by Nina Levine
Her eyes widen. “Was this because of him?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh God.” She reaches out to touch my face before I can stop her.
I remove her hand even though I fucking like it there. “You don’t know what he’s into?”
“No. I have no idea.”
I didn’t expect her to, and I believe her. “You need to be careful, Chelsea. Watch your back at all times.”
Surprise flashes in those beautiful eyes of hers and she moves closer to me. “Careful, Mason, or I’ll start thinking you don’t really hate me.”
Fuck, her scent hits me; her voice hits me; everything fucking hits me. My arm goes around her waist and I move her back against the wall between the two lifts before bringing my mouth to hers. I kiss her as I grind myself against her, and when her leg coils around mine, I fucking grip it and hold it there.
It fucking belongs there.
It doesn’t fucking belong around Joe Hearst.
Sliding my hand along her leg, I reach under her skirt and bring my hand around to her cunt. As I push two fingers inside, I lift my mouth and growl, “I need to taste you.”
She wants this as much as I do, but she shakes her head and tries to push me away. “Joe’s on his way up.”
That just pisses me off. Gripping her waist harder, I reach deeper inside her and rasp, “I don’t fucking care.”
She puts her hands to my chest and pushes me away. Her eyes are wide with worry. “He’ll be here any minute. And besides, we’re in the fucking corridor for anyone to see.”
“And. I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.” With that, I drop to my knees, lift her skirt, tear her panties off, and bring my mouth to her cunt. The moan that escapes her lips as my tongue enters her causes me to lose my fucking mind.
Those moans of hers should all be mine, and the fact they aren’t drives me insane.
Fucking. Insane.
I inhale her scent deeply as I fuck her with my tongue. She tries to resist me—I feel that in the way she tenses up—but it doesn’t take her long to submit. And it doesn’t fucking take her long to come.
She might have tried to push me away, but she’s fucking into this. She’s all frantic fingers in my hair and foot on my shoulder while pressing herself against my face like she can’t fucking get enough of me.
When I’m done, I stand and wipe her from my beard while she straightens her skirt. The lift indicates that Hearst is two levels away. I fucking wish he’d stepped out of the lift while my tongue was buried the fuck inside her.
“Where’s my underwear?” she says, sounding panicked and looking just as panicked.
I slip her panties inside my suit, pocketing them.
She makes pissed-off eyes at me. “Mason,” she hisses. “I need them.”
The lift reaches the level below ours.
“You don’t fucking need them.”
Still with the pissed-off eyes. “You are an asshole.”
I press myself against her, bringing my hands to her face. “Yeah, baby, I fucking am.” I kiss her, letting her taste herself until she pushes me away.
When the lift opens, she’s doing her best to appear calm and like she hasn’t just had my tongue and fingers inside her. Hearst glances between the two of us, his eyes narrowing with distrust.
Yeah, motherfucker, you should be looking at us like that.
Fuck, and now I’m fucking pissed off that he gets to put his hands on her, and guide her into the lift, and take her downstairs.
I might have just made her come, but he’s the one with her on his fucking arm.
She’s his, and I need to fucking remember that.
22
Chelsea
“I like this style of dress on you,” Joe says at dinner on Sunday. It’s our last function for the week. Since I started working on our relationship two days ago, the tension between us has eased and Joe acts much more civilly to me. Still, it’s not real; it’s him getting what he wants and me doing all the submitting. But I go along with it because it’s what I’m after.
I smile. “Thank you.” God, this week can’t come to an end fast enough.
He spreads his arm across the back of my chair and leans closer to me. “I have to spend some time tonight talking with Rob Burke. We could be gone for an hour or so. I need you to spend the time while I’m gone talking with his wife, getting her on side.”
My eyes lock with Mason’s across the room as I listen to my husband. I catch the way he works his jaw before looking away. I hate that he has to watch this.
Turning to Joe, I nod. “Is there anything in particular you want me to say to her?”
He smiles. It’s only a flash of one, but it’s one, and it’s something I don’t make him do often, if at all. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and I want to fucking stab him in the eyes for being so fucking condescending. He then proceeds to give me a rundown of exactly what he wants me to say to her.
I sip some of my wine as I watch him exit the room with Rob Burke. I then stand and make my way over to Rob’s wife, where I spend half an hour talking to her about all the things Joe told me to. I’d make an amazing politician with all the spin that comes out of my mouth. Rob’s wife is easy to engage and even easier to convince that my story is right. She tells me we should catch up when she comes to Brisbane next week, and I agree that I’d love that too. When she says she has to go to the bathroom, I cheer on the inside that my job here is done, and I can escape for some time by myself before Joe comes back.
I grab another wine on my way out of the room, taking a long sip as I find a secluded spot at the end of the corridor outside the function room.
Sliding down the wall, I sit on the floor, kick my heels off, and exhale a long breath.
We’re going home tomorrow, and I can’t wait. There’s something comforting about being in your own space. Also, going home means I can spend some time with Alexa, and God, I need that.
“Mayfair.”
My eyes blink open and I find Mason standing in front of me.
