Chapter Eighteen #3
“I’ve heard of that club,” Noah replies. “There is nothing generous or even decent about what she’s doing.”
This is a nightmare. It can’t be happening.
“If you don’t pack your bags and leave right away, don’t bother coming back.”
“I… what are you saying, Dad? That I can’t come home?”
“Not only that, but, if you don’t come back, I will disown you.”
More tears burn my eyes, and it takes everything in me to swallow them back.
I will not beg, no matter how much it hurts.
My heart is breaking into a million pieces.
What are you doing? You can make this right. Go home, and you can all figure it out together. In less than an hour, you can be in your comfortable PJs, with Noah’s arms around you and your dad’s familiar voice in the background.
“Think about this, London,” Noah pleads in a strange voice. “Don’t throw your life away. Whatever this is, we’ll help you through it.”
I clutch the phone with both hands. “Noah, please. I…”
I don’t know what to tell them or how to make any of this better.
All I know is that Noah’s friend has ruined everything, and I can’t even be mad at him for it.
He did me a favor by revealing my secret. I’m relieved, but I also know there’s no turning back now.
Noah’s voice cuts through my heart when he speaks again. “I’m sorry, London, but if you don’t come back then you and I…I can’t be with someone who lies like that.”
Something else in me breaks open at his words.
“You’re both fucking idiots,” Mason says into the phone, his eyes narrowing. “London deserves better.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, but this is none of your concern,” my dad replies, his voice dripping with fury. “Noah and I are her family. We want what’s best for her.”
Mason holds the phone tighter. “I was under the impression that family is meant to be supportive and understanding, especially when people need it most. In any case, neither of you know what’s best for her, so I’d suggest you keep your fucking opinions to yourselves.”
Without waiting for a response, he hangs up and hands me the phone.
I’m too stunned to say anything for a long time.
Of all the scenarios I imagined, Mason coming to my defense wasn’t one of them.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this. With him.
It reminds me of the man at the diner who wanted to help me with my knee.
I tilt my head, left wondering if I’ve just imagined everything. Swallowing, I withdraw my hand and let it fall to my side.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now, but I do know I want Mason to leave.
He’s done enough for the day.
“I’ll send someone to come and get you in an hour,” Mason says before taking a few steps back and reaching for the phone in his pocket. “That should be enough time for you to get yourself together.”
My head snaps up sharply “For what?”
“Dinner,” Mason replies. “In my residence. Dress appropriately.”
I don’t want to have dinner with him.
I don’t want to be anywhere near him.
Why? Don’t you trust yourself now that Noah is no longer in the picture, or is it possible that Mason has been right all along?
My stomach twists, and I ignore it. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t—”
“What makes you think I’m asking? It’s an order, London. I’ll be expecting you in one hour. Don’t be late.”
“And if I don’t show up?”
Mason gives me a pointed look. “The deals of the contract were clear. You know what’ll happen if you don’t honor your end of the bargain.”
I frown.
A heartbeat later, Mason crosses over to the door and leaves, the smell of his earthy cologne lingering, making the butterflies in my stomach erupt into a frenzy.
Carlisle is at my door an hour later. I resist the urge to smooth out my dress and snatch a jacket off the hanger to give my fingers something to do.
Carlisle doesn’t say anything as I hurry behind him and out into the cold night.
He leads me into the mansion and we ascend the stairs leading to a large arch and two marble columns.
Carlisle pauses in front of the door and gives a quick rap.
You’re just here because of the contract. It doesn’t mean anything else.
A woman with dark, braided hair and skin-tight clothes answers the door, and I don’t miss the look that passes between her and Carlisle.
Before I can dwell on it, she motions to me, and I follow her down the marble foyer in a trance. She leads me down a carpeted hallway with paintings and closed doors on either side.
The hallway opens into a living room with a fireplace, a leather couch set, and a dining room table set with candles and fine china.
Mason is at the head of the table in his usual suit, sipping from a glass of amber liquid.
His grip tightens on the glass when he sees me, and a flicker moves over his face.
Suddenly, we’re back in the library, and my throat is very, very dry.
I’m breathless with anticipation when his gaze flicks away.
“You’ll be serving us tonight, Katia,” Mason tells the woman without looking at her. “Tell the chef he can start.”
