CHAPTER NINE
MASON
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“I’ll be finished at seven,” I tell my driver as I climb out of the vehicle and head inside the building.
Monday morning seems to have rolled around fast, especially as I didn’t see Lexi over the weekend. It’s the first weekend we haven’t both attended the same social events.
I know mostly what she was up to.
The girls went out on Friday night, so the guys met at the Obsidian Club.
The rest of the weekend, I have no clue. Terrance has asked her out at least three times since I told him to stay off the executive floor. Doesn’t he know I can fucking hear him?
Then again, he doesn’t know my dick was inside her ten days ago.
A long ten days.
I fuck you in the office, and you think I’m after a ring. I’m not. For the record. I wanted to sleep with you, and so did you. The end.
I might have been wrong.
Or jumped to conclusions.
I know I am triggered by women who tick the boxes to meet my perceived idea of a gold digger. But when you’ve seen your buddy murdered...I feel it’s justified.
Make up your mind, Mason. You can’t have it both ways.
I stand by what I said. I was saving her from a venereal disease if she slept with Craig. And she can do better than Terrance.
Instead of thanking me for stopping her from making a bad life choice, she started up with this frog business and is now probably pursuing every man in New York City.
You think I wanted you because you’re rich.
Most women do.
Sorry, Prince Kingsley, but not this girl. You were just another frog to me.
Why aren’t I relieved?
Why didn’t I spread my legs, unzip my pants and let one of the club girls suck me off like I was offered? Twice.
Why didn’t I go home with one of my regulars? That makes them sound like prostitutes—they aren’t. Just beautiful women who frequent the club, and from time to time I fuck.
They come and go.
Instead, I sat there like an idiot with a hard cock watching the other guys have fun—Sebastian had an international meeting, so he wasn’t there—thinking about Lexi.
That damn woman.
Maybe I jumped the gun, but there’s nothing wrong with setting boundaries. If she thought us fucking was going to lead to a relationship, I’d be doing damage control big time.
She’s my PA.
My best friend’s bridesmaid.
Her being upset with me but still doing her job is likely the best outcome here.
I do miss her ridiculous flirting.
The way I’d have to kick her out of my office for offering me one of her services and wiggling her eyebrows.
Perhaps we can get back to that.
Sure, as if you’d be okay with that while her new boyfriend collects her after work and has all evening to explore her beautiful body.
Fuck that.
My mood darkens again.
“Morning, Mr. Kingsley,” Lexi’s chirpy voice greets me.
“Morning,” I reply as neutrally as possible, quickly glancing her way.
I stop.
“What happened?” My voice sounds much grittier than it needs to be.
“Oh.” Lexi lifts her hand, which is wrapped in a white bandage. “Nothing. I just hurt it.”
Jesus.
“Obviously, you hurt it. I asked what happened?” I take a step closer to the desk, and her eyes dip.
Shit.
Did someone hurt her?
I feel my arms tense, my chest swell.
“Lexi. Who—”
“Nothing. Forget it. It happened during my personal time, and it won’t interfere with my work.” Her eyes dart back, her cheeks warming.
Is she kidding right now?
Like we aren’t friends outside of work. I want to wring her damn neck. I’m not just some...
Yes, you are.
We glare at one another until I nod and take a step back. Then, continue to my office as I press my lips together and imagine who hurt her.
Does Emily know?
My imagination is going crazy.
Did someone...pleasure her and things go awry? Images of her tied up and some other guy having access to her body infuriate me.
I want to storm back out there.
What if it’s broken and she’s not had the medical treatment necessary?
Can she even afford it?
Fuck.
I sit at my desk and glance up when she appears in the doorway.
“The meeting this afternoon. Do you have the list of attendees?” Lexi asks.
I’ve kept this contract close to my chest because of the confidential nature of business. They’re a foreign organization, and there are only three people at Nexus Obsidian who know about it.
Ezra, my financial director, is one of them. His face appears in the doorway. “Good morning, Lexi, Mason.”
“Morning,” we both mumble, and he glances between us.
“Are we ready for this afternoon?” His attention focuses on me.
“Yes. Lexi, can you arrange some pastries and drinks? Actually, have one of the administrative girls downstairs do it.”
“I can—”
“No. You’ve injured yourself. I do not want you pouring hot coffee on anyone.”
I don’t want her putting stress on her wound.
She scoffs. “Fine.”
“What happened?” Ezra asks.
Without hesitation, she answers him. “I was performing and slipped.”
Her cheeks warm again, and she shrugs, looking like the old Lexi I know. Why the hell didn’t she just tell me that?
Wait...what does she mean by perform?
“Performing?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Her eyes darken, and she nods.
Jesus. Is she into BDSM?
“Are you an actor?” Ezra asks.
Suddenly she goes a little coy.
My brows lift as my suspicion grows. I cross my arms. “I didn’t know you were an actress?”
“It’s actor, Mason. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean you need to say actress,” Lexi emphasizes, and my other brow joins the party. “But no, I’m not an actor I was...singing.”
Oh. My. God.
Ezra gets excited. He once had a small part on Broadway. “What do you sing? I love this.”
Her cheeks deepen, and I fight my smile because I know exactly what happened over the weekend.
