Chapter 14

Mason

It’s been four days. Four days of getting my ass back in gear with my new merger. Four days I’ve resisted the temptation of logging into Daisy Motherfucking Ren’s site and requesting a private chat. Four days of jerking off to the memory of her taste on my tongue.

Four days of pure fucking hell.

My torture finally came to an end when I saw her sweet ass marching down the sidewalk and swinging open the café door with so much gusto, she knocked an outside chair over.

It’s like the universe smiled down on me with the worst timing possible. I’m on my way to the airport, running late because I was still catching up on paperwork, and then I derailed my plans, parked my car in the middle of the street because there were no empty spots, and gave Leah all the time I could spare before dashing out again, so I won’t miss my flight.

Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me? She’s just a woman.

A sweet, fun, breath of fresh air.

A gorgeous, wild, sexy creature.

The oasis to my suffering heat.

The other night was, hands down, the best sex of my life. I want more of it. More baths, more laughter, more orgasms, and foot massages. I want to spoil Leah, ravage her, and feed her from my lap. I want to take her places and buy her pretty things. Show her off. Get her off.

She’s nothing like the other women in my life. I don’t want to lose her yet.

Fuck, I don’t want to lose her at all.

I’m pussy whipped already. It’s not a good look for me.

I’m seriously debating calling off my meetings and staying behind just so I can convince her to give me a chance.

Wow, talk about uncharted territory. I’ve never had to persuade a woman in my life.

In my experience, it’s the woman who always chases after me. Once someone learns how filthy rich I am, they start kissing ass or sucking dick. I know when I’m being used, and I decide how long to let the bullshit game last. But Leah is different. She doesn’t seem impressed with my status. She’s making her own way in this world, and I love that for her.

The other night, I worshipped her body and took care of her afterwards. The bubble bath, the pampering—it was the greatest night I’ve had with anyone. Brushing Leah’s hair will forever be in my top five favorite experiences. Her long dirty blonde hair was so thick and soft, like fat silk ribbons I could run my fingers through. And she smelled so goddamn good. It was my shampoo, my soap, my clothes on her, yet Leah somehow morphed those fragrances and made them her own. Sweet and divine. Sugar and spice.

We talked for hours about all kinds of shit. I learned she has two sisters, her parents got divorced when she was fifteen, and she’s closest to her mom. Leah’s twenty-six, has a degree in business, and started cleaning houses while in college because she could pick her hours and work around her hectic class schedule. She ended up loving it enough to continue cleaning after college.

“I moved here and got in with a ritzy cleaning service. They pay a little better, but the clientele is easier to work with most of the time. Most of the houses I clean are a second or even third home to these clients, so I can bang through their houses in no time, and still charge the full amount,” she’d said.

My girl is a genius. She saw an opportunity and worked it in her favor.

But Leah could make a fuckload more money working for a large company or even for herself. When I brought that up, she said she’s got something in the works but wouldn’t share with me what that was. I respect that. I don’t tell people my business plans either until they’re already signed, sealed, and complete.

Leah also said she’d rather do what she loves and be poor than do something she hates and be rich.

I’ve never met someone who says shit like that and truly means it. Leah fucking means it.

When I brought up her side gig as a camgirl she’d said, “I like being watched.”

We have so much in common, it’s scary.

I asked if she’s worried about being recognized as Daisy Ren out in the wild. She told me, “I’m sometimes recognized when I’m all dolled up. Even though on camera, I’ve exaggerated my features or wear a mask, sometimes I’m still caught.” Then she laughed and said, “The first one to spot me was a woman at a concert. She and her boyfriend were next to me in the merch line. It was so awkward because they totally called me out on being Daisy Ren, like I was some kind of celebrity. It caught me so off guard I didn’t have the wits to lie and deny.”

When she laughed about it, something inside me growled with possessiveness.

I’ll never tell Leah to stop being a camgirl. If that’s what she likes to do, so be it. Besides, I like when people admire what’s mine. But there are some motherfuckers who can’t separate fantasy from reality and that could jeopardize her safety if she isn’t careful.

Before I went into a lecture about it, however, Leah started drilling me about my siblings and why I like baseball so much, and where I live since she knew this condo wasn’t my primary residence. I told her my company is named BanditFX after the beagle I had as a kid. She told me daisies were her favorite flower and that she grew up on Renfield drive, hence the name Daisy Ren. The night flew by and we crashed sometime around six in the morning.

Then she ghosted while I was in the shower.

I can’t say I blame her, but fuck if it didn’t hurt. For the rest of the day, I was in the worst mood and had to suffer through three online meetings and an annoying dinner with the “pretentious posse”—aptly named because it was my brother Jackson and his nosebleed buddy who thought they could weasel their way into my good graces.

They didn’t.

I’ve spent the majority of my days and nights thinking of Leah.

Leah, Leah, Leah . This woman is slowly taking over every brain cell I have.

