Chapter 15

Charlotte

I lounge back against Mason,the giant tub easily holding us both. The warm water had been filled with Epsom salt and it is doing wonders to soothe my sore skin.

Mason washes my arms, my legs, my stomach, his hands stroking over my skin, but he’d been careful to keep his touches sweet and not sexual.

That didn’t stop me from feeling his erection pressed into my behind.

I reach back to skate my fingers along the engorged skin, but he stops me. “You need a break and I need to get to work.”

I sigh out my disappointment as he kisses me and then rises up from the bath, stepping out and into the shower as I watch from the tub, the sight of his hands skimming over his own skin, sending my pulse racing once again. The man is a god. I rest my face on the cool tile of the tub’s edge, wishing we could hide from the world and stay wrapped in this cocoon for a little while longer. Even if it’s mostly fiction, it’s been wonderful.

Mason turns off the shower, opening the glass door and wrapping a towel low on his hips, his chest and abs still on full display. I can’t get enough of looking at this man. Leaning over the tub, he kisses me again, my lips clinging to his as I close my eyes.

“Cold yet?” his fingers gently brush over my cheek.

“Almost.”

He reaches for my hand, clasping my fingers in his and then pulls me out, stepping back into his shower and turning it on.

A wave of emotion rises up in my chest as he closes the shower door, leaving me to my shower. I could get used to being cared for. How long had it been?

Dipping my head under the hot spray, I wash up and then wrap in a towel, heading out of Mason’s room and into my own.

As I step out into the hall, he calls from the kitchen. “I’ll be back tonight. Breakfast is already out.”

I pivot, stepping into the living room. “Bye.” The word comes out tight. Last night and this morning had been like a dream, and they’d left me feeling…vulnerable. Emotional.

Does he do this with all the women he’s dated? Because I’d made that comment about playing house…but this didn’t feel like play. It feels real and it’s messing with my head.

Our engagement is fake. It’s for my protection and his…enjoyment? That doesn’t feel quite right. I look down at the diamond sparkling on my finger, wondering if it holds any answers.

He comes to my side, giving me one more long kiss before he’s gone. I can’t see the elevator from here, the hallway blocking the doors, but I can hear it close, the soft whir of it carrying Mason down to the parking garage.

My head dips as I turn to my room, facing another day of being alone with little to do.

I take my time getting ready, testing all my new makeup and products, carefully blowing out my hair.

I look at the effect in my bathroom mirror, turning my head. I look like a billionaire’s fiancé, styled like this.

Going into my closet, I pick out a dress, and then put on my jewelry. One hour down, many more to go…

Grabbing my laptop, I decide to look through my pictures, check my email, and send a message to Kim. It’s been way too long since I reached out and she must be worried. We’re talk-every-day kind of friends.

But as I open my account, the first email that catches my attention is sent from UNLV. My heart leaps into my throat.

With a trembling hand, I click open the email to find my worst nightmare come to life. In completely plain terms, the email states that the university would allow me to walk during graduation, but if I wished to receive my degree, I’d have to repeat my visual arts class. It’s a requirement for the degree and my grade is failing.

My vision blurs as my hand comes to my mouth. I have so few things I really want to complete in my life…

I probably would have left Vegas after what had happened with the Kincaids two years ago. I’ve been fighting the urge to flee, but I’d held back because this was more important.

Mason alluded to the fact that I was a runner last night, and I’m not sure he’s wrong. After my mom left, I convinced my dad to move to a new town. I didn’t want to be known as the girl whose mom didn’t love her enough to stay.

In high school, I’d quit track when my coach pressed me to be tougher. I was a hard worker, but he seemed like the type who’d never be pleased. And after my dad’s death, it had taken everything in me not to leave Vegas. My degree had been the only thing holding me here.

And now…it’s slipping through my fingers.

Pushing up, I slam the laptop closed and begin to pace back and forth in my room. I pick up the phone Mason gave me, intent upon calling him, but then I drop it again.

He’s fighting with Leo, running a business, trying to neutralize a threat that already exists in my life.

How many problems can I drop at his door?

And as nice as it feels to have him take care of me, I did live life on my own for actual years. Besides, I ought to be careful not to take advantage of his strength. This is already short term, there is nothing like a needy woman to make a short-term thing shorter. While I don’t date, I’ve watched my roommates go through countless men and nothing ends a relationship faster than clingy or needy.

I look at the clock, noting that Professor Burke’s office hours start in fifteen minutes.

