Chapter 31
EVA
The world spins on its axis before something heavy falls near me with a loud thud.
My eyes peel open to a blinding blur, head pounding, throat crushed against the seat belt, threatening to claim my final breath. A familiar silhouette sprawls in front of me.
“Dad!” I shout.
But the voice I hear isn’t mine.
Another muffled voice speaks, like a sound underwater.
I know that voice. But I can’t place it.
Panic coils in my chest as I snatch at the hand extended toward me. Fingers clutching the sleeve, slowly reaching up the arm, I grip Dad’s shoulder and pull with every ounce of strength I can muster.
The motionless body turns, stabbed in the chest, drenched in crimson.
And then I see the face.
“Mason,” I shriek, jolting upright, sweating bullets, heart hammering, trying to break through my ribcage.
My head is spinning in all directions, taking in my new surroundings, desperately trying to ground myself in reality.
I’m on Mason’s bed.
No Mason.
That explains the nightmare.
What was that? Unlike the usual horrors, this wasn’t a memory. It was a real nightmare. Mine wrapped up in his.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I bury my head and take in a few deep breaths. Warm sunlight spills through the glass, washing over me in soft, golden waves.
Wait, what time is it? My eyes flash to the window. It’s bright daylight outside. It must be the middle of the afternoon.
Damn it. How long did I sleep?
A soft creak drifts in from outside the bedroom.
“Mason?” I call.
Silence.
I drag myself off the bed and grab Mason’s T-shirt, flung over the headboard, and my skirt, crumpled on the floor.
Slowly, I slide into the clothes, then prowl out of the room, barefoot, brushing my pebbled arms. My hand grazes the exposed bricks on the landing as I cautiously make my way down the stairs with soft steps.
“Mason?” I call again, peeking into the empty side room.
Where the hell is he?
I stop at the kitchen door and decide to get some water. My throat is so dry, my voice is too gruff to hear. A wave of chills spills from the fridge, kissing my face and sending a shiver through me. I grab a bottle of sparkling water and seal the door.
“Jesus,” I shriek, jumping out of my skin.
Hugo Pike stands at the kitchen’s threshold in baggy joggers and a hoodie, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed.
“Morning, princess.” His leering eyes drag down my legs, making me twitch. “How’s the hip?” An evil grin lights his long face.
“How’s the jaw?” I return the smirk, taking a sip of water. That wipes the smug expression off his face. “Where is Mason?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“Fort business,” he replies, “a.k.a. none of your fucking business.”
“So, when will he be back?” I ask through gritted teeth, trying my best not to let him get to me.
“When the business is concluded, obviously.” Hugo shrugs.
Brilliant. So, Mason just leaves me here with Hugo, of all people? Out of all the hypothetical threats Jack and Mason keep warning me about, Hugo is the only one who’s actually come close to hurting me since I arrived at Fort. Unless you count Penny accidentally knocking me over while dancing.
Then another shadow trails down the stairs, making Hugo feel like my best friend.
I freeze, the cap of the bottle pausing in my hand as Kane, dressed all in black, strides into the kitchen, stomping his feet. A pointless reflex, since the man completely ignores my existence.
Speechless, I stare at him as he grabs a drink from the fridge and heads out without a word.
Mason promised they wouldn't return. What gives?
Just as I am about to head upstairs and summon Jack, the creaking sound of the ugly, red front door pierces the silence.
“She up yet?” my favorite voice asks.
A massive grin spreads on my face. Not only because I really needed out of this awkward interaction with his friend, but because I needed to know he was okay. It was just a nightmare, I know that. But in my head, it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Mason walks in, looking illegally hot, in a white T-shirt, black jeans, and a leather jacket, his hair tousled, no stab wounds, no blood.
“Go help,” Mason barks at Hugo, grabbing his neck and shoving him toward the door, before he covers the distance to me in four long strides. I stand on my tiptoes, ready to greet him.
“You said we would be alone,” I whisper with a pout.
His lips twitch at one corner, then press against mine, fingers gripping the hem of my skirt and tugging it down, as far as it will go.
I giggle between the kisses. My clothes are just fine, Mason gets mad at the wind if it blows my skirt up nowadays.
“Why are they back?” I ask.
“To steal all my food,” he grunts against my lips. “Fucking scavengers.”
He tastes so good, my fingers rake in his hair, pulling him close as I start rubbing myself up and down his front.
“Behave.” He breaks the kiss.
“What? You didn’t miss me?”
“Almost fucked you in your sleep,” he mutters.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Stop!” he warns. “You’re making me hard.”