As I drive away from the café, my stomach drops. Getting into a relationship with her will cause trouble—with my family, with her job, with the media. I should take her ghosting me as a sign. Maybe I freaked her out. Maybe I went overboard the other night, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to give her the best of me, even if it was just for one night.

Leah vanishing while I was in the shower was a smack in the face. A reminder that we aren’t on the same playing field. Hell, we aren’t even playing the same game if she can reject me so fast.

Pulling my cell out, I swipe up and open the app to see Daisy Ren’s face. She has a variety of gorgeous photos on the front page of her site. Her sweet smile is the same, there’s a subtle difference in the hollows of her pink cheeks. Her eyes are bright blue in most of these pics too, when I know their real color is cognac. Her lips are in a perpetual pout, which forces blood to flow straight to my dick.

My drive to the airport is both too fast and too slow. Smoggy air infiltrates my senses as I stuff my cell in my pocket. The riotous sound of heavy traffic, airplanes taking off, and people rushing around drowns the heavy thud of my heart.

Grabbing my carryon, I head inside when my cell vibrates. Foolishness allows me to hope that it’s Leah already.

Disappointment makes me numb when I see it’s not.

“If this is about giving Carmichael a chair on my board again, hang the fuck up, Jackson.”

“It’s about Nicole.”

Fuck my life . “What about her?”

“Are you sticking with your decision?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I just want to make sure I have damage control ready.”

“There was no damage done.”

“Tell that to Mom. She’s still furious, you know.”

“I don’t care.” Our mother is too controlling for her own good. Sometimes I wonder if she hadn’t put me on such a tight leash growing up, I might not have rebelled so hard. “Nicole is a nonissue.”

“She’s a huge issue, Mase. Her family runs the charity Mom’s gala is for. And if you’re coming to it too, it’ll be a problem before hors d’oeuvres are served.”

This is the opposite attitude Grace gave me about the whole thing. “Then I won’t come.” I didn’t want to go anyway, so this works out for everyone.

“Mom will be pissed if you don’t show.”

“Jackson, I’m a grown ass man.” Slipping past a cluster of kids with a harried set of parents, I step onto the escalator. “I don’t give a fuck who I disappoint.”

“You do this shit on purpose.”

No, I don’t. But I refuse to let anyone dictate my life.

“God, you’re such a selfish prick, Mason. Everything you do affects the family.” My heart clenches because he sounds like our mother and Jackson’s better than that, damnit. “This rebellious bullshit needs to end. Grow up.”

“This rebellious bullshit is what you and your dog, Carmichael, were foaming at the mouth to be part of the other night. What was it he said? Oh yeah, he’d fuck over half of New York if he got in BanditFX. The fucker bragged about how he would throw his mutuals under the bus and burn bridges to secure his seat, giving me the monopoly. And you sat next to him with a self-righteous smirk on your face the whole time.”

“So?”

“My company was built from the ground up not to be a slap in our family’s face, but to be my own goddamn path to greatness. That’s me being a man, not mommy’s baby boy. You want great things for yourself, bro? Fucking earn it like I did and stop riding coattails.”

“Earn it? You built BanditFX with your fucking trust fund, you cunt. You’re no better than me, even though you keep acting like you are.”

I didn’t use my trust fund to finance my company. My parents wouldn’t let me take out that much cash, no matter how many times I pleaded and showed them my proposals. Instead, I worked my ass off in college, made quick investments in stocks, traded, and diversified and took major risks until I had enough capital to start up my company by my damn self. My stellar networking skills and ethics got me the rest of the way. I’ve made millions without my family’s support—financial or otherwise.

As the black sheep in our family, I’m the disgrace while Jackson’s their favorite son who does the Finch name proud. Grace has even less freedom than me and my brother do when it comes to her life choices. Still, Jackson keeps making big mistakes and if I can help him, I will, regardless of if he deserves it or not.

I love him. I just don’t like him very much. “Watch yourself. Carmichael is not your friend. He’s going to drag you down with him and throw you under the bus if it’ll save his own ass or put him in the lead.”

“And Carmichael’s strategies have to do with Nicole coming to the gala…how?”

“That’s his cousin!”

“And she was your—”

I hang up and stuff my cell back in my pocket before he can finish that goddamn sentence.

Two hours later, I board my flight and take off for Cali. Once I’m in the air, I open a particular text thread and type, “You ever just want to get a new identity, pack your shit, and disappear forever?”

Their response comes through seconds later: Every damn day .

Resting my head against the window, I close my eyes. I hate my life. I hate my obligations. I hate that I’m leaving a city I love. And I especially hate that the first time I find a woman I really fucking like, she ghosts me and still I vie for her attention.

A flight attendant brings me a glass of champagne and offers an inviting smile. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Finch. Anything I can do to make your flight more enjoyable…” She licks her lips seductively, “just press the call button.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” That goes for the drink and whatever else she’s attempting to offer.

Only one woman occupies my thoughts and she’s a mile below me now, getting further and further away from my grip.