CHAPTER SIX
MASON
Two years ago, I was on the run from a past I thought would never catch up to me. From memories that had festered in my mind even when I had severed the root of my problems.
A part of me believed I was free.
I was wrong.
I might never know freedom.
Especially since the powerful men around me see me just as an object they can dress up and throw into the middle of a war for power and control.
I don’t have a say.
I have to play by the rules for as long as it takes.
I have to be their pawn.
As long as it keeps me alive.
It’s been a week since I met Saint at the Red Horn club.
I still carry the memory of that night. I don’t think I’d ever forget what I felt.
As much as he doesn’t know anything, I wouldn’t put it past him that if he did, he’ll simply see me as a threat to his family.
Vincent made sure he never left out the part where he told me what kind of man he is and what he does to those who cross him.
The things he will do to me if he finds out I’m a mole working to obliterate everything he’s built.
It’s my first day working at Seven Stone Finance, and I have to look impressionable. Like I belong. Just as Vincent had asked, I have the entire week to give him something because he’ll come to collect.
I study myself in the mirror. A black suit hugs my athletic frame. Thick, tight spiral-shaped coils of black hair sit on my head. I square my shoulders and let out an exhale to steady myself.
I know exactly what I’m walking into, and I have no choice but to comply.
It’s dangerous.
This city itself is not for the faint of heart. I have to pretend to be brave to get what Vincent wants. To get what I need.
I pick up my black leather messenger bag from the table and check myself one more time. I make a mental note of how I will spend my day. It’s simple.
Get to work. Come home by four-thirty. Report to Godfather.
All I have to do is stick to his explicit instructions.
I head out of the apartment, taking the elevator and heading downstairs. Outside, my driver’s already waiting behind the wheel of his taxi. I give him a firm nod and get in, and he peels out of the driveway.
The city moves around me in a blur, neon fading into the daylight, traffic humming as cars honk at red lights.
Tall skyscrapers cut into the sky in hard-edged shapes, glass and steel reflecting a world that screams business and chaotic secrets.
When I get out of the taxi in front of the headquarters of Seven Stone Finance, one of the largest buildings in the city, a foreboding feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
Seven Stone, thirty-five stories of mirrored glass and silver steel, with glass panels that reflect the sunlight.
Passing cars smudge in silver streaks, and sunlight bounces off the surface, leaving a glow.
From the outside, the place reflects luxury and power.
I follow through the vast, frameless revolving door and step into the expanded lobby, checking in with security.
“I’m a new hire.” I smile at the middle-aged, gray-haired man.
“Welcome to Seven Stone.” He grins as I inspect the lobby.
The air smells of expensive citrus and cedar, filtered through a ventilation system.
I had applied for the position of Finance Manager, just as Vincent instructed. The response in my mailbox wasn’t exactly a formal offer, but an invitation to show up on Monday.
I move to the seating area and settle down, eyes scanning through the gray-painted walls and expensive furnishing. I sit and wait, looking at my wristwatch every three seconds and tapping my feet on the polished marble floor.
“Mason Cole?” A man approaches me, hands extended in a firm grip. I take his hand and smile, and he returns it with a more confident grin.
“Sir.”
“I’m your supervisor. I know my email was vague,” he leads me toward the elevator at the far end of the lobby. “At that time there wasn’t an open position, but you are in luck. We just let go of the CFO’s personal assistant.”
“Personal assistant?” I blink.
The doors slide open, and we step into the enclosed space together.
His brows arch. “Is there a problem?”
I hesitate weighing the options. Who was I kidding? Maybe this is exactly where they wanted me.
“No.”
He nods only once. “You’ll be working directly with the Chief Financial Officer. That’s a golden opportunity if you ask me.” He grins cockily, eyes moving over me in a quiet assessment.
“Yes, I hope.” I say smoothly.
“You’re authorized on floors one through twelve. Your office is on the twelfth floor.” He breezes through the tour as he expects me to find my way around the place.
I am not worried, though. There is no way I can get lost here.
We step into the hallway on the seventh floor, flanked by glass offices, and he leads me down the short passage.
Ahead of us, tinted glass walls enclose two offices.
We step through the glass door and the supervisor smiles at me.
In the corner, there’s a smaller office, and the other bigger office encompasses the rest of the space.
“That is the boss’s office.” The supervisor points at the glass door entrance. “This is yours. It’s in proximity because he will need you close.” He explains as he leads me into the office.
The walls are made entirely of glass, offering a view of the city.
