Chapter 9

Charlotte

I wakeup to knocking at my door. I open my eyes confused. It can’t be Mason, he always just walks in.

“Charlotte?” He calls from the other side. Apparently, he’s knocking now. Did agreeing to be his fuck buddy upgrade me to knocking status? I would have thought we’d actually have to do the deed for that kind of consideration.

“Yes?” I call back.

“The stylist will be here in an hour. Breakfast is nearly ready.”

“Be right there.” I push up out of bed and start toward the bathroom. I hear the door open to the bedroom and stop halfway there because I slept in his T-shirt again. I might be addicted.

It smells like him still or at least his laundry detergent, and the fabric is so soft. But more than either of those, I know it makes me feel closer to him. This shirt was on his body and now it’s on mine.

He sees me and stops, his eyes running up my body. “I did buy you night clothes.”

“I know. I unpacked them in the closet. Thank you.”

“And yet you continue to wear my shirt.”

I look down, my hands running over the fabric. “It’s very comfortable.”

“You cleaned up the kitchen. I have a woman who does that, you know.”

Did he? She must be very discreet. “I don’t like leaving messes.”

“I know,” he answers, moving closer. He’s in nothing but sweatpants again that sit low on his hips revealing a wealth of rippling abs. The sway of his body is even more fluidly beautiful in that animalistic way than when he’s wearing a suit. I lick my lips and then swallow down a lump.

He stops in front of me, close enough that I could run my hand over his rippling stomach. I have the same feeling that I might be willing to beg him if he’d just kiss me again like he did last night.

He collects up my hair in one hand, letting the strands slip though his fingers. “I hate the idea of changing the color, but we can go with a long bob and a sweep of side bangs to give you a different look.”

“Did you just say sweep of side bangs?” Who was this man?

He smiles. “You’ve got a great deal of natural grace and the sort of looks that make you easy to transform.”

I still can’t believe he is going to pass me off as his live-in girlfriend. Make it look like I couldn’t be that waitress in the alley because I’ve been here for some time, living with him. Sleeping with him… The very fiction of it has me heating in all the right places.

“Sounds good to me,” I answer.

His brow cocks as he twists the strands around his hand. “No complaint? Most women don’t like a man telling her what to do with her hair.”

“I trust your judgment.” I mean the words. More and more.

He pulls on my hair the slightest bit. More tension than anything else. It’s not hard and since he’s holding all the hair, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it feels a bit more like a massage. But my chin lifts as my head tips back at his silent command.

He’s so close that I can feel his heat and I spread my hands out on his stomach, loving the brush of his skin under my fingers, the ridges of his body.

He pulls a little harder, leaning down into my ear. “If we’re cutting most of this off, this is my only chance.”

“You’d better do it right, then.” I say, not afraid in the least. My whole life has been tinged with a lot of pain.

It would be nice to have that mixed with some pleasure. And having my hair pulled turns out to be one of those things that has a whole lot of good.

I know it’s so dominant, but in this, I trust Mason. He’d never push me past where I want. Hell, even last night he wouldn’t touch me because he could sense my fear. He’s a man of impeccable control, which means I can be whomever I want with this man and know that I am safe.

That is intoxicating.

He’s still pulling, my neck completely exposed, and his mouth finds that spot where my pulse thrums. I don’t even hesitate, I tilt my head to the side, making the hair pull harder but also giving him more access.

He makes the most satisfied sound as he kisses my skin, his tongue darting out to taste me.

Now I’m the one making sounds. A breathy little moan escapes my lips as I throb with a desire I never even dreamed existed inside of me. And all from a bit of hair pulling.

His other hand slides down my back, over my ass, giving it a generous squeeze before he’s reaching lower, his hand skimming down the back of my leg to hook behind my knee and place my leg around his waist.

When he does….

His hard-on presses right into my throbbing seam and I gasp at just how good it feels. His lips are climbing up my neck like he’s devouring my skin and I want him to kiss me so bad but also…I haven’t brushed my teeth.

He senses the moment I stiffen. It must have been near imperceptible but he’s easing back.

I already regret the thought. I didn’t want him to stop. But he’s backing away, loosening his grip on my hair.

My shoulders wilt as I pivot toward the bathroom but then I stop, twisting to look over my shoulder. “We could leave my hair a bit longer. Just below the shoulders.”

Mason stops too, straightening up to his full height as he looks down at me. “I didn’t scare you?”

I shake my head. “No. It was…” How do I tell him that he makes me want to push past every limit and try all the things because I know he’ll hold the line for me whenever I need to stop?

“So what changed? Why did you shrink away?”

My lips press together. “Morning breath,” I whisper.

For a moment his eyes widen and then he lets out a burst of laughter. “Take your shower, Charlotte. Breakfast will be waiting when you’re done.”

I rush into the bathroom, heading for the sink. Teeth first, shower second. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to join me.

I’ve crossed some threshold and I’m tired of waiting. But the stylist is coming so I shower instead and put on a simple dress that was in the bag of clothes. It’s got a bit of stretch so even though it’s fitted, it’s also exceptionally comfortable. It’s a pale pink that compliments my skin and the square neck shows a bit of cleavage. Putting on a pair of strappy sandals, I make my way out for breakfast. I don’t bother to style my hair into its normal loose waves that frame my face, since I’m about to have them cut off.

