CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MASON
Ilook at myself in the mirror and adjust the tie of my suit, then I pick up my black messenger bag and head out of my apartment.
As I shut the door behind me, I glance over my shoulder and look at the ajar door of David’s place.
I hadn’t been home until this morning, and I checked into a motel just to be far away from him.
I can’t stand to look at him, can’t stand the fear that clutches my soul when he’s around me.
God, I can’t even stand the level of rage he makes me feel.
I hate him.
And being this close to him reminds me every single minute why he’s here.
I slide my keys into my pocket and walk toward the elevator, exhaling sharply as I enter the enclosed space.
Outside the building, my ride’s waiting on the other side of the street.
Halfway across the asphalt, my phone beeps with a message.
I stare at the screen, and a palpitating sigh drills out of my lungs.
I turn on my heel and stride toward the alley.
Looking over my shoulder, I slip into the space and meet Neo leaning against the wall in a leather jacket.
He crosses his arms on his chest, mirroring the smug look on his face.
“Good morning.”
My jaw hardens as I regard him with an irritated stare. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to pass a message along.”
“And?”
“Vincent’s coming to collect this weekend.
Make sure you have something concrete for him.
” He steps closer, and my body flinches on instinct, but that doesn’t stop him from laying his hand on my shoulder.
“This is an opportunity, Mason. Don’t fuck it up.
” He slaps my shoulder. He walks past me and leaves me in the quiet alley.
Throughout the drive to the company, my mind races with questions. What am I going to do? How do I get myself out of this mess? Is this ever going to be over? I have to deal with my uncle living so close to me. I also have to be in the perfect headspace, so I’ll get something worth Vincent’s time.
And I’d spent the entire weekend avoiding that apartment like the plague. Staying far away from him the same way I’ve steered clear for the past seven years, and somehow, he’s back again.
By the time I arrive at the office, I’m already exhausted.
Saint’s not here yet, so I take my time setting things up and hope he never makes it work.
Because I can’t bear to look him in the eyes and lie one more time.
As I settle in, the door clinks ahead of me, and Saint walks into the space.
It reminds me of the first day at the office, but it’s so much different now.
The cold and controlled look is gone, replaced by a simple smile that reaches his eyes.
It’s different.
And I hate that it is. I wish we hadn’t gotten trapped in that prison. All my feelings started the moment he held me through the pain, and every time I look at the scars on my skin it reminds me how much we went through together.
He doesn’t linger at the entrance. He nods at me and walks into his office.
I still remember his wishes on his birthday. No matter how hard I try to file away that vulnerable moment, I can’t. I lift my gaze to him and see him waving me over. As I step into the space, disoriented from my thoughts, I look at him and force a smile.
“Everything okay with you?” He asks as he removes his suit jacket.
“Yes, I’m fine. How are you? You know, Saturday night?”
He approaches me, and my heart beats ferociously against my chest, and my breathing triples. His brow lifts as he studies me. My throat works, and the moment he lays his hands on me, I retreat. His face scrunches up in confusion. “Mason, is everything okay?”
“I can’t do this.” I bite out the words. “I can’t do this with you. We are in the office. Our work relationship should come first.” I whisper. The tension between us thickens as I breathe heavily through the aching silence.
“Mason, I don’t understand. You said we’d meet on Monday.” He’s hurt. Of course, he is. I promised him I would be here for him, but I have to go back on my word.
“This is wrong. You’re my boss, and we shouldn’t have any form of sexual relationship.” I glance at him, voice trembling with regret.
“Fuck this!” He flips and turns on his heels. “I don’t know what happened over the weekend, but I was really excited to speak to you.”
My pulse hammers relentlessly against my neck. “I’m sorry for ruining your expectations, but we can’t keep lying to ourselves. This…”
He interrupts me. “Lying to ourselves? You know what, Mason, fuck this, and fuck you. I’m really so stupid for believing I could be better for you.” He laughs and drags his hands across his jaw. “Get out of my office!” He hisses.