Drawing in a deep breath, I lift the phone up again, choosing the other number that’s been programmed in.

“Jackson?” I ask when someone picks up.

“It’s me,” Mason’s driver answers. “Did you need something?”

“A ride to UNLV.”

There is a pause. “A ride? For what?”

I nip at my lip. “Just something I need to finish up for the semester.” It’s the truth.

He pauses again, the line silent for several seconds before he seems to finally make a decision. “Come on down.”

Letting out a long breath of air, I step into the closet, picking out a pair of low-heel sandals before I head for the elevator.

During the ride down, I prepare what I’m going to say to Professor Burke. I’m not much for threatening or bluffing. But I know I did excellent work on that project. Do I take this to other administrators?

I could use Mason’s name, but if Mason is trying to pass me off as his long-term girlfriend turned fiancé and not the waitressing college student, that seems unwise.

I have another niggle of doubt as I step out of the elevator. Does this impact Mason’s plan? Should I wait for him?

What if he tells me that in the grand scheme of problems, failing a class falls into the worry-about-that-problem-later category? That it’s not important.

I don’t want to worry later. This is the entire reason I’m still here, and to me, this might be more important than any of them. Graduating is a do-before-I-die kind of item.

With that in mind, I square my shoulders as the doors open and I step out into the garage.

Vegas is already heating up for the day, the warmth of the late morning making me instantly sticky. But the car is running, the air conditioning on, as Jackson opens the rear door for me, his kind smile firmly in place.

I slide into the cool car, trying to come up with a plan. I’ll tell the truth. My work this semester has been worthy of passing the class. If he doesn’t give me the grade I deserve, I’ll tell everyone about his proposition, present my work, and ask him to justify my suddenly failing grades. It’s the best I’ve got.

Wiping my palms on my dress, I try to keep my breathing even, but my hands clench and unclench in my lap as the car pulls out of the lot.

“Everything all right?” Jackson asks, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview.

“Trouble with one of my classes,” I answer, staring out the window as I mentally rehearse again. “I’m going to get it straightened out.”

“Not Professor Burke?”

“What?” That pulls me from my thoughts, my brow crinkling. Had I mentioned my professor’s name?

“You let me know if you need any help,” he says. “I don’t look it now, but I used to be pretty tough.”

I smile, relaxing into my seat. “Thank you, Jackson. That really does make me feel better.”

He gives a nod and then silence falls between us while he navigates Vegas traffic. It takes less than fifteen minutes before he turns the car onto the campus, parking near the Building of the Arts.

I step out of the car, taking one last fortifying breath as Jackson falls into step next to me, typing on his phone.

“You don’t have to come inside with me,” I start, but he doesn’t even look up.

Instead, he keeps typing. “I definitely do. Mason would have my hide if I let you out of my sight.”

I wince, wondering once again if this is a mistake. Maybe I should have spoken with Mason first. But I’m here now and I’m going to use my newfound confidence to try and solve this problem myself.

Making my way inside, the cool halls have that familiar smell that calms my nerves. I loved this place until this semester. It’s been my home and I draw some strength from that.

I round the corner for Professor Burke’s office, the door is closed. I can just hear voices coming from inside. He’s likely meeting with another student.

I wait for nearly ten minutes, fidgeting as Jackson stands stoically next to me, periodically checking his phone. A woman my age finally exits the small room, her eyes welling with tears. Am I not the only one Burke is manipulating?

I give her a sympathetic look before I turn toward the open door, drawing a deep breath, and knocking. “Professor Burke?”

His gaze lifts to mine. It’s obvious that Burke used to be a handsome man. He still has nice eyes, a warm smile. But his hair is thinning as his waistline has expanded. It’s not a big deal, everyone gets older but the fact that he’s still trying to sleep with women in their early twenties is just creepy.

“Close the door, Charlotte.”

I do as he commands, drawing in a deep breath through my nose to calm my nerves before I turn back to him.

He looks me up and down, his lip curling with a bit of disdain. “Glammed up, I see.”

I touch my hair, that feeling that I’ve made a mistake hitting me in the chest again. I look like Mason’s fiancé today, not like my college student self. I should have put my hair in a scrubby ponytail, worn my old clothes.

Burke has noticed the change and alarm bells are already pinging in my head. If Mason were confronting someone, he would have considered every detail. I’ve barely begun, and I already feel like a fool.

