Chapter 2
Chelsea
Mason Blaise has muscles that go on forever. Muscles I want to put my hands all over.
That’s the only thought in my mind as I watch him bang on the door. Well, that, and wondering what he would taste like if I kissed him while getting said hands on those muscles.
After a few minutes of him trying like hell to get someone’s attention, I curl my fingers around his bicep to stop him.
Touching Mason like this is the stuff of my dreams. The moment our skin connects, desire blazes through my veins.
I want this man like I’ve never wanted any other man.
This time together and this brief touch will never be enough for me.
“Give me your phone,” I say once I have his attention.
“Why?”
“Well, I would use mine if I had it on me, but since I don’t, I need yours.
I’ll call my dad’s security guy and get him to organise someone to let us out.
” This needs to be done discreetly and my dad’s guy is the only one I trust. God knows what the news headline would be if the Premier’s daughter was found locked in a room with a member of the Storm MC.
He hands his phone over and my stomach sinks when I see his battery is dead. Handing it back, I say, “It’s flat.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fucking iPhone batteries.”
He goes back to banging on the door and yelling out to get someone’s attention.
The problem is that I dragged us into a room that’s in a hallway that leads nowhere unless you’re going to a conference room.
And since it’s a Friday night no one’s attending a conference, so no one will be in this hallway.
We’ll be lucky if we’re discovered before morning.
The fact that doesn’t bother me is no surprise.
Mason’s the boy I’ve loved since forever.
Our families run in the same social circle, and we grew up together.
I remember our first day of year one. I was scared and Mason sat with me and made sure I was okay.
He looked out for me from that day on, keeping bullies like Samuel Hash away.
In grade seven, when Samuel made fun of my chest still being flat, Mason got in a fight with him to shut him up.
In grade ten, when Samuel spread lies about me sucking his dick on school camp (because I’d rejected him and he wanted to humiliate me like I’d apparently humiliated him), Mason once again got in a fight with him.
And then when I was sixteen and he discovered my father hit me sometimes, he took on the role of my protector in a whole new way.
I’d planned to tell him I loved him when I was seventeen, but that plan went out the window the night Mason and I were at a party that got busted by the cops for drugs.
Neither of us were found with drugs, but the publicity wasn’t great for my father at a time when he was getting everything in line to one day run for Premier.
He’d already forbidden me from being friends with Mason a few months earlier when Mason got into some trouble over smoking pot.
I’d found ways to maintain the friendship, but when Dad threatened to ruin Mason after that party, I knew he meant it, so I’d done the only thing I thought I could do: I cut all ties to the boy I loved and pretended I didn’t want him in my life anymore.
I’ll never forget the hurt in Mason’s eyes every time we passed each other at school after that.
Most people would have only seen hate, but I knew it was hurt that sat deeper and more keenly.
Mason continues pounding on the door, trying to get us out of here, while I acknowledge the fact we’re likely trapped for the night.
God knows the rage this will incite in my father.
He had a list of people he wanted me to talk with at his fundraiser tonight, not to mention the united family front he wanted to show the world.
That bullshit is the reason I wore this red dress.
It was an act of rebellion after years of trying to keep up the charade he insists on.
My father is a lying, cheating asshole who cares only for himself.
My mother puts up with his mistresses for reasons I can’t fathom.
And then there’s the dirty politics he thrives on.
I’ve always gone along with keeping up appearances out of a sense of duty, but I’ve reached the point where I no longer care so much about that.
I want a life I choose, not one that’s chosen for me, and my father is struggling with allowing that.
I position myself on one of the tables, slip off my heels, and sit cross legged while watching Mason. Finally, I say, “I don’t think it’s going to help.”
He stops what he’s doing and turns to me. “Have you got a better idea?”
I shrug. “We wait it out.”
One of the things I used to love about Mason was his fighting spirit.
His inability to give up on things. Mason would push and push and push, and then, when most people would give up on whatever they were trying to achieve, he’d push some more.