“You were drunk, singing karaoke, weren’t you?”
Angry eyes shoot my way.
“I wasn’t drunk. I’d had three...and a half...drinks. Maybe five. I was not drunk. Someone had forgotten to put tape on the wires, and I was doing a dance move. Long story short, I fell, and this hand” —Lexi holds it up— “Took all my weight.”
The room goes quiet.
Ezra tugs his bottom lip between his teeth to stop him from laughing. His dual Broadway dream with Lexi just died a quick death.
I lean back in my chair. “Well.” My laughter is forcing its way from my chest to my throat despite my efforts. “I’m sure your singing career will survive this small bump.”
Lexi twirls around and strides out with her middle finger in the air.
The good one.
I let my laughter out and enjoy every second of it.
“Doesn’t she buy your lunch?” Ezra laughs, walking inside my office further. “I’d be careful if I were you.”
Lexi will get over it.
After all, as she said, you are just another frog to me.
Clearly, she meant it.
The problem is, I have this overwhelming desire to chase after her, scoop her into my arms and kiss the sassy woman until she can barely breathe.
I’m going to apologize.
I want this woman, and I don’t exactly know why, or if I can control the triggers that stop me from trusting someone, but I’m going to try.
Lexi has blasted into my life, turned my emotions upside down, and I can’t seem to look away.
I’ll find the right time and words, then ask her out for dinner.
I smile.
“Sit. Let’s go over this afternoon.” I wave a hand to Ezra. “These guys are a tough client and an important one, so I want to make sure we nail this first face-to-face meeting.”
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LEXI
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THERE ARE A million ways I could have dealt with that better, but Mason’s cocky attitude drives me crazy.
I left my pain meds at home, so that’s making me crankier.
Reluctantly, I head downstairs to ask one of the other PAs to help out this afternoon, and Sarah agrees. Then return to my desk and book the catering.
Mason has back-to-back meetings after Ezra leaves, so I don’t see him for the rest of the morning.
I don’t need to.
The image of him walking in with his freshly washed hair, the ends still a little damp, a perfectly fitted gray suit and white shirt is likely burned into my memory for life.
I’d say he walks in here like he owns it, but he does. Strong muscular shoulders back, his chiseled jaw dropping panties in his wake.
It’s like what happened between us, never did. He just treats me like I’m his PA—which I am—but it’s irritating me.
I have sex dreams about Mason.
He tells me to book catering.
The only thing that’s going to solve this is going on a date. I pull out my phone and message Terrance.
Yes
I sigh as he responds right back, and we plan to meet up.
With Emily pregnant and getting tired easily, and Catherine a single mom, the only single friend I have in New York is Terri—who works for Sebastian at Obsidian Nexus Technologies.
She and her friends are a lot of fun. We ended up at a karaoke bar on Saturday night.
Ironically, after lying about it, I did meet a firefighter while we were out. He was the right person to have around when I went flying. Lifting me up off the floor, he put me and Terri in a cab and took us to the ER.
When we pulled up and Terri raced out to get a wheelchair, the guy, whose name is still on the tip of my lips, planted his mouth on mine and kissed me.
I was a little unprepared.
Then he handed me a piece of paper with his number on it.
“I have to get back to my friends, but call me,” Mr. Hottie Firefighter said.
I blinked a few times before realizing he was asking me to get out of the cab.
Wow.
I climbed out and plonked myself into the waiting wheelchair as he pulled the door closed, waving as he drove away.
“What the fuck?” Terri said, watching the vehicle depart.
“Yeah. Another dick.” I shook my head. “Let’s go. My wrist is killing me.”
So, yeah, one kiss.
I didn’t even kiss him back, and I bet he took someone else home that night and is still expecting me to call.
I’ve been in New York City for over a month and slept with the one man who called me—in as many words—a gold-digging whore.
A man who pays my salary and who I can’t tell to take a hike. A man who I like more than I should, and I don’t know what that says about me.
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AFTER LUNCH, WHICH I ate in the lunchroom, I race back to my apartment to get my pain medication. My wrist is aching.
I thought the meds were in my purse, but there they are, right there on the damn bench.
I slam the door behind me and trek back to the office. By the time I arrive, Mason’s meeting is taking place.
Good, I won’t have to see him for at least anoth—
When I round my desk, there sit the pastries and empty jugs. The trolley is still where I left it, waiting for Sarah to set it up and take into the meeting.
Oh, my fucking god!
A note sits on my keyboard. Sarah apologized; she had to go home with a tummy bug.
Shit, shit, shit.
I drop my purse and quickly unpack the pastries, putting them on plates. A race down the hall and fill up the coffee pot then curse my injury as I carry a heavy pot in each hand.
Loading up the trolley, I quickly head down the hall to the boardroom.
My wrist is throbbing.
Do not drop coffee on anyone.
I knock quietly, run a hand over my long dark hair and make sure the buttons on my blouse haven’t popped open and that my skirt is in place.
Then enter.
At least ten suited men sit around the large meeting room. They all glance up as I enter, and a cold, sickly feeling rushes through me.
Oh god.
No.
It can’t be.
I lock eyes with one of the men, and it’s not Mason.
Mr. Harrow.
What the hell is he doing in the United States?