldn’t mind trying your peppermint mocha,” I say, feeling almost giddy at the prospect. I didn’t know home espresso machines existed. I don’t do much online browsing. It’s no fun to window shop when you can’t afford to buy too much. I don’t mind this most of the time, but in this moment I’m a little green with envy over the idea of making a fresh coffee-house-style morning cup of Joe.
“The problem with drinking this coffee is you’re going to become addicted and need one every single morning,” she says. She then winks at me. “I do have some influence with your boss. I might negotiate a couple of these machines in the offices. It would be good for morale.”
Mason laughs. “That can be arranged.”
She hands over the coffee and I take a sip; it’s utter perfection, just as she promised. “I wouldn’t argue with that,” I say before focusing back on the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.
The conversation is light as we eat our pastry and have another cup of coffee. An hour easily passes, and I’ve forgotten I don’t want to be here. I like Mason’s mom a lot. She’s a good person. I shouldn’t like her, and this game is growing more dangerous by the second, but I can’t control how I feel about someone.
When it’s time to leave, Sherry gives us both a hug as we exit, and I have to tell myself it’s simply a kind gesture. I’m never going to see this woman again. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people who goes all in when I like someone. But I can’t get any further involved with Mason than I already am... and this means not liking his mother.
After we leave, we go to some shops and get the work done that’s the excuse for this little adventure, but I still don’t feel better about this day. I’ve enjoyed it way too much. I’ve enjoyed the drive, enjoyed spending time with Mason’s mother, and enjoyed walking around town with my boss.
This isn’t good; it’s not good at all.
By the time he brings me back home, the sun is leaving the sky. I’m wretched and feeling unfaithful. I might not be cheating, but I’m more than a little attracted to another man while coming home to my boyfriend of ten years. I still don’t have the answer to what I’ll do. I know what I need to do, what I should do, but I can’t get myself to do it. Why? Because maybe I don’t want this to stop, maybe I’m broken. Maybe, just maybe, I’m telling myself this so I can do what I want to do instead of what I should do. Who knows?