Chapter 11

Charlotte

I slideinto the limo expecting the rings to look duller in this light. They don’t.

The diamonds are now nestled on each lobe and the aquamarine solitaire necklace is on my neck. No numbers were discussed, and I have no idea how much money Mason just spent.

When he mentioned me pretending to be his live-in girlfriend to create an alibi, I had no idea I’d be racking up this much debt.

The two thousand dollars I have stuffed in my closet at his apartment seems rather paltry for repayment.

Then again, Mason has already named a price…

“I want a picture of your hand,” Mason sits next to me, his arm going around the back of the seat, his other hand wrapping about mine as he holds up our joined hands, the pink diamond catching fire in the sunlight.

We’re palm to palm, but the back of my hand is facing us. I’m nestled into his front as I pick up the camera from where I left it on the bench. Then I snap a photo of his hand holding mine, the ring on full display.

I take the shot, showing him the digital screen.

“Where do you print these?” he asks.

My brows lift as I look back over my shoulder at him. “I don’t think we’re going to CVS.”

“No.”

“I have access to a high-quality printer at school.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He picks up his phone, his arm still around me, my body still resting against his. I lean back, used to him spending his car time conducting business on his phone so I use my time to study the ring. The one I shouldn’t love…

I snap another picture as the car leaves the alley and the light changes. Mason’s eyes flash to the screen. “Better.”

I nod, noticing the way the light is now slashing across his hand holding his phone. It’s an everyday occurrence made beautiful by light, and I take the picture without thinking, and then another of his leather shoes, which somehow embody this rich, successful, dominant man.

He says nothing, surely noting the pictures as they flash on my screen. It’s not lost on me that I seem to only take pictures of Mason these days. Perhaps he’s the only subject to which I have access.

Or maybe, I’m obsessed.

He’s still working on his phone, so I switch the camera to my other hand, and place my right on his dark trousers, my skin looking even paler against the dark fabric, the sapphire ring winking up at me as I snap another.

“Let me see,” he rumbles and I show him, my fingers flexing against the muscles of his thigh.

He feels so good. Our eyes meet, my lips parting. I can’t hide that I want more of him, that I want to feel that power he so effortlessly displays.

But the limo stops.

I look up, no idea where we are.

“Hungry?” he asks as the door opens.

We are once again entering through a back door into a private room where food has already been laid out for us.

It’s American cuisine but it’s ridiculously nice cuts of beef and fish in delicate sauces. We sit, a server presenting Mason with a bottle of champagne.

He nods and the bottle is opened, two glasses of sparkling pale gold liquid fills our glasses.

My brows lift but I say nothing until we are alone. “Mason…” I start my tone clearly letting him know that I’m looking for answers.

He takes a sip of champagne. “Not here.”

“All right.” I take a sip too and then help myself to a piece of fish. I trust him enough to know that if he says private affairs shouldn’t be discussed, they shouldn’t.

His hand slides across the table, taking mine. He turns it to study the pink diamond again. If I’m not mistaken, he’s attached to the ring too.

But we don’t say much as we quietly eat, our hands joined the entire meal. Is it for the staff? Do we appear the picture of a newly engaged couple? Should I discuss wedding plans? That’s just too much for me…

It’s the best meal I’ve had in years. Maybe ever. I like comfortable silences and this feels like one.

When the meal is done, Mason helps me from my chair, his arm around me as we make our way back out to the waiting limo.

When we climb in, he’s right next to me again. “You didn’t question me when I asked you not to speak.”

I twist to face him. “In that situation, I’m well aware you know best.”

He looks at me for a moment before he captures my mouth with his own. For a second, the kiss is tender, but in a blink, it’s hungry, our tongues tangling together as I land in Mason’s lap. I hadn’t even noticed his hands had come to my hips until I’m settled in the cradle of his.

I press to his front, my breasts crush against his chest, my arms tangle about his neck.

He runs his hands from my hips, up my back and then down again, my body hums at all the contact.

The kiss is so intense, when he nips at my tongue with his teeth, it only makes me hotter.

His hand slides up my leg, under my skirt and over my thigh, my sex throbbing with the need for him to touch me. I’m ready to beg.

