Chapter Nineteen
Mason
My eyes fly open when I hear a soft whimpering sound.
Still half-blinded by sleep, I reach for the gun under my pillow and frown when I don’t find it.
Abruptly, I sit up in bed, and my eyes dart around the unfamiliar cream-colored room.
Frowning, I rub my eyes and twist to look at the person next to me, struggling to sort through the thick fog that has settled over my brain.
As soon as my eyes land on London, some of the fog clears, and the previous night comes rushing back.
I don’t remember coming back to bed.
All I know is that I left London in the room to go find a drink.
One drink turned into four, and at some point during the night, I found my way back to her.
I vaguely recall her curled up on the bed, eyelids fluttering in restless sleep.
I have no idea how or why I climbed into bed with her, or how hours later, with the morning sun climbing into the sky, I’m still in bed with her.
But it’s almost comforting to study her in the soft glow of the sun.
She looks peaceful with her hair fanned out behind her, and her hands curled under her.
Like her whole world hasn’t just changed.
Fuck.
This is why I don’t spend the night in any bed other than my own. It’s also why I don’t like to fall asleep next to the women I fuck. Seeing them in a different light complicates things, and London has already caused enough trouble.
I don’t like seeing her like this. It stirs unfamiliar feelings within me.
Feelings I don’t have the first clue what to do with.
London groans softly, and I resist the urge to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. Still, my hand darts forward, and I pull the covers up to her chin. She sighs, and her features soften further, causing my stomach to dip.
How can she look so peaceful after the night she’s had, and after knowing that the two people she cares most about in the world have turned their backs on her?
I feel guilty for my role in this, but not guilty enough to let her out of her contract.
Now that I’ve had a taste of London, now that I know what it feels like to be inside of her, I can’t turn back.
I won’t.
No matter how messy it’s making things for me.
London will just have to get over how she feels, and I know how to help her.
You’re not even going to give her a beat to process everything? She lost her father and boyfriend in one fell swoop. You could at least show some compassion.
I scoff at the idea and inch away from her.
Inviting London to dinner was as close as she was going to get to a display of emotion. I don’t wine and dine the women I sleep with, and London won’t be the exception, no matter how vulnerable or hurt she is.
Last night was a glimpse of what things could be like, and I know that in time, she will give in to me completely, and I’ll erase all traces of Noah from her mind for good. Last night, when I was on top of her, I saw the moment the switch flipped.
The way she let go and enjoyed herself was addicting, intoxicating in a way I couldn’t have imagined.
I want to see it again and again.
I want many more nights of her with her head thrown back and her lips parted in pleasure.
I want her on top of me, under me, and everything between.
London sighs in her sleep, and I curl my hands into fists. Slowly and reluctantly, I force myself out of bed and twist to face her. Despite my better judgment, I stand there for a while longer, studying the even rise and fall of her chest, and the way her long lashes frame her face.
She doesn’t belong in my world, but it doesn’t make me want her any less.
I know I should ease her into the darkness, but I can’t stop myself.
Seeing her face last night cemented what I’ve known for a while.
London wants me almost as much as I want her, and after spending so long fighting it, I knew all she needed was the right push.
I should thank Noah and her dad for making it so easy for me.
I also want to hunt them down and bring them to their knees to apologize.
What the fuck? Get a grip, Payne. You’re not her boyfriend, remember? One night together, and you’re already acting out of character. What is the matter with you?
When she makes another noise and flips onto her side, I suddenly see myself as a younger boy, standing at the foot of my mother’s bed, waiting for her to wake up.
What is it about London that reminds me of my late mother?
Is it her goodness, or the fact that she’s willing to fight for the people she loves?
Something tells me she won’t give up on her father despite the difficult situation he’s put her in, and it makes me want her that much more.
Her fire and spirit are the reasons I wanted her in my bed, but it’s the vulnerability on her face that makes me reluctant to wake her.
London is the first woman who has ever slept here.
I’ve never seen anyone look so sad and so beautiful, and I don’t like the memories it conjures.
My frown deepens as I force myself out of the room and down the hall to mine. There, I let the door click shut and step into the adjoining bathroom. While I wait for the water to heat up, I try not to let my thoughts drift to my mother.
Now and again, I wonder what she would think if she were still alive, and whether or not she’d be proud of me.
Would she understand the decisions I’ve made to survive?
Or would she remind me of what I’d let go to get here, and the parts of me I’ve kept hidden to make it to the top?
I want to believe she’d understand. After all, she knew about my father and the kind of life he led.
I also know she’d be disappointed.
She would’ve at least wanted you to find love. Remember how she always told you to fight for it? To recognize it when it comes into your life?
Even when I was little, she’d stay up with me at night, telling me stories about how rare and powerful love is, and how it’s worth fighting for.
Of all the things my father had, my mother was far and away the most valuable thing he owned, and we’d all known it.
My brothers, sister, and I all knew how lucky we were to have her kindness and generosity prevail despite the world we lived in.
Losing her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to live with, and each day without her, and without her patience and wisdom to help guide me, feels like I’m drifting further away from the man she wanted me to be.
I know that without her, I’m turning into the man my father wants me to be.
I also know he didn’t force me into this life.
I went into it with eyes wide open, and I don’t like that having London around is making me question it.
She has no idea how hard I’ve worked, or what I’ve sacrificed for the Payne legacy.
Nor will she.
London is here to scratch an itch, not help me face my demons.
I have no interest in rehashing my past, especially not with her. One night with her shouldn’t have me this worked up.
Why, then, do I feel the need to go back and comfort her?
Why do I feel an urge to be there when she opens her eyes?