“I want to talk to you about my failing grade.”

“What about it?”

“I deserve to pass your class.”

He sneers at me, leaning over his desk. “That’s the thing about being the student, Charlotte. You don’t get to pick your grades.”

“I completed the assignments, meeting all criteria, and turned them in on time.”

“Says you.”

“You’re right. I do say. In fact, I have a lot of things to say,” I answer back, my voice dropping like Mason’s does when he’s mad. One of the many things that man does exceptionally well. He intimidates with his voice alone.

Burke stands and starts coming around his desk. “Like what?”

“I wonder what the department chair will think when I present the work and the dates,” I say, my fists clenching. I refuse to take a step back. “I wonder what she’ll think when she hears about your proposition—” But I don’t get any more words out before his hand wraps around my arm like a band of steel.

He’s going to leave bruises, I think, as he tugs me forward, pinning me between himself and the desk.

I cry out, turning my head to the side, as he leans close, his hot mouth comes to my cheek. “You know what, Charlotte. You’re right. I’ve been hasty. I’m going to pass you. But first…” And then he leans back, just long enough to spin me around so that my back is to his front. It only takes a second, and I’m disoriented, as he pins me to the desk again, the hard wood of his desktop pressing into the front of my legs.

I try to fight, but my hands lash out uselessly. I had maybe a second to escape, a moment that I missed, and now I’m trapped and weaker than him.

Grabbing the back of my head, he pushes my torso down on his desk. I finally grab his wrist and dig my nails in to loosen his grip, but he’s too strong.

He”s yanking at my hair and I’m clawing and scratching, my cry surely alerting someone. Jackson is out there. If I could just…

That’s the moment the door bursts open. I try to lift my head, a chest comes into view but it doesn’t belong to Jackson.

Instead, Mason fills the opening. Burke startles, partially releasing me and I lift my chin to meet Mason’s gaze. He stares back, his cold rage written on every line of his face. I gasp to see him, my eyes wide.

With a snarl, he closes the distance between us. Then he rears his hand back to box Professor Burke across the ear.

I suppress a wild giggle, half born of fear and half relief that Mason smacked my professor like an errant child.

Burke goes crashing to the side and just like that, I’m free. I stand spinning, my breath gasping from my lungs, but Mason has not stopped in front of me.

Instead, he’s standing over Professor Burke. Grabbing him by the arm, he picks him up like he’s a rag doll, even though Professor Burke is a full-grown man and a somewhat heavy one at that.

For Professor Burke’s part, the fear that had surely lit my eyes a few moments ago now fills his…

My hands clasp over my mouth, as I watch the turn of events unfold. It’s almost odd that my professor, who dominated me just moments ago, is now at Mason’s mercy.

Mason drops his face to Professor Burkes, his voice deadly calm. “Do you want to explain to me why you had your hands on my wife?”

The word wife slices through me. And apparently it does Professor Burke too. “Wife? I didn’t know. I thought…”

“You thought she was alone and that you could take advantage.” Mason shakes him with every word, and I swear I hear Burke’s teeth rattle. “Jackson,” Mason calls. “Did you see what happened?”

“I saw it all,” Jackson replies from the doorway, but I don’t look at him. I’m completely focused on Mason.

His lip curls. “That’s a shame for you, professor. Witnesses are messy for naughty teachers who could lose their positions.”

Burke goes completely pale.

“Obviously, my wife is going to pass your class.”

“Y-y-yes,” Burke answers as quickly as he can get the word out.

“The question is…” Mason’s voice has taken on that tone I remember from years ago. The same one I’d gotten that first night in the conference room. Cold. Deadly. “Which form of punishment do you prefer?”

“Punishment…” Burke croaks.

“We can go through the proper channels,” Mason’s voice has dropped just above a whisper. “Where I have you fired, stripped of your position, and banned from teaching anywhere ever again. Or…” Mason’s face is only an inch from Burke’s. “You can take your beating like a man.”

The smell of urine fills the office and I know Professor Burke has pissed himself. My nose wrinkles.

“Wait out in the hall, sweetheart,” Mason says to me, speaking to me for the first time since he barged into the room. “Better yet, take her to my car, Jackson.”

I don’t argue as I leave the office, allowing Jackson to escort me down the hall. But even through the closed door, I hear a crack followed by the sound of a grown man crying.

A moment’s satisfaction pulses through me, until I realize…I’m not without guilt today either.

Mason is surely going to punish me too.