Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Mase
Locking the Bentley, I round the bonnet and make my way to the elevators, my mind a fucking jumble of thoughts.
I haven’t heard from Nina. Not that I expected to, but not knowing where she is and what she’s doing drives me wild. Vinny refused to tail her. He has been far less compliant since he came back. It leaves me unable to function. I can’t eat, sleep and think about anything other than her.
Pathetic.
Inserting my key into the dial, I press the button to the penthouse, resting my head back against the cool glass mirror.
I need her.
The doors slide open, and I stride out, only making it a foot into the foyer before I stop short. My feet unable to move.
Her chocolate hair is down and flows to her waist. She’s wearing a pair of cycling shorts and a pale pink tank, a pair of running shoes adorning her feet. She spins on the spot, facing me with an uncertain look.
“You ran here?” I ask, the last question I want an answer to. I can tell she did by the sheen of sweat that coats her heaving chest.
She nods, looking up at me through her brows. I want to go to her, but something tells me to keep away.
I can’t read her right now.
She strides to me confidently, and I instantly regret not going to her first. She shows me her strength in her actions again and again. The fact she is here after I told her to walk away says everything about the woman that she is.
I take her chin as she steps up to me like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but she already has it held high. A silent demand to hear the truths I don’t want to give her.
“I know about Charlie’s sister, and I know what happened to her rapist.”
My hand drops along with my stomach, and all the blood inside me drains to my feet, leaving me light-headed.
“Say that again,” I rasp out.
“I think it’s best we don’t repeat it all that often, don’t you?”
I frown at her words.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Is that seriously all you have to say right now?”
“Nina—”
“Tell me everything, and so help me God, Mason, if you lie to me.”
My skin prickles as I try to trample my emotions.
She is here. She knows the worst of it, and she is here.
With hope in my heart, I search for the right words. “You know about Phoebe?”
“Yes. And about what happened after. Behind Charlie’s back,” she arches an accusing brow at me, but her eyes don’t hold the same conviction. “I want to know what Charlie won’t tell me. I want to know why your mother’s piano was in Erin’s studio.”
I snigger and look down. “Her name isn’t Erin.” My eyes burn into the ground at our feet as I take myself back to that night.
Only this time, I drag Nina through it with me.
Fourteen months earlier…
Rarely will I pick up at Melders. I try not to mix business with pleasure. But where my father’s lack of self-control lies with the bottle, mine seems to lie in the redhead that is currently on her knees, sucking my cock.
The smell of her cheap perfume assaults my senses, giving me a headache. She is hot, though. Damn, she is fucking stunning. She has that natural Jessica Rabbit vibe going on with her bouncy red hair and hourglass figure.
I’m not fooled, though. She is just like the rest of them. Following me with their eyes until I settle on one of them to take home for the night, just to fulfil a need. That’s all it is—emotionless sex at its finest.
She starts to moan around me, and I pull out of her mouth, finding her eagerness to please me fucking pathetic.
I just need to fuck.
“Out,” I demand, hitting the button to open the elevator doors. My patience has been wearing thin all night.
I haven’t heard anything from Vinny yet and I should have by now.
She climbs to her feet as I tuck myself away. The hunger in her eyes only grows when she sees my home, confirming my initial judgement of her.
“Wow. Becks said you had money. This is next level.”
She walks into the room, past the sectional sofas and over to the piano. It stands between the lounge and the dining area, the perfect view of the London skyline beyond it.
Using her hands, she pulls herself up to sit on it, crossing her legs and letting her dress slide up her thigh. “Come here,” she croons.
Reluctantly I move to her, my fists clenching at my sides as I watch her squirm on the polished wood. I don’t like the feeling growing inside me at seeing her on my mother’s piano.
Wrapping my hands around her waist, I grasp her tight. She unfolds her legs, lifting them to lock around my waist, and then I lift her from it. “You don’t touch this,” I warn.
“No? I was hoping you’d fuck me on it.” She pops a brow.
Does she think that’s going to turn me on? Fucking her on my mother’s piano? I’ve never been so soft in my life.
“You don’t fucking touch it. Got it?” I spit out, making her face drop.
Not wanting her anywhere near my personal things or feelings, I take her lips, hoping it will get me going again. I already know I am going to have to work for it. Maybe I’m an asshole, but girls like…
“What’s your name again?”
