Chapter Fourteen
London
“I’m almost done.” I skirt around a man and a woman with their hands all over each other and narrowly avoid getting trampled by a group who race past with a slew of toys.
With a sigh, I duck into another room, rag tossed over my shoulders, and glance around.
The sheets are rumpled, and there’s the smell of sweat and something else I can’t identify, but the room is mostly clean.
Still, I venture in and go to the nearest table.
After clearing everything into the trash can, I reach for the rag and wipe it down. Then, I duck into the bathroom and flick on the light. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust, and as soon as they do, I exhale and square my shoulders.
It’s only been a few days, and I’m already tired of the job.
While the cleaning is fine, and the rhythmic motion of wiping down tables and mopping floors is oddly soothing, I could do without the constant eyes on me everywhere I go.
Undressing me. Sizing me up.
A few men have even approached me, but one look at the bracelet on my wrist sends them packing.
At least for now.
I’m not sure how much clout and fear Mason has over them, but I am grateful for the jewelry on my wrist. I have no intention of giving in to Mason or anyone else, and knowing that it keeps them at bay is comforting.
It’s been one of the few things keeping me sane over the past few days while the rest of my world descends further into chaos.
Since the first day, I’ve tried to avoid watching any of the activities, afraid of my reaction to the women who are being exploited.
But at night, when my guard comes down and I’m lying alone in my small bed, listening to the wind outside my window, I relive the scenes and the ecstasy on the women’s faces. Each day I spend away from Noah, further cementing our dynamic, the harder it is.
The ache in my heart is almost enough for me to forget about how Mason made me feel in the library.
While I haven’t had much of a chance to see him, each time I do is a shock to my system.
I can’t understand my visceral reaction to him or the deep and primal pull he has on me, nor do I want to.
I don’t have the luxury.
As thankful as I am that he gave me a chance to work off my father’s debt, and for the bracelet that allows me to focus on my job, I’m aware of the ticking clock over my head.
Each day, I go to work with my heart in my throat, glancing over my shoulder for him.
At night, when I walk to the worker’s residence, I think I see him lingering in the shadows, watching and waiting for me.
How much patience does he have?
I have no idea, and I’m afraid of his reaction when he reaches his threshold.
Or maybe you’re more worried about yourself and what will happen if you stay here long enough. You know something inside of you likes watching women being fucked, and you want to know what it feels like.
Realizing the allure of the darkness is one thing.
Giving into it is another.
I’ve already betrayed Noah once, and I have no intention of doing it again.
Poor Noah, who patiently waits for me to call him every night and stays on the phone with me until he falls asleep.
He doesn’t know that I stay awake listening to the sound of his even breathing and wishing things were different.
In the harsh light of day, I even imagine myself walking out of the House of Payne without a backward glance.
But each time I pluck up the courage, I replay the scene in my head of my father sprawled on his back in the diner, a stunned expression on his face while blood drips from his mouth. When I sit by my window at night and look out at the moonlit world, my father’s face keeps me from running.
He’s the reason I push through despite all the things I hear.
With a shake of my head, I finish mopping the bathroom and head back into the main room.
After a glance around, I strip the sheets and flick on the ceiling fan.
A gust of cold air moves around, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Once I’m done tidying the bed, I straighten the rest of the room and nod.
Sighing, I place both hands on my hips and scan the room again.
“You can always do the light cleaning and leave the more menial tasks to someone else.”
I force myself not to react as I stand there, his voice washing over me. “You hired me to do housekeeping. I intend to keep up my end of the bargain.”
“There are easier and far more pleasurable ways to enjoy yourself, London. I don’t know why you keep denying yourself.”
I spin to face Mason and ignore the twinge in my chest at the look on his face. “I’m not denying myself anything.”
Mason arches a brow at me. “Yes, you are. I saw the look on your face in the library. You had that same look the day you started working here.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mason covers the distance between us, and his smile sends a jolt straight to my stomach. “Don’t I? You keep forgetting I was in the library.”