“You shouldn’t wander off by yourself,” he says.
I sip some more wine, processing the fact his hate towards me seems to be thawing. Yesterday he told me I needed to be careful. Now he’s telling me I shouldn’t wander off. Patting the floor, I say, “Sit with me for a moment.”
“I’m working, Chelsea. I’m not fucking sitting and chatting with you.”
I push up off the floor and stand. “So it’s okay to fuck me while you’re working, but not to sit and talk with me?”
“I didn’t fuck you while I was working. I did that on my own fucking time.”
My eyes trail over his suit before coming back to linger on his neck tattoo. Reaching out, I trace my fingers over it. I’m surprised he lets me. I know he’s affected by me when he swallows hard and brings his hand up to curl around my wrist.
I meet his gaze. “I figured you’d cover it up,” I say softly.
“I will.” The words crash into me with their force, but there’s something in his eyes and his voice that makes me doubt that will happen anytime soon.
My breathing turns shallow as I move closer to him. Dropping my gaze, I run my eyes over the tattoo again. I’m fixated on it. It’s me on his skin, and the fact he hasn’t covered it up yet means something.
I undo the top two buttons of his shirt. Slowly. So very slowly.
“Mayfair,” he says, his voice low and full of gravel. Oh God, how I’ve missed that gravel. It works its way through my veins, setting me on fire for him.
I find his eyes again as I stand on my toes. “Please don’t stop me.”
He watches me intently, sliding his hand around my waist, not stopping me.
My fingers graze his neck as I wrap my hand around it. Bringing my lips to his skin, I press a kiss to his tattoo.
“Fuck,” he groans, his fingers digging into my waist.
I move against him, into him, and bring my other hand up to his face as I move my lips along his neck and keep kissi
ng his tattoo.
“Fucking hell,” he growls, taking hold of my face and directing my lips to his.
I tell him everything I can’t put into words in this kiss.
I whisper secrets I can never say out loud.
I beg for his forgiveness for every hurt, every betrayal, every ache I’ve caused.
He feels it all. I know he does.
It’s in the way his touch is more gentle. In the way he deepens the kiss rather than forces his hate down my throat. In the way his body moves with mine rather than demands control of mine.
And it’s in the way he looks at me when the kiss ends. Like he used to look at me.
He drops his hands and steps away from me. The turmoil in his eyes slays me.
“I can’t fucking do this,” he says. His voice is filled with a new level of torment. It slays me too. I’ve done this to him, and I will loathe myself forever for that.
“I’m sorry,” I start, but stop talking the moment I see his reaction.
“Stop fucking saying sorry.” His eyes flash with anger. “I don’t need your apology. What I fucking needed was for you not to walk the fuck away. I needed you to trust I could fix things.” He jabs his finger in the air. “That’s what I fucking needed, and you couldn’t give it to me, so don’t fucking try and give me anything now because I don’t fucking want it.”
Before I can say anything else, he turns and stalks away from me. I stare breathlessly after him, every piece of my heart shattering into tiny pieces.
He will never be mine again.
I was born to be Mason Blaise’s girl, and I will never be that again.
23
Chelsea
Alexa: I’m sorry, babe, but I have to cancel our lunch today. Mum’s just been admitted to hospital.
Me: Oh my God, is she okay?
Alexa: They’re running some tests. I mean, I didn’t think she was any worse than usual, but the doctors are saying the cancer treatment is affecting her kidneys. Or something like that. Honestly, I’m finding it hard to keep up and understand everything going on.
Me: Do you need me? I’ll come if you do, but I get it too if you would prefer me not to be there.
Alexa: I love you and I always need you, but not at the hospital. I’ll call you tonight and we’ll reschedule lunch.
Me: Okay. I’m always here if you need to talk. Love you xx
I place my phone down on my desk and think about Alexa and her mum, which then leads me to thoughts of Mason and how he’s coping with all this. Mason hasn’t been close to his parents for a while now, but I imagine his mum being sick would have stirred a lot of emotions up for him. After hearing his phone call with her when he told her he’d come and be with her at the hospital, I know he’s struggling with this; I heard that in his voice.
“Chelsea,” Joe says, coming into the office he had set up for me next to his, “I have to go to Sydney tomorrow, so I’m going to need you to attend a lunch I was supposed to go to with your father.” He places a file on my desk. “This is the information you need to know for it.”
We arrived home yesterday from our trip and are straight into the campaign today after taking yesterday afternoon off. I resigned from my job the day Joe told me to and wasn’t surprised in the least when my boss told me I didn’t need to give any notice. I suspect Joe had a hand in that. He’s got what he wants now—me settled into an office right next to him so he can keep an eye on me and boss me around.
Joe really did marry the wrong woman.
I’m determined to show him that.
I pick up the file. “I’ll go through it today. Is there anything else you need me to do while you’re away? When will you be back?”
“I’ll be home on Friday. I’ll email you what needs to be done before then.”
