Chapter 1
Gunnar
Rich people who flash their wealth around and party like the entitled assholes they are piss me the fuck off.
Especially if their last name is Novak, their first name is Mark, and the title Premier goes in front.
How the hell he‘s still our state Premier is fucking beyond me, and how the fuck I’ve ended up at the same hotel tonight where he’s throwing some fancy fucking party is just another reason to be pissed at Nash for.
I’m only here because he couldn’t make it at the last minute.
“Gunnar, you dragging ass for any particular reason?” Griff asks as he turns to look back at me, annoyance written all over his face. My VP usually has way more patience than he appears to have tonight, leaving me wondering what’s going on with him.
I pull my gaze from the ballroom we’ve just passed and eye Griff. “Not anymore.”
“Good. I’ve got my woman waiting at home for me, so the sooner we get this done, the better.”
Makes sense now. I like his old lady and don’t blame him for being in a hurry to get home.
Following Griff to the lift, a flash of skin catches my attention and I allow myself to be distracted. Worst fucking idea I’ve had in a long time because the skin belongs to the last woman I ever want to see again.
Chelsea Novak.
Premier Novak’s daughter.
Slowing my stride, I take in her long tanned legs that seem to go on forever and make my way up to her red dress that only just covers her ass.
It also barely covers her tits, plunging low and giving me an eyeful of the cleavage I dreamed about in my teens.
Thin straps are the only thing covering her shoulders, revealing her toned arms. The dress is plastered to the top half of her body, ballooning out at the waist. I don’t want to admit it, but she looks hot as fuck.
The kind of hot I doubt her father will appreciate.
From what I’ve seen of Chelsea the last few years, she keeps a low modest profile designed not to do any harm to her father’s career.
As I turn to direct my attention back to Griff, Chelsea’s eyes meet mine.
Her legs stop moving.
Her mouth parts.
Her mask slips.
It’s been four years since we’ve seen each other, but eight years since we’ve had any meaningful interaction, and yet it’s like no time has passed.
When her mask slips, I see the real Chelsea she hides underneath.
The one I used to know better than I knew myself.
Gone is the perfectly arranged expression the world gets.
In its place is a whisper of uncertainty and vulnerability.
Except, I don’t know her anymore, so fuck knows who the real Chelsea is these days.
Yeah, don’t forget what she did all those years ago.
“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Don’t let her blind you again.
The moment is over before it even begins. Chelsea’s mask reappears, and with a shake of my head, I stalk the rest of the way to the lift where Griff’s waiting for me.
Chelsea Novak belongs where I left her all those years ago. Or should I say, where she left me. In the past, without another thought.
“He won’t be a problem going forward,” Griff says to the man we’ve come to see. Dwayne Moss, uber fucking wealthy asshole who controls almost as much of this state as Mark Novak does. Possibly more if you consider the dirty deals he does with Novak and his colleagues.
Moss narrows his eyes at Griff. “How can you be so sure?”
Griff looks less than impressed with that question but keeps his cool. Lifting his chin at Moss, he says, “Check your emails. I sent you one earlier. The kid has been taken care of, and if you can name one time I’ve let you down when I said I’ve handled shit, I’m all fucking ears.”
Moss regularly hires us to clean up his mess. Last night, he called on Griff for help with a sex tape his daughter recently made with the kid in question. He can’t afford for that shit to be made public.
He checks his emails before looking at Griff again. “Well, shit. It seems you aren’t fucking about here.”
Griff swipes the envelope of cash off the table before Moss can hand it to him.
“I’m not in the business of fucking about, Dwayne.
” Yeah, he’s pissed. I’m unaware of the history between these two, but I’m picking up a whole heap of tension.
Griff hasn’t been himself since I met him outside the hotel.
It seems he doesn’t much like this prick.
He eyes me. “Time to go.”
“Tell Cole I’ll be in touch next week with another job I need taken care of,” Moss says.