I swat a lock of hair from my face and stand up straighter. “And you keep forgetting why I’m here. I’m here to work off my father’s debt, not to indulge in whatever twisted fantasy of me you have.”
No matter how appealing it seems.
I know it’s a bad idea to get involved with Mason.
Every bone in my body screams at me not to, but denying the pull I feel toward him is exhausting.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to press my lips to his.
I want to kick myself for wondering what he tastes like, and for imagining what he feels like.
Stop it, London. You’re here to do a job, remember? Don’t let him suck you in.
Mason smiles again. “There’s no reason you can’t do both. I’m sure you’ve already heard that other arrangements can be made to shorten your… stay.”
I scoff. “And what makes you think I’d agree to any of it?”
The idea doesn’t make my skin crawl like it should, but I tell myself it doesn’t matter.
“I’m still with Noah,” I tell Mason a little too quickly. “I’m not going to hurt him like that, and even if I wasn’t with him, it wouldn’t matter.”
Mason takes another step forward, and I take an involuntary step back, so my back is pressed against the nearest wall. “I’m not worried about that little boy you have at home. He’ll grow tired of waiting soon enough.”
I bristle as I throw my head back to look at him. “He’s not a boy, and he won’t get tired.”
He wouldn’t, not after everything we’ve been through.
Noah had been willing to work himself to the bone to help my father.
I refuse to believe Mason knows anything about him. He’s just trying to get under my skin.
Still, a small voice in the back of my mind rears its ugly head.
What if Mason is right?
Do I want Noah to still be there when I leave the House of Payne behind for good?
Wouldn’t it be easier for both of us if he moved on?
You already know the answer to that. Noah deserves better. You just aren’t brave enough to let him go.
I love Noah, and I need to hold onto him.
I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t.
Without Noah between us, would Mason have more of an impact on me?
He’s just trying to make you doubt yourself. Don’t let him.
Coming to my defense whenever any of the other men can’t take a hint and insisting I take frequent breaks while cleaning doesn’t change anything.
For all I know, Mason is trying to make himself appear human to get me to lower my guard.
It’s working, isn’t it? You have caught yourself wondering.
I hate myself even more for it.
Even now, when I’m boxed between him, the wall, and the smell of his cologne, something musky and deep washes over me as I search for the man behind the mask.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m still looking for the man from the diner that day, the one with the gentle touch who helped tend to my wound.
He had no idea who I was that day.
I’ve gone over that incident so many times in my head, kicking myself for not being able to see through him sooner.
Or is the Mason standing before me the real man?
He lifts a hand to my face and casually tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “You and I both know that isn’t true, London. Let’s say I believe you—which I don’t. Working here is going to affect you, whether you like it or not—”
“It won’t,” I interrupt with a little more force than necessary.
Mason levels me with a heated look. “Did I say I was done talking? I’ll enjoy teaching you some manners.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “No, you won’t.”
Mason lowers his head so his mouth is inches from my ear, and I shiver. “Even if your little boy doesn’t get tired of waiting, you will. You’re already wondering how you’re supposed to go back to him after all this. Why don’t you just spare yourself the heartache and skip to the good part?”
I dig my nails into my palms and stiffen.
Slowly, I release a deep breath and ignore the swarm of butterflies in my stomach. “You’re not used to hearing no, are you?”
Mason chuckles. “I’m not. Are you?”
“No.”
“That’s why this will be fun.”
He steps back abruptly, and a blast of cold air wafts between us.
Goosebumps break out across my flesh as Mason increases the space between us, his eyes never leaving my face. Then, he turns and leaves the room without a word. I stand there for a long time, hunched against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe.
What is the matter with me?
He’s a fucking mobster.
Getting involved with a man like that won’t end well, no matter the primal attraction between us.
I have no intention of ending up like one of the women in this establishment. I feel bad that some of them were coerced into this life, but it doesn’t mean I have to be one of them.