I spend the next few minutes listening for London through the door.
I don’t know if I want her to find me or not.
When I come out of the bathroom, I fling the closet doors open and riffle through the contents. I select my usual suit, a button-down shirt, and a pair of socks. As I pull on the clothes, I focus on the task at hand and try not to think about London.
What good will it do, anyway?
I won’t seek her out like a lovesick puppy.
Still, as I leave the room to find my usual breakfast of oatmeal and eggs waiting on the marble kitchen counter, I replay the phone call in my head. I’ve heard plenty of angry calls from family members and boyfriends, so I don’t know why this one was hard to listen to.
Something about the devastated look in London’s eyes and the way she hung her head as her worthless boyfriend hammered into her got to me.
And hearing her father rip into her made something inside me snap.
I have half a mind to drive over to the diner and teach him a lesson.
Considering everything London has given up to save him, I expected him to be a bit more grateful. I’d even expect him to make it up to her, but he has no idea, exactly, what she’s gotten into.
But the old man isn’t stupid.
By now, I suspect he’s put two and two together, even if he won’t say it loud.
For now, letting them believe she works at the club is better for everyone involved, including her.
The food is cold and bland as I wolf it down, following it with a steaming mug of espresso. I debate whether or not to hunt down Noah’s friend and put his face through a wall. Men like Steven shouldn’t be allowed to get away with such things.
For the rest of the day, I hole up in my office in the club, so I don’t see London. I push my feelings deep down where they can’t distract me. And I tell myself we’re both better off for it.
I remind myself of why London is here when Katia comes in with a progress report on the mayor.
I repeat the reasons to myself when Carlisle comes in and we discuss loan repayments.
I even think of it again when I catch a glimpse of London through the crack in the door, and I have to keep myself from dragging her into my office.
I can still taste her on my tongue.
If I focus, I can almost smell her perfume.
It’s irritating the shit out of me because I don’t want to have these thoughts.
I intend to fuck her many more times before her contract is up, but not if it means getting this worked up every time.
I need to squash the feelings I’m developing.
I’m not a damaged monster who needs to be redeemed by her love, and I’m not looking for London to save me.
I like my life, and all these feelings do is complicate things.
They’re a nuisance, and as the day drags on and my need for her grows, it only steels my resolve.
Remember what’s at stake. It isn’t a stupid crush. You can’t afford to be distracted, not with an empire to run and your father breathing down your neck.
He would never let me hear the end of it.
Nor would anyone else.
I’m already under enough scrutiny, especially with the Everetts and Fizpatricks breathing down my neck about the location.
Hours later, after I’ve snapped at anyone who crossed my path, I force myself to step out of the office.
I’m nursing a drink on the main floor when I see London.
I grip the glass tighter and ignore the twitch in my stomach.
Thankfully, she doesn’t approach me. She keeps her head down, ducking in and out of rooms she cleans.
Miss Deveroux says something to me, but I’m not listening.
At the end of her shift, London leans across the bar to say something to Miss Deveroux, and I think their eyes land on me briefly. A few moments pass before London sidles up to me and signals for a drink. Slowly, I turn to face her, but she isn’t looking at me.
“Whatever you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it.”
London curls her fingers around the wine glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I lean sideways, so my mouth is in front of her ear. “Yes, you do. Don’t fucking pretend you’re not sitting here because of me.”
London turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to sit here and have a drink?”
“You can, but that’s not what you’re doing. You’re fishing, but you knew what you were getting into before last night. So, if you’re here to make me feel guilty, it won’t work.”
A flash of surprise moves across her face. “Make you feel guilty about what? We both wanted last night to happen. You never lied about who you were or what you wanted.”
I turn to face her. “But?”
London shrugs and breaks our gaze. “There are no buts. Like I said, I knew what I was getting into. I came to you, anyway.”
I toss back the rest of my drink and narrow my eyes. “Your ex and father are fucking morons. I’d be on my knees begging for your forgiveness if I were them. You could’ve walked away and left your father to deal with his mess.”
London’s grip on her glass tightens. “They don’t know any better, and you’re not like them, so I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Damn straight I’m not.” I stand up and roll my shoulders. “I’m not stupid or ungrateful.”
London glances over at me, a furrow appearing between her brows. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
I scoff. “Why in the hell would I do that? It’s not my job to cater to your emotions. If that’s what you’re looking for, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. I can, however, interest you in other things.”
London’s lips lift into the barest hint of a smile. “I’m aware.”
I lean forward again and brush my hand against her leg. “Good. I don’t need to remind you not to discuss the particulars of our arrangement with other employees.”
London takes a sip of her drink and eyes me over the rim. “Why would I? It’s not something I plan to discuss with anyone.”
I can’t tell if I hear shame or guilt in her voice, but I don’t care.
As long as it doesn’t keep her out of my bed.
I take a long sip of my drink and watch her. “You enjoyed yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for because you’re going to do it again.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Call it intuition.”
London sighs. “I think there’s more to it than that. About yesterday…”
I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for that.”
London blinks. “Shouldn’t I thank you anyway?”
“That’s not what we are to each other.”
London’s smile vanishes. “Yes, I know.”
I lean forward and wait for her breath to hitch. “I’ll see you later.”
Without waiting for a response, I stalk off, feeling her eyes on me the whole way. I can’t tell if the churning in my stomach is satisfaction or unease.
But I do know it’s pissing me off.
Grow up, Payne. It was just sex. Whatever you’re feeling right now just means it’ll take you a little longer to scratch the itch than you thought.
London is a little more addictive than I thought she would be.