I hate that I’m doing this.
I hate that my broken life gets in the way. I hate that I always ruin everything. I hate that I ever made it out of that prison alive.
I pick up my wretched self and return to my desk, head bowed in self-loathing and shame.
The entire day, I work on my computer with Saint on the other side of the office, taking phone calls.
I don’t know what to do or how to feel, so I bury myself in files and documents.
I follow him like a lost puppy to all the meetings we planned for the day, staying close, giving him what he wants.
And he doesn’t look at me or even acknowledge my presence.
He’s more focused on work, and I don’t blame him. I am too.
As I pack up my bag and leave the office, he stands by the window, staring at the city’s skyline.
I don’t know what to say or do, so I leave.
I leave the city behind and stop at the motel I have been staying in since the weekend.
I enter the room and look over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being followed before I shut the door.
The space is half-decent, and will do until I figure out how I’ll navigate this.
I toss my bag onto the round table and peel my clothes off my body, putting them in a pile beside the bed.
After showering, I pull out my backpack hidden under the bed and put on some fresh clothes. As I sit on the bed, I pull out my phone and look at my messages.
I never replied to Saint’s text on Saturday. My hand rests on the keyboard, and I remain on the bed, so uncertain about which choice to make.
How will he feel when I tell him I played a part in almost destroying his family? How do I explain to him that I don’t want any of this? Every choice I’ve made from the beginning wasn’t mine. That I was forced into this.
A man like him wouldn’t understand.
A man like him only knows loyalty and disloyalty.
And I have crossed that line so many times. He won’t forgive me. He can’t forgive me. Not when I’m a threat to everything he’s built.
A sinister chill snakes down my spine and settles in the pit of my stomach.
I look over my shoulder at the windows; the velvet white curtains move in the cool night breeze.
I turn off my screen and slide my phone into my pocket, stalking toward the window.
The night air dances over my skin, but it’s not enough to eliminate the feeling of dread ravaging my bones.
My fingers slide over the velvet white curtain, and heat drains from my face the moment my eyes focus on him.
My pulse turns violent, and I stagger backward, almost losing my balance.
A sharp wave of nausea twists around my stomach.
Fuck! He found me.
I go on my knees and pull my backpack from the bed. My hand finds the zipper, yanking the bag open. I circle the bed and pick up my clothes, shoving them into my bag. Then I zip it up and swing it over my shoulder. I pick up my work bag and slide my legs into my shoes, storming out of the room.
But it’s too late.
He stands in the hallway like a harbinger of death. My heartbeat staggers, and my chest aches with the anticipation of his brutal violence.
I retreat, each step hauntingly and humiliatingly draining.
“I just want to talk to you.”
“No, stay away from me.”
“You left the house. I was supposed to watch you.” His lips stretch into a sinister grin, and the air catches painfully in my throat. He barrels toward me, and I slip back into my room, slamming the door behind me. I retreat, breathing heavily, and my eyes remain on the handle.
Then his leg comes against the door. My body vibrates with panic.
He kicks the door again. I drop my bags and move toward the window, looking down at the mowed field that surrounds the building.
I climb onto the steel just as the door crashes open behind me, and I jump from the second floor, groaning as I land on both feet.
I don’t wait a second.
I get on my feet, adrenaline burning in my blood as I sprint into the forest. I don’t know where I’m going, but I keep running. I’d rather get lost than let him put his cursed hands on me ever again.
Branches claw at my clothes as I tear through the forest blindly, stumbling over roots hidden beneath the dark.
I pick myself up and keep running. My lungs burn with panic and ragged breaths.
Twigs snap violently beneath my feet, and sweat rolls down my temple, heart pounding against my chest. I don’t stop even when my muscles threaten to give out.
I keep running until I storm out onto the road and my legs give out on their own.
But I regain my footing and sprint down the tarred path.