“Cara.” She giggles into my neck as I carry her up the stairs.
Girls like Cara are only after one thing. Money. They can smell it from a mile off, and if I didn’t take her home tonight, El would have. That’s how I sleep at night, knowing she is only after a notch on her millionaire tally. I’m just something to brag about come Monday morning.
Four hours later…
I pace the kitchen as sweat forms on my brow. “Well, where the fuck is he now?”
“I don’t know, Mase, you need to calm down. Vin will deal with this.” Lance tells me from his spot at my kitchen island.
“Calm down? Fucking murder, Sullivan, that’s what this is!”
Everything is fucked.
He screws his face up. “No, it’s not. It’s a lesson, and he fucking deserved it.”
My hands rake through my hair. He deserved it. Fuck. He deserved it.
“How long is he going to be? I can’t wait around like this.” I snap.
“Give it an hour and we’ll call.”
“Fuck that—”
Lance lifts a hand to stop me, his face tight. I follow his gaze which is trained on the closed kitchen door. “You hear that?” he mouths.
I walk to the door and rip it open.
The redhead gasps, and I try to remember her name, but my mind is already processing the conversation I had moments ago and how much of it she may have heard. “I was just leaving. I came to say goodbye.”
She heard us.
She heard what we said.
Murder.
“Thank you for this evening, my friend is expecting me home.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I spit.
FUCK.
“What did you hear?” Lance asks from behind me.
“Nothing.” She says in a panic. “I’m just going to go change.”
She spins and runs for the stairs, the sheet clenched white-knuckled in her grip.
“The fuck, Lowell!” Lance hisses.
“She might not have heard everything.”
“As if, you saw how quickly she fucking ran from you.”
My phone starts to ring and I look down to see Scott’s number lighting up my screen. Lance takes the phone and steps towards the elevator.
“Fix that.” He eyes the stairs. “Make her keep her mouth shut.”
I wait for what feels like hours for her to reappear. My hands pulling at my scalp as I fight to find the right words.
How do I explain this?
She scurries from the room and spots me instantly, flinching before she schools her features.
My eyes blaze through her as she pulls her shoulders back, and I watch her put on a front, walking down the stairs, then moving past me and towards the doors.
“It’s not what you think,” I rush out, and I don’t know if it’s the panic in my voice, but something makes her pause.
“How do you know what I am thinking?” she asks, jutting out her chin.
“I need your word…” Shit. What the fuck is her name?
“Tara,” she snaps, finishing for me. “Fucking pig.”
“Tara, right. Sorry. What you heard it wasn’t what it sounded—”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she assures me, and my shoulders drop in relief at the same time her lip curls.
“But not for nothing,” she utters.
“Right, you want money.” I look her up and down and her face reddens, her fists clenched at her sides.
“You used me tonight, and now I want to fuck you where it will hurt. I want money, and that.”
She points over my shoulder, and I turn, my eyes locking on my mother’s piano. “No.”
Not a chance in hell.
“Oh, you think you have a say here? I could go to the police, you know.”
She’s brazen. I’ll give her that. Most women would be out of here running, but I’m pretty sure I have Satan’s spawn standing in front of me.
Lance told me to sort this, to make her go away quietly.
“How much? Name your price.”
I see the spark in her eye, and I curse myself.
“I will send a courier, Monday morning at nine. If the door isn’t unlocked, I will—and I mean it. I will go to the police.”
“You stupid bitch.”
She shrugs, smiling sweetly. “Stupid bitch…” She holds up one hand, then the other. “Murderer.”
“She took it? The piano?”
I clench my fists as I nod, feeling every bit of the anger I did that night.
“Who is Erin then? And Tara? It doesn’t make sense.” She turns away from me, running her hands through her hair.
“Will you come and sit down?” I ask.
She moves to stand in the space between the lounge and the dining area, her brows drawn together in question. “Where is it now?”
“In the west wing at Lowerwick.”
Her face drops, and I know that hurt her. “You never would have told me, would you? You were just going to hide it away and not tell me.”
“I didn’t want to.” My nostrils flare, not wanting to lay it all out but knowing I have to. “I thought if you knew, I thought you’d never be able to look at me again.”