I don’t even notice the limo has stopped until Mason pulls away and sets me to the side. Then, he opens the door. Usually, it’s the driver. My head pops up as I look around in question. “Where’d we lose Jackson?”

But Mason only chuckles. “He knows when to be discreet.”

That’s a detail that bothers me. I’m not the first woman to arrive at this penthouse in the back of Mason’s limo.

And surely, I won’t be the last.

Have other girls tried to give every part of themselves to this man?

Likely yes.

I try not to think about it as he pulls me into the elevator, but I clearly stiffen and he feels that.

“Nervous, sweetheart?” He pulls me against him, his hand cradling the back of my head. It’s romantic the way he’s comforting me, and I relax, closing my eyes remembering that I want whatever Mason gives for as long as he is willing to give it.

This was never going to be permanent, and I should know better than to even wish.

“No,” I answer, shaking my head. “I’m not. Today has just been…” A revelation? Of what it might feel like if this man loved me?

It’s a fantasy but one I just want to sink into and pretend without interruption.

I know he wants me. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t, and clearly he’s committed to holding up his end of the bargain. Of keeping me safe.

But where that ends and any sort of real affection begins, I have no idea.

I turn my brain off, or I try. His fingers are skimming down my spine. This is not teeth and tongues, this touch is silk and lace and I close my eyes and wrap myself in the wish of his gentle fingers.

If I concentrate, I can believe.

My forehead drops to his shoulder, my hands resting on his biceps as I draw in a deep cleansing breath of air.

One of his hands splays out on the small of my back, spanning from one side to the other as the other slides to my hip. But he’s not pulling me tight against him. Instead, he’s cradling me.

Like he knows I need some comfort. He probably does know. Mason’s always been hyperaware of small changes in me, probably in others too. It must make him a lethal negotiator.

The elevator stops and the doors swish open but I’m not sure I want to move. I’d like to freeze this moment.

He brushes a kiss on the side of my head, murmuring some small word of comfort. But a second later, he freezes, going granite hard under my hands.

“Well, isn’t this just fucking cozy.”

Leo. It’s been two years, but I recognize the deep tenor of his voice, so much like Mason’s. Unlike Mason, there is no filter on his anger. I can feel the simmer of his temper boiling just under the surface.

It’s Mason’s control that makes me feel safe and I press deeper into him now. He gives me a quick squeeze.

The gesture is so fast, I might have missed it, before he’s tucking me behind him, walking into his apartment. “I don’t let myself into your place without permission.”

Leo’s lip curls. “This is what you might call a special circumstance.”

“Why?”

“Because. My brother has decided to fuck me over.”

I gasp, shrinking further behind Mason. He gives me a quick look over his shoulder and then reaches back for me, pulling me forward to his side. “Charlotte, go to your room.”

“Is she a naughty teenager?” Leo asks but his eyes are all over me and I know he’s taking in every detail. The hair, the skirt, the jewelry. “I take it back. Not a teen at all. You’ve turned her into a socialite.” Then his lip curls into a sneer. “Is she wearing a fucking engagement ring?”

“My plan,” Mason’s starts, his voice barely containing his fury. “Is to play her off as a long-term part of my life, which would obviously mean she was not the cocktail waitress who witnessed a murder.”

I’m looking between them, trying to decide what to do. I trust Mason and usually I follow his directives without question but to get to my room, I have to pass Leo.

Leo snorts. “That’s a stupid fucking plan.”

Mason looks at me. “Go.”

I start to edge around Leo but I’m just passing him when he lunges out and grabs my wrist, pulling me toward him. “You chose the wrong brother,” he snarls in my face. “I wouldn’t pussy foot around with tunnels and haircuts. I would create a bloodbath to keep you safe.”

Mason is next to us in a second, his fingers wrapping around Leo’s wrist the three of us locked in an odd triangle. “Let. Her. Go.”

“When did you become her keeper?” Leo barks back. “Come to think of it, how did Roman just happen to come to her rescue?”

I blink, how did that question not occur to me?

Mason bares his teeth. “I’m not going to say it again.”

Leo squeezes my wrist and I cry out. Mason’s face is in his face, his teeth bared, before Leo finally lets me go. I stumble back and then spin, dashing into my room. I don’t stop until I reach the bathroom and then I slam the door shut, locking it behind me.