Mason is dressed too, a suit today and he looks like the Mason I first met and yet… I’ve seen behind that veneer.

He’s still perfectly intimidating but it’s the kind I can’t get enough of.

Fruit and yogurt are set out along with granola and I have a small bowl as Mason’s phone rings.

He pushes a few buttons on the keypad and the elevator light comes on.

“The stylist, Hanya, and her entourage is here,” he says with a smile, helping himself to his own breakfast.

“Entourage?” I repeat, gulping down a bite.

“I’ll work from the table for a bit and then I might leave you to it.”

I nod. “All right.” But I’m not super thrilled being left with a gaggle of women who know each other. I have a few friends here, mostly just Kim, because I’ve never meshed with the Vegas crowd.

“If she asks about us?”

“Like I said…we’ve been dating for six months, living together for two, and things are getting serious.”

“We’re really telling people that?”

He nods. “That’s right. If people start making inquiries, they’ll go to people like the stylist to collect information. We sell this today. You’re graduating and I’m giving you a makeover for a gift that spares no expense.”

Mentally, I trip on that last bit. I’ve been living on a very tight budget. Not that Mason can’t afford a haircut for me but still. I’m going to have to think very differently if I’m going to sell myself as the woman who landed the billionaire boyfriend.

“In that case…” I lean forward, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as I try her on, this new woman I’m to pretend to be. “I’ll tell her, he pulls my hair like no man I’ve ever met.”

“Charlotte,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I’m a man of incredible patience.”

“I know.”

“But you are pushing me to the brink.”

Was I? Good.

The elevator opens and Hanya walks in with an army of women behind her. She is the exact sort of woman I would have expected to see on Mason’s arm. Statuesque, blonde, and classically beautiful, her slender body is perfectly draped in her couture dress.

She smiles at me, a cold assessment, as racks of clothes get wheeled into the kitchen behind her. She claps her hands, her lips pulling into the slightest sneer. “We are going to have so much fun,” she declares in an accent I don’t recognize. It sounds fake. “We start with her hair, no? What are we thinking?”

Mason tells her his plan, Hanya nodding along as I’m pulled into a chair in the kitchen. “You agree?” Hanya asks as she breaks out her scissors. She hasn’t looked at me since that first false smile, but her gaze does keep sliding to Mason. I can actually see the hunger in her gaze.

I understand. He’s the sort of man most women would twist themselves into pretzels to have.

But at least for now…he’s mine.

“Not completely,” I answer in an equally conspiratorial whisper. “Leave enough length,” I lean in, “so that it can be pulled…” my gaze slides to Mason, my meaning absolutely clear, “back.”

Hanya gives me an appraising stare as she sizes me up, a little more appreciation in her eyes. “Very good.” She’s all business as she sprays my hair down and gets to work.

Two hours later, careful highlights and lowlights have been added to my hair, which now sits just below my shoulders, the cut angled to be longer in the front. There is a side sweep of bangs that somehow highlights my natural cheekbones and makes my eyes look even bigger.

And then Hanya starts on the makeup.

Mason interrupts to give me a very long kiss goodbye. It’s soft and tender and I sink into it, trying not to lose myself. I know he’s selling our story, and I appreciate the protection. But in this moment, what I’m grateful for, besides the kiss itself, is the look on Hanya’s face. She’s green with envy. “Have fun, sweetheart,” Mason says, stroking a thumb over my cheek. “Buy whatever you want for dresses but get a few for upcoming charity events. You know how those are.”

“Will do,” I toss back, wondering what he’s thinking. Why didn’t he prep me for needed formalwear? I’m way out of my depth with the request. I can’t even afford to shop at Forever 21.

But Hanya has been tamed and she starts pulling dresses from the racks that she thinks will work for this event or that one…

The morning and early afternoon pass in a flurry of trying on clothes, and dressing for every occasion. Leisure wear, out-to-dinner dresses, formal wear. The closet is full by the time the ladies leave, all babbling how generous Mason is to his girlfriend.

“You must come show us the ring,” Hanya says in her parting shot, looking me up and down. “I’m sure it’s coming any day and that it will be stunning.”

Did she mean it as an insult? The only emotion shining in her eyes is raw jealousy.

It’s late afternoon by the time they leave, and I sigh with relief. Tomorrow I’ll ask Mason about ordering in groceries so I can cook.

I love to be creative, and I also enjoy having something to do. With that in mind, I pick up my camera, sitting on the couch, careful not to wrinkle the buttery soft skirt I’m wearing, one of the many pieces I tried on from Hanya’s collection, and start scrolling through the pictures.

The phone Mason gave me rings, Mason’s name flashing on the screen. I pick it up. “Hello?”

“All done?”

“Yep. Hanya and her posse just left. They managed to fill that massive closet.”

He chuckles. “Not completely, I hope. We have another stop to make.”

“Where?” I breathe, trying to imagine what else I might need.

“The jewelry store,” he answers.

I stare at the screen, not answering. How did Hanya know? The light for the elevator comes on and my eyes dart to the doors. “Is that you?”

“It’s me. I’ll be right up.”