He ordered a bottle of wine, of which I can neither remember the name or pronounce. It probably cost more money than I could earn in a year. My head felt clouded as our menus were handed to us. I looked at the items, and I could feel his eyes on me, assessing me as I studied the selections.
“There are no prices listed,” I commented.
“I’m glad for it. Then you won’t choose the cheapest thing on the menu,” He smirked as he looked at me.
“That’s why you told Amy to hide all the price tags from me that day she took me shopping,” I commented as the waiter returned with a fancy glass bottle of white wine.
“Oh yes, Jilly Bean. I remember taking you and your family out to eat a few times. It drove me crazy when the three of you always chose the cheapest meal. You’re the only people I knew who wouldn’t take advantage of a free meal by ordering filet mignon, or lobster.” He chuckled as the waiter filled our glasses partially.
“Thank you,” I said to the waiter as he handed my glass to me. The man looked at me slightly surprised.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, then turned to Mason and listed the evening’s specials.
“What will you be having this evening, Sir and Madam?”
Madam? Well, that’s a first…
Mason looked at me keenly, and then spoke to the waiter. We’ll both have the Strangozzi al Tartufo Nero, with a side of breadsticks.”
“Very good, sir.”
I had no idea what Mason had just ordered, but I still trusted him to know what I liked. I sipped from the wine glass, savoring the crisp taste, as we both stared at each other in silence.
“I guess this is our first date? Is this a date?” I asked, confused.
“Well, we’re in a romantic setting in an upscale restaurant, and I can’t stop thinking about how I want to kiss every inch of your body- right down to your silky, soaking slit.” My eyes widened as my thighs clenched together. Heat coiled within me.
He chuckled as he analyzed my reaction. “So yes, I’d say this is a date.”
I was still reeling from the dirty things he’d just said to me in a public place, but my heart soared when he confirmed that this was a real date. Still, we weren’t in the clear yet.
“Why did you have those photos of me hidden in your desk?” I asked, trying very much to keep my voice calm.
Mason’s expression was pained, but it was fleeting. Then he looked up at me calmly.
“I enjoy our times together Jillian. I wanted something to look back on… which reminds me…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gray velvety box, rectangular in shape.
My eyes widened, and my breath caught as he opened the box. A diamond bracelet sparkled from the candle light. I was so sure I knew what he was going to say next. I want you to be my girlfriend, Jilly Bean. Oh, I would. Gladly.
“I’d like to extend the contract,” He said bluntly. I felt like he’d smacked my face. I stared at him blankly, blinking.
“What?” I sputtered.
“I want to extend the contract, if you are willing,” He repeated.
I pursed my lips. I bit my lower lip, and I sucked in a deep breath to keep from losing my temper. I don’t believe this. After our time last night and this morning. He can still only think about a contract.
