Chapter Twenty-Eight #5
The real question is whether he’ll allow me to serve out my sentence, or if he’ll move in on my dad’s diner.
Katia is in front of me before I can react, and the look on her face makes me reach for the nearest weapon. I pick up the butter knife and hold it out. “I’m not your enemy, Katia. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Katia snorts. “I can take that knife from you before you even blink.”
I frown. “Why haven’t you?”
Katia’s dark eyes give nothing away. “My relationship with Mr. Payne is none of your concern. You should be focused on other things.”
I grip the knife tighter. “Like keeping myself safe?”
Katia flashes me a smile that sets me more on edge. “Yes, for starters. You should also be figuring out why your dad and Noah sold you out.”
“How did you…”
Katia raises a hand to silence me. “They’re both fine.”
My heart skips a beat. “How do you know that? If you’ve done anything to them, I swear to God, I’ll—”
Katia takes a menacing step toward me, and the rest of my sentence dies on my tongue. “You’ll what? Slice me open with a butter knife?”
I study her face, and my chest tightens. “Maybe.”
That earns me a chuckle from Katia. “You’re not as brainless as I thought.”
“I was going to say the same thing about you.”
She laughs. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I’ve cut down people for a lot less.”
I grip the knife tighter and square my shoulders. “Go ahead. Do your worst.”
Katia lets her eyes sweep over me. “I don’t think so. I’m not going to be used to solve your problems. As for your dad and Noah, who do you think figured out where to find you?”
I curl my free hand into a fist. “Why?”
Having me out of the way makes Katia’s life easier.
She wouldn’t have had to lift a finger, and she could’ve easily slithered her way back into Mason’s bed.
He would’ve gone back to her, anyway.
Katia no longer looks amused. “When he comes back to me, it’ll be because he’s tired of you.”
Like me, she has no interest in being anyone’s second choice.
Katia’s expression hardens as she snatches the knife from my hand and lets it fall to the floor with a clatter. “Figure out a way to clean up your mess, London. Mr. Payne doesn’t like loose ends, and neither do I.”
With that, she turns and exits the kitchen.
“Wait,” I call out, but she doesn’t stop. I stare at the space she occupied for a long time, my heart hammering in my chest. With shaky hands, I kneel to pick up the butter knife, then reach for the phone in my pocket and stare at the screen. I dial a number I know by heart and press it to my ear.
My dad answers on the sixth ring, sounding cheerful albeit a bit out of breath.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Was Katia right?
My dad sold me out?
He says something, but I don’t hear him.
I shake my head sadly, end the call, and hang my head.
I’m trying to remember how to breathe when Mason finds me.
“I’ll be out of here in a couple of days,”
“I already told you that—”
“I’ll go back to the housing complex,” I interrupt. “I’m not going back on my word. My dad doesn’t deserve to lose the diner.”
Mason shoves one hand into his pocket as his eyes search mine. “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.”
“I will not have sex with you again,” I inform him flatly. “That part is over.”
He comes with too many strings attached, and while I have a habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve, I have no interest in being kidnapped again.
I want to walk away from all of this with as minimal damage as possible.
Being involved with Mason isn’t worth risking my life, no matter how incredible the sex is.
Who am I trying to kid? It stopped being about the sex a while ago.
Still, he doesn’t need to know that.
I can figure out a way to mend by broken heart later, if I live through all of this.
Mason remains unmoved. “You changed your mind once. You’ll change it again.”
I take the container back to the fridge and slam the door. “Don’t hold your breath. I’m going back upstairs.”
“It doesn’t matter how much physical distance you place between us. This thing isn’t going to go away, London. And you know it.”
I resist the urge to turn and quicken my pace instead.
I expect Mason to follow me, but when he doesn’t, I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved.
What did you think would happen? He would sweep you into his arms and bare his feelings? Come on, London. This isn’t a romance novel. Grow the fuck up.
There’s a knock on the bedroom door a while later.
I walk across the room and press my ear to the door but don’t hear anything.
When I wrench it open, there’s a tray of food and a note.
Scowling, I crumple the note without reading it and toss it aside.
I take the tray inside and kick the door shut.
Then, I perch back on the edge of the bed and rip off a piece of bread.
Don’t let him suck you back in, London. He’s done enough damage. Rescuing you doesn’t change anything, and neither does him leaving you a tray of food.
Showing the smallest bit of decency and kindness doesn’t change who he is or what he does.
The bread is stale, the tomato soup is cold, and my stomach rumbles as I sit there, watching the window. When the first patches of light emerge on the horizon to illuminate the world in soft hues, I sink to the floor and stretch my legs out in front of me.
I wait for the sun to climb into the sky as I study the tiny particles of light on the hardwood floors of the guest bedroom.
Then, I get to my feet and, without changing my clothes, I crawl beneath the covers and draw them up to my chest.
Sleep eludes me as I lay there, staring at the cream-colored ceiling, unable to ignore a sense of foreboding.