He exits the office, and I spend the next hour going over the information in the file. It’s more about the mine that Dwayne Moss is trying to gain approval for and that Joe and Dad are trying to help him with. All so very above board when the premier is doing dirty deals behind doors to push a mine through that half the state doesn’t want. I don’t have an opinion on it either way; at this point, I can only focus on what I’m trying to achieve.
Closing the file, I push my chair back and stand to go in and tell Joe I’m going out for lunch. I’m almost at the door between our offices when I hear his angry voice. Slowing, I stop and eavesdrop on his conversation. This is the only good thing about working so closely with him, and I intend to make the most of the opportunity to snoop.
Although he’s talking angrily, he’s doing it in hushed tones, so I can only make out some of what he’s saying. By the sounds of it, he’s discussing some financial investments he’s made on behalf of a client that don’t sound like they were legal. If I’m not mistaken, he’s involved in money laundering and insider trading. Thank God for my degree in finance; it’ll help me figure out Joe’s dirty secrets.
He abruptly ends the call and I dart back to sit at my desk in case he comes in.
A minute later, he appears in my office looking stressed. “I have to go out for the afternoon. I’ll see you at home tonight.”
I watch him leave, thinking about this new information I have on him. I know what I’ll be doing while he’s away: going through his files looking for proof of his illegal activities.
Joe comes home super late that night. I’m already in bed, so I’m spared having to spend time with him, and then he leaves early on Wednesday morning to fly to Sydney. The universe appears to have come to its senses and decided to play nice with me. It starts my morning off well and this continues for the rest of the day.
I attend the lunch Joe asked me to and impress my father again with my knowledge of the mine. I then spend time trying to crack Joe’s password on his computer so I can take a look at his files. After two hours of trying to do that and also rifling through his paperwork, I admit defeat. I’ve found nothing in his paperwork and can’t figure out his password.
By the time I arrive at Alexa’s for the dinner we rescheduled from lunch yesterday, I’m frustrated and annoyed. And I’m ready to have a drink with her to take the edge of that frustration.
“How’s your mum today?” I ask as we walk into her kitchen, where she’s making tacos for dinner.
“They sent her home this morning. She needs to keep being monitored, though.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how worried are you?”
“Nine, but this is me we’re talking about.”
I smile. This is why I was adamant about making sure we caught up sooner rather than later. Alexa is a worrier when it comes to her family. A nine for her is the equivalent of a five for most other people. “I bought a bottle of your favourite wine.” I hold it up.
She opens her fridge to show me two bottles of the same wine sitting in the door. “I think we’re good for tonight.” She grabs two wine glasses. “We have a lot to talk about tonight, my friend. And just let me say it, I fucking love your hair. I knew that style would suit you.”
I take a sip of wine after she passes me a glass. “I love the length. It’s so much easier to manage.”
“Okay, spill. Tell me all about your week away and your new job, and don’t leave anything out.”
Oh, I’ll be leaving a whole lot of it out. Last week was a fucked-up mess of epic proportions, and she doesn’t need to know about half of it.
I share what I can with her while we eat dinner and work our way through a bottle of wine. The alcohol goes to my head pretty fast because wine always does that to me, so when Alexa suggests we open another bottle, I’m all for it. Drinking more always sounds like a good idea when you’re already drunk.
We sit on her couch and talk about my marriage, her mum, and her work before moving onto discussing the guy she’s been sleeping with. We’re laughing our asses off as she tells me how her cat bit him on the ass while he was going down on her when Mason’s voice cuts through our laughter.
“Your door was unlocked,” he
says, his eyes firmly on me, instantly causing desire to pool low in my stomach. “Any-fucking-one could have come in while you two were in here fucking about.”
Alexa moves off the couch, stumbling a little on her way to him. “Good God, do you ever stop worrying and bossing people around? You need a drink is what you need.” She comes to a stop, pointing her finger at him. “Oh, and you really need to look at my showerhead since you didn’t get to do that the other night.”
He looks at her. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”
I run my eyes over him while they discuss her leaking showerhead. He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt tonight. I miss his suit, but I’ve always loved him in a white shirt. With his tanned skin, beard, and muscles that are distracting as hell, he makes a white shirt look better than I’ve ever seen one look on a man.
“Chelsea,” Alexa says. “Did you hear what I just said?”
I blink and stop staring at Mason, who’s looking at me like he’s thinking about all the things he did to me last week. “S-Sorry,” I stutter, tripping over my words, feeling all bothered by him. “What?”
She gives me a knowing look. “I asked if you were ready for another wine?”
I nod. “Please.”
She pours our drinks and hands me mine before saying, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I take a big sip of wine as I watch her walk to the bathroom. Being alone with Mason is dangerous, and while it’s all I want, I know it’s a bad idea. A very bad idea. I’m doing my best not to look at him, but without Alexa in the room, I’m struggling.
He places the toolbox he’s carrying on the kitchen counter, opens the fridge, and bends to search for what he wants. A moment later, he retrieves a beer and closes the fridge. Twisting the cap off, he takes a long swig before coming to me. His eyes reach deep inside me as he says, “You need to be more careful, Mayfair. I told you to watch your back. Not locking that door isn’t fucking watching your back.”