By the look on his face, he’s still as determined and stubborn as he always was.
“You’re kidding, right? Neither of us have the time to be locked in here all night. ”
I lean back, resting my palms on the table. “The only thing I’m missing is my father’s fundraiser. I’m down with that. Are you supposed to be somewhere tonight?” I want him to say he has nowhere he’d rather be, however, I know there’s no way he’ll say that.
Mason rests against the door, placing the back of his head to it and staring up at the ceiling for a long few moments.
My eyes are drawn to his throat and then up to his chiselled jaw and the beard covering it.
I’d give anything right now to kiss that jaw and to trail my lips slowly up to his mouth.
I may have cut Mason from my life years ago, but I never once stopped thinking of him or keeping track of him.
Not in a stalkery way, but rather in the kind of way where every now and then I search him on social media and check out what he’s up to.
I also check out those muscles of his and the ink he’s covered his body with.
The number of hours I’ve dedicated to that ink is ridiculous.
It’s like I’m looking for something, anything, that will tell me he hasn’t forgotten me, just like I haven’t forgotten him.
Being friends with his sister Alexa also helps.
Mason may not be close with his parents these days, but he’s still super close with his siblings.
Alexa randomly drops stories about her brothers, and I hang off every word she says about Mason.
When he gives me his eyes again, I see torment in them. “I don’t have anywhere to be tonight, but let’s just say that being locked in here with you isn’t a safe option.”
I cock my head. “What do you mean?”
He stares at me in silence, not answering my question straight away. In fact, he takes so long to answer that I begin to think he’s not going to. But then he says, “Do you remember when Samuel Hash told everyone you sucked him off at school camp?”
Not where I thought this conversation would go, but I’m intrigued enough to stay with it. “Yes. Why?”
His eyes flash with an intensity that hits me low in my belly.
“At first, I was jealous. I wanted to be the one you gave yourself to. When you told me it was a lie, I was so fucking relieved. And when I saw how much he hurt you, I’d have done whatever it took to shut him the hell up and to make him hurt just as much.
” He pauses. “You were always my kryptonite, Chelsea, and we both know where that got me. Being forced into this kind of proximity with you is fucking dangerous.”
My breathing slows.
Or races.
Maybe it races.
I can’t be sure.
The only thing I can be sure of is that Mason’s confession has tangled the hell out of my thoughts and that’s not something that ever happens to me.
I’ve spent years perfecting my ability to manage my thoughts and my actions.
I’m the girl that can be counted on to be rational, to be prudent, to always do the right thing.
Sure, lately I’ve rebelled in small ways against my father, but I’ve simply been trying to catch his attention so that he’ll alter his expectations of me.
I haven’t changed who I am at my core. I’m still deliberate in my actions after careful thought about them.
I don’t get tangled.
I’m not careless or reckless.
And I sure as hell don’t lose the ability to process my thoughts.
Yet, that’s exactly what’s happening right now.
I’m staring at Mason while having trouble breathing, trying to latch onto the thoughts running wild in my mind. And I’m not fucking succeeding.
In the end, I throw out the dumbest question, but it’s all I can come up with. “Why didn’t you tell me all that back then?”
“We were kids back then. I was a dumb teenager and couldn’t get my shit together when it came to anything, let alone being honest with the girl I wanted to make mine. Plus, you were my best friend. I didn’t want to ruin that.”
“And now?” I hold my breath, waiting for his reply, hoping he’ll say the words my heart has dreamed of forever.
He knows exactly what I’m asking. That awareness is written all over his face, and the intensity that was in his eyes before returns as he says, “And now I know better. But I also know myself well enough to know that even though you’re all kinds of wrong for me, because no one’s ever fucked me up like you did, I could never resist you. ”
I deserve the crushing hurt I feel over what he’s said about knowing better.
It’s only a taste of what he must have felt when I walked away from him.
This reminds me I need to remember that hoping for something to happen with him isn’t a good idea.
Not when my father would destroy Mason once and for all if anything happened between the two of us.