“Stop, why? Because of Hugo and Kane?”
“No. Because…”
“Stop eating all the food already.” A woman’s voice comes from the hall. “Siete entrambi degli stronzi,” she roars in a strong Italian accent. You’re both arseholes.
My eyes widen until they bulge.
“Is that—” I whisper-yell.
“Want to meet Ma?” Mason smirks.
Oh my God. He is crazy!
I shake my head furiously, backing away. I’m not even sure where I would go, but there is no way in fucking hell I’m meeting Reginald Grant’s wife, the mafia princess, in Mason’s house, dressed in his clothes.
“Where do you think you are going?” he asks, grabbing me by the waist as I make a run for the door.
“Let me go.” I slap his arm. “I’m not meeting her.”
“Didn’t we agree we aren’t keeping it a secret?”
“I take it back,” I snap, squirming in his grip. “Go back to your fangirls. I don’t care. Let me fucking go!”
I shriek when he lifts me like a child, with his arms tightly wound around my waist, while I kick my legs at him.
“Too late, little dove,” he snickers. “You were caught. I’m keeping you now.”
“What if she shoots me?” I hiss at him.
“Then you’ll be dead. Because I don’t miss, mia cara.” Alessia Morelli Grant, a gorgeous Italian woman with golden curls, stands in front of me in denims and a camel leather jacket.
If I hadn’t already seen a photo of her, I wouldn’t have guessed she was Mason’s mother. She looks athletic and young for her age. I used to think Mason was a spitting image of his father, but seeing her in the flesh, it’s clear he gets his most irresistible features from her.
“Ma.” Mason pulls me back by my hips. “This is Eva.”
I stare at Mason’s mother, wide-eyed, speechless.
“Are you going to say something?” he whispers in my ear.
Like what? Hello, I am the enemy’s granddaughter, who is shacking up with your son. Please don’t kill me?
“I think she is hoping, if she stays frozen, I won’t notice she’s there.” Alessia tilts her head and smiles.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Grant.” I swallow loudly, nerves shaking my voice a little. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Alessia,” she corrects. “We are a spontaneous family, hon. Not much for polite announcements.”
Great, she thinks I’m a stuck-up bitch now. Nice going.
“So, you’re the Etheridge girl?” Alessia appraises me. “I suppose I should be jealous. In twenty years of marriage, my husband has never spoken about another woman as much as he has about you.”
“Tell your husband to fuck off.” Mason snorts, twirling my hair around his finger. “She’s mine.”
I throw the back of my fist into his chest. It hits his shoulder instead. Ouch! Alessia giggles as I purse my lips and shake my hand, soundlessly.
“What did you expect?” Mason strokes my knuckles.
“Rookie mistake, Eva,” Alessia tuts, reaches for a steel ladle on the worktop, and throws it at me. I catch it before it hits me in the chest. “Use that next time. You’ve got to protect your bones.” She flashes her own hand.
“Don’t teach her bad habits, Ma.” Mason swings his arms around my shoulders and pins me to his chest. “She’s trouble enough.”
“Got to give the girl a little help. She doesn’t know what she’s dealing with.”
A smile curls my lips as I bat the ladle in my palm like a whip. “Please, tell me more.”
“Mason takes after his father. There are a few nuts and bolts missing in their heads, but you’ll get used to it.” She lazily waves a hand.
“Not just a few nuts and bolts, his whole cylinder block is missing.” Kane enters carrying six platters of delicious-smelling food. Some sweets and savories, some pastas in silver trays. He stacks them in the cupboards and the freezer. Hugo follows with a half-eaten platter of snacks and biscotti.
“Stop eating all the food,” Alessia scolds. “Do you know how much time I put into that? It’s supposed to last you a month. And save some for the girl.”
“Fuck that!” Hugo makes a face. “She got us kicked out. Now you want us to share our food? Unlike your traitor spawn, I have principles.”
“Some principles.” Alessia giggles. Hugo’s brows furrow in question. “Tom came to see Reg this morning. He was furious. Something about naked girls passed out in his study.”
Kane and Mason laugh at Hugo’s expression.
“Oh, fuck him.” Hugo drops the near-empty plate on the table. “It was one girl, and she was dressed. Mostly,” Hugo says over a mouthful and jabs a finger toward Mason. “It’s his fucking fault. Fucking Romeo of fucked-up fantasy fucking land, ruining my fucking life.”
“That’s a lot of fucks.” Alessia laughs.
It’s refreshing to see how playful Alessia is with them. I’m not used to mothers being so… carefree.