Griff nods but doesn’t say another word before heading for the door. I follow him out to the lift, and we ride down to the ground floor in silence. As we exit the lift, Griff says, “You still good for tomorrow?”
“Yeah. You said ten, right?” I agreed to help him with some landscaping at his new place. He and his old lady are holding a housewarming party next weekend, so he needs this landscaping finished in time for that.
He nods.
“I’ll be there, brother,” I say.
His phone sounds with a text, drawing his attention from me. Once he’s read it, he glances back at me. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks for tonight. I appreciate it.”
As I watch him walk away, the sound of two people arguing shifts my attention to the right.
Fuck, it’s Chelsea and her father. Judging by his dark expression and the way he’s jabbing a finger in the air at her, he’s livid.
When I see him grip her arm and force her hard against the wall so he can get in her face, I move in their direction.
I might not want anything to do with Chelsea, but I draw the line at what’s going on here.
“You will do as I say, Chelsea, and if you ever turn up to one of my functions wearing a dress like that again, you’ll wish you hadn’t,” Novak snarls as I get closer.
Chelsea’s lips flatten. “I’m twenty-five, Dad, and not a kid anymore. I told you that Joe and I would never work out, and I meant it. That’s not something I’ll ever agree to. And trust me when I say there are plenty more dresses like this one about to hit my wardrobe.”
Novak jerks her arm, pulling her closer so he can speak quietly against her ear. I can’t hear his words, but Chelsea’s body language lets me know it’s nothing good.
I take this moment to cut in. “Careful, Novak, I’m pretty sure I saw some reporters hanging around. You wouldn’t wanna get caught manhandling your daughter outside your fancy party.”
Chelsea’s eyes cut to mine, the brilliant blue in them flaring with surprise. “Mason—”
Her father cuts her off as he looks at me. “This has nothing to do with you, Mason, so I suggest you leave us alone to deal with family business as we see fit.”
I arch a brow. This motherfucker is just as fucking smug as he was back when I hung out with Chelsea.
The difference these days is I have zero fucks to give about telling him what I think of his asshole personality.
“The problem with that is your way of dealing with family business involves you hurting your daughter, and I can’t stand by and watch that shit happen. ”
Novak’s eyes flash with a warning as if that will scare me off.
He doesn’t know me anymore; he doesn’t know that nothing fucking scares me off anymore.
“Unless you walk out of here now, I’ll make sure you regret this conversation in the same way I made sure you were no longer a threat to my family all those years ago.
” He leans closer to me. “Get the fuck out of my sight now.”
I don’t know what the hell he means by that, but I don’t have time to get into it with him before Chelsea says, “Mason, I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me.” Her eyes plead with me like she wants me to stop what I’m doing.
Fuck, I’m annoyed at myself for caring about this spoiled princess.
I swore I was done with her when she tossed me away like I was the shit on her fucking shoes back in high school.
And I am done, but apparently there’s this one fucking part of me that can’t help but care when her father’s treating her like shit.
Squaring my shoulders, I ignore Chelsea and direct my attention to Novak. “I’m not the kid you walked all over, Novak. Not by a long fucking shot. And I’m not leaving until I’ve had a word with Chelsea. Alone.”
His face twists with contempt. “I know exactly the kind of man you’ve grown into, Mason.
You would do well to remember that I know who you are and who you associate with, and that I can make life hard for you in an instant.
” He looks at Chelsea. “I’ll give you five minutes.
If you’re not back in the ballroom after that, we’ll be discussing many things, the least of which will be your failure to agree to marry Joe. ”
He stalks away without another glance in my direction. I’m still watching him when Chelsea says, “Jesus, Mason, I’m capable of looking after myself. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
My head swings back to her. “Are you fucking kidding me? He looked like he was about to deliver some serious damage to you. And we both fucking know what he’s capable of, so—”
“So nothing!” The wild look in her eyes confuses me. I can’t tell if she’s pissed off or stressed or what. One thing’s for sure, though: I’m annoyed at her reaction to me trying to help her.