Katia disappears into the shadows, and I linger on the other side of the table, my stomach doing somersaults.
Being here with him in an intimate setting doesn’t feel wrong.
I hate that it doesn’t make me want to run.
Now that you no longer have Noah between you, what happens next?
I shake my head and select a chair as far from him as possible. Before I can sit, Mason pulls out the chair next to him and gives me a pointed look.
For a moment, I wonder if he will drag me there.
But he stands still and expectant, and I scowl as I stomp over to him and lower myself onto the chair.
This isn’t a battle I want to wage with him after the day I’ve had.
I don’t know what kind of mood Mason is in, but I don’t feel like finding out.
My heart is already so heavy.
Mason polishes off the rest of his drink and takes his place again at the head of the table. “I knew I’d eventually make you see reason.”
I reach for the bottle of wine and pour a generous amount. “You think you’ve won because I’m sitting where you want me to? I’m just trying to save myself the headache.”
I’m in no mood for a sparring match.
Not with Mason or anyone else.
My father’s words replay on a loop in my head, and the more I think about them, the worse I feel.
I don’t blame him or Noah.
What else are they supposed to do?
“No, you’re learning to pick your battles,” Mason replies without missing a beat. “You’re learning what real power is, and how you can’t deny it even if you want to.”
I eye him over the rim of my glass. “This isn’t power.”
Mason raises an eyebrow and calls out something in a strange language. Katia appears in front of him, her head lowered. He snaps his fingers, and she gets on her knees without hesitation and lifts her gaze to his.
“See how she obeys me without question?” Mason reaches for Katia’s braid and yanks hard. “She won’t move unless I tell her to.”
I glance at Katia and back at his face. “She works for you.”
“Working for me has nothing to do with it. Katia recognizes power, and she knows when to bend to it. It gets her what she wants.” He releases her braid and motions to her. She stands up and begins to undress.
My eyes widen as I watch the woman shimmy from her clothes to reveal the slender, tanned body underneath.
Soon, she is standing in her underwear and bra in the middle of the dining room, without an ounce of shame.
My throat is dry as Mason gestures to her again, and she kneels in front of him and begins to undo his belt buckle.
Then, he leans forward, and she stops.
They lock eyes, and a strange look passes between them.
I want to look away, but I can’t.
There’s an electric current in there, and it has nothing to do with the half-naked woman at Mason’s feet.
Something about the way Katia looks at him makes me pause.
I think she’d do what he wanted even if she didn’t work for him, and I don’t know if that surprises or horrifies me.
I do know that seeing her so willing to bend to him stirs something unfamiliar inside of me.
Am I jealous of her?
Katia slowly rises to her feet, and when Mason nods, she looks over at me and smiles. In a few quick strides, she stands in front of me, her bronze skin glistening in the flickering candlelight.
“This is just a small demonstration.” Mason’s voice is like velvet. “I know you can recognize power, London, and it’s not something Noah will ever be able to give you.”
My heart misses a beat. “And you can?”
“Being around power will change you.” Mason continues as if he hasn’t heard me. “Once you taste it, you’ll want more.”
I have the feeling that we’re not talking about the same thing, but I can’t take my eyes off him.
All through dinner, I push food around on my plate and sneak glances at Mason.
When he gestures to the couch after we’re done, I almost stumble there.
My head is heavy, and my feet are light as I tuck them under me and study the flames in the fireplace.
Mason is unusually quiet as he stands by the fireplace, his profile illuminated by the glow.
When he turns to look at me, something in me snaps.
I know he’s the reason I’m in this mess, but he’s also the only one who can make me feel better.
He’s the only one who can take away the hurt and pain of rejection.
Suddenly, his dangerous mob ties don’t matter as I stand and walk over to him. He silently hands me a glass, but I shake my head and gesture to his. He silently hands me the glass, and I take a long sip.
I’m not sure if the liquid courage is for me or for him.
But I know that the burn in my throat eases after the second sip, and there’s a pleasant buzz in my ears.
All the reasons I shouldn’t pursue Mason or give in to desire no longer matter.
Not when his face is bathed in a warm orange glow, and there’s a fire in his eyes.
I wonder if he can see how hard this is for me, and if it makes him want me more.
Is it the thrill of the chase, or is there something else?