If the rumors are true, I need to put as much space as possible between myself and this establishment as soon as I can. Being here goes against every survival instinct, and each day I hear a dark truth about the place makes it harder to stay.
Knowing what I was getting into wouldn’t have changed anything.
Not unless a miracle could’ve gotten my dad out of this mess.
Nothing has changed in the weeks since my arrival, and the less I pay attention to the gossip about the place, the better.
You’re going to leave, anyway. You made a deal, and unless you can find a way to come up with that money, you don’t have a choice. Just stop overthinking it, and get the job done.
As I finish a final cursory inspection of the room, I tell myself it’s for the best.
Especially when I step back into the hallway and see a woman being fondled by two men. Her dress is up around her waist. One of them has his head between her legs, the other one has his lips on her neck, and a look of ecstasy is etched onto her features.
Her moans of pleasure follow me as I skirt past them and spill out into the main part of the room.
Miss Deveroux is standing behind the bar in her usual pressed shirt and skirt, talking to a man with tousled brown hair, bulging arms, and a tattoo on his neck.
She glances up, and a look passes between us before I look away.
A heavy feeling settles in my stomach as I lower my head and review the mental list of things I have to do.
My feet are killing me by the time things ramp up for the night, and the headache in the back of my head has spread to the rest of my body.
I change into a pair of jeans and a sweater in the locker room, avoiding looking at myself in the full-length mirror.
Then, I let my hair fall around my face and use it as a curtain as I step back out into the pulsing music that surrounds me.
Mason is thankfully nowhere to be found, and I sprint to the housing complex with only my thoughts for company.
In the comfort of my room, I perch on the bed and press two fingers to my temples.
When the silence feels like too much, I strip out of my clothes and step into the bathroom.
While I wait for the shower to warm, I lean against the wall and dial Noah’s number.
It rings a few times before going to voicemail.
After leaving him a message, I hang up and dial my dad.
He sounds distracted and breathless, and I end the call after two minutes.
Part of me appreciates that their lives are going on without me, but another part wishes they’d realize something is wrong.
You kept the truth from them to spare them. You know it was for the best. What good would it do to have them worried about you all the time?
In the shower, I scrub every inch of my skin until it’s red and raw.
As soon as I draw back the curtain, I blink at my reflection in the mirror and pause.
Then, I touch two fingers to the glass and see Mason looking back at me.
I run a hand over my side and down to my thighs and pause.
With a shake of my head, I stop and turn away from the mirror.
After I finish drying off, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and wrap a towel around my hair.
There’s a knock outside my door a few seconds later.
I cross over, fling it open, and peer outside.
Then I see the wrapped package at my feet and pause.
My fingers are trembling as I take it inside and set it on the dresser.
I’m not sure I want to know what’s inside, but after minutes of wrestling with myself, I slide off the ribbon and hold my breath.
Inside is a fuzzy, plush maroon robe and a few skincare products that smell like vanilla and honey.
Frowning, I reach for the note inside.
This is just a taste of what I can offer you. Use them well.
–M
With a scowl, I drop the note as if I’ve been burned.
Then I shove the package away and jump to my feet, my heart hammering steadily.
I take a few deep breaths, sit down on the bed, and examine the products closely.
Slowly, I carry the package to a corner of the room and leave it there, where it taunts me.
When I crawl into bed a short while later, I draw the covers up to my chin and stare at the ceiling.
It doesn’t have the answers I want.
Nothing does. No one does.
Why would they?
Giving me gifts doesn’t mean Mason cares. It’s just another way for him to own me, and I know I can’t accept it. I won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s slithering his way in.
Mason Payne is many things, but thoughtful and considerate isn’t one of them, and the sooner I accept that, the better it’ll be.
What you’re feeling for him isn’t attraction; it’s lust. That’s it. Don’t lie to yourself and think it’s something it isn’t. It’ll just cause more problems.