The desk is solid onyx, carved from a single piece of stone.
Behind the desk, shelves of leather-bound ledgers and curated art pieces fill the room.
Two snakes curling around each other, carved from bronze, rest on the surface.
A high-backed black leather chair sits behind the desk, with warm lighting in the room.
The fractured gold of the morning sun spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, setting the polished marble floor in a glow.
“He will be here in fifteen minutes, so you can set up in your office and wait.” He says as we exit the boss’s office.
I let the weight of this new job lift from my shoulder, a small knot unfurling from the pit of my stomach. I have to remind myself that even though I want to survive, I can’t lose my life. I have to be stronger. Think smarter.
My desk faces directly toward Saint’s office.
A computer and a printer sit on the dark brown center table made from oak with its accessories.
There’s also a shelf of files arranged with precision on the left wall.
The space sets the tone that unwraps the unease on my shoulders.
Maybe I’ll enjoy working here. Who knows?
“You’ll find your key card and supplies in the drawer.” He goes on with his ramblings while I assess the office space.
“Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome. If you need anything, email me, and get acquainted with your co-workers.” He concludes with a fake smile as he turns on his heel and walks away.
Exhaling deeply, I take bold steps to my table and place my bag on it with a smile. I let the world I just entered sink in.
The luxury. The power that you can smell from a distance. The deception.
I take my time, rummaging through my desk whilst I put my bag on the side of the table. There’s a box of printing paper, pens, notepads, highlighters, staplers, and paper clips. The door behind me clinks, and I look over my shoulder.
It is him.
Black suit, broad shoulders, tall and built with a chest and back coiled like steel, dark skin with red undertones, and a clean low taper buzz cut fade.
He walks with the confidence of a man who owns the world.
In this light, he’s different. Not the man who had me under him a week ago.
Not the man who couldn’t bear looking me in the eye while he fucked me.
He’s not much different from the man whom I met that night.
The cold expression.
The discipline. It’s all here, packaged into a black suit.
Our eyes collide, and his gait stutters. A subtle hitch, so slight that I almost didn’t even notice. I try to steady my breathing. I wore a mask that night. There’s no way he’d recognize me. That night isn’t happening again. Not while we are in the office, anyway.
His brows lift, and he watches me with controlled intention.
The air feels heavier, charged and marked with the memory of that night.
His cologne floods my senses.
Sandalwood and Bergamot.
Before the situation gets too awkward, I approach him and extend my hand with a full smile. “Hello, sir. I’m your new personal assistant, Mason.”
He takes my hand and shakes it vigorously, and I see the subtle way his brows lift. His gaze lingers a beat too long, and his eyes narrow faintly. Does he recognize me? There’s nothing on me that could point back to that night. Except the scar on my stomach and the rose tattoo on my ass.
“Have we met before?”
There. That’s the question I dread.
“No, sir.”
He nods only once and takes another look at me. “Nice to meet you, Mason.” He heads into the office and shuts the door behind him.
I walk to my seat as my stomach knots. I need to sit and ground this pressure.
As I settle down, I look up and see his sharp gaze is in my direction. He breaks eye contact, placing his suit jacket around his chair. I exhale deeply as I turn on my computer to start the day.
Another voice breaks through the deafening silence, and my body jerks as I look up at a different man walking toward me with a friendly smile.
I’m so lost that I didn’t even know someone was approaching my table.
“You must be the new guy. Welcome to Seven Stone.” He extends his hand, and I shake it with a smile, getting to my feet.
I hope the look on my face does not show unrest.
“I’m Kurt.”
“Mason. Nice to meet you.”
“Good to have fresh eyes around here. If you have any problems, I mean, any problems at all, my office is just before the elevator.”
“Of course, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mason.” He punctuates, winking and making me force a giggle. “Um, just in case you are free Wednesday night. The guys hang out together at The Sovereign.”
“The Sovereign?” I squint my eyes at him. “Is it a membership thing?”
“You have never heard of that before.” He leans closer. “Where are you from?”
“Earth.” I retort, and he gives me a look. “I just moved to Kingston city because of the job.”
“Hmm.” He nods. “If you need directions, I’m always here.”
“No, thank you.” I disagree.
“Mason. In my office now!” Saint’s voice slices through our conversation like a knife. I swallow and look at him through the glass enclosure, except he’s not looking at me. A part of me must have forgotten that this was part of the job.
Kurt leans in, “You got to answer the boss. PS, he doesn’t tolerate tardiness.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” I murmur and head into his office, bracing myself for the interaction.