Chapter 3 #2
She turned to me, and I stood too, suddenly aware that I was wearing yesterday’s tie because I’d been too distracted this morning to pick out a new one. “Beau, sweetheart. How was your first day?”
“Great. Really great. The team’s been very welcoming.”
“Good.” Her eyes flicked between Mason and me. “I hope you two are settling into working together?”
“Absolutely,” Mason said.
“No problems at all,” I added.
“Mason, I need you to cover a hearing for me this afternoon. The Riverside Medical malpractice case—Dr. Hartley and the botched knee surgery. I was supposed to argue the preliminary motion to dismiss, but I have an emergency meeting with the Dominion Arts Center board of directors that I can’t reschedule. ”
Mason’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Of course. What time?”
“One o’clock. Judge Morrison’s courtroom. I’ve already had Lisa pull the file—it should be on your desk within the hour. The motion is solid, but Morrison can be unpredictable, so be prepared for curveballs.”
“Understood.”
“Thank you, darling.” She squeezed his shoulder, then looked at both of us again. “You two keep working on the PharmaTech strategy. Carter wants an update by the end of the week, so don’t dawdle.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we said in unison.
She gave us one last smile and left, closing the door behind her.
The second she was gone, the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees.
Mason sat back down and picked up his pen. “As I was saying, being on time is a basic professional courtesy.”
“And as I was saying, traffic exists.” I dropped back into my chair.
“Then leave earlier.”
“Or you could relax,” I huffed.
His pen stopped moving. “Excuse me?”
“Relax. You know, that thing normal people do when they’re not wound tighter than a—”
“Let’s just get to work.” He pushed a stack of documents across the desk toward me.
“These are the due diligence reports from PharmaTech’s last three fiscal years.
I need you to review them for any red flags—discrepancies in financial reporting, regulatory violations, anything that could blow up the merger. ”
I pulled the stack toward me, flipping through the first few pages. “You’ve already been through these?”
“Twice.”
“Find anything?”
“A few inconsistencies in their R&D expenditures. Nothing major, but worth flagging.”
I looked up at him, surprised. “You’ve been here since what, six AM?”
“Five-thirty.”
“Jesus Christ. Do you sleep?”
“Do you?”
The question landed harder than it should have. I thought about last night—lying awake, thinking about him, wondering if he was thinking about me too.
“Touché,” I muttered.
For the next hour, we worked in relative silence. Mason walked me through the merger timeline, the key players on both sides, and the regulatory hurdles we’d need to clear. He was thorough, methodical, and annoyingly brilliant.
It was infuriating.
It was also kind of impressive.
“So MediCorp’s CEO is the real wildcard,” Mason said, pulling up a profile on his laptop and turning the screen toward me.
“Richard Vaughn. He’s been pushing for this merger for two years, but he’s also got a reputation for last-minute demands.
We need to anticipate what he might ask for and have counteroffers ready. ”
I leaned forward, studying Vaughn’s picture—silver-haired, expensive suit, the type of smile that said he’d sell you a car with no engine and make you thank him for it. “Looks like a real charmer.”
“He’s a nightmare. But he’s their nightmare, so we need to manage him.”
“Define ‘manage.’”
“Keep him happy without letting him derail the entire deal.” Mason pulled the laptop back, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “Patsy’s been working on a compromise regarding executive retention that might satisfy him. I’ll send you the draft.”
“You really have thought of everything.”
He paused, just for a second, like he wasn’t sure if I was being sarcastic. “It’s my job to think of everything.”
“No, I mean—” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “You’re good at this. Really good.”
Mason’s eyes met mine, and something shifted in his expression. “Thank you.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” But there was a ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
And slowly, without either of us acknowledging it, we found a working rhythm.
By the time Lisa knocked on the door to deliver the Riverside Medical file, we’d mapped out a preliminary strategy for the PharmaTech merger that was actually solid.
“Special delivery,” she announced, stepping inside with a manila folder. Her eyes did a quick sweep of the room—Mason at his desk, me in the chair across from him, papers spread between us like evidence of actual collaboration—and one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched up.
“Thanks, Lisa,” Mason said, reaching for the file.
She handed it over, but her gaze lingered on us for a beat too long. Her head tilted slightly, like a bird spotting something interesting, and her lips pressed together in a way that wasn’t quite a smile.
“You two look... productive,” she said, her tone overly neutral.
“Just working,” I said.
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes flicked to the coffee cups on Mason’s desk—two of them, one clearly mine—then back to us. The corner of her mouth twitched.
Mason, oblivious or pretending to be, opened the file and started scanning the first page. “Is this everything Morrison will need to see?”
“Everything and then some. I highlighted the relevant case law.” Lisa crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. Her gaze bounced between us again. “You know, it’s funny, but…”
“What is?” I asked, and noticed Lisa’s cheeks turn red.
“Nothing,” she blurted, then she left before either of us could respond.
Mason flipped open the file and immediately dove into prep mode for his afternoon hearing.
I watched him work—the way his eyes scanned pages at lightning speed, the way he made notes in the margins with that precise, angular handwriting, the way his brow furrowed when he found something that didn’t sit right.
He was completely in his element. Focused. Confident. In control.
And he was absolutely, undeniably, devastatingly hot.
Shit.
“You’re staring,” Mason said without looking up.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re staring at me. Why?”
Blood raced up my neck. “I’m not staring. I’m, uh, observing.”
“Observing what?”
How much I want to run my fingers through that perfect hair.
“Your process,” I said. “You’re very… thorough.”
“That’s called being competent.”
“Right, competent.” I stood, suddenly needing distance. “I’ll work on the due diligence reports in my office.”
“Fine.”
I headed for the door, then paused with my hand on the handle. “Mason?”
“What?”
“For what it’s worth—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but we actually worked pretty well together just now.”
He looked up, and for a moment, I saw it again. That glimpse of something underneath.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “We did.”
I left before either of us could ruin the moment.
Back in my office, I closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a long breath.
Working with Mason was supposed to be a disaster. So why did it feel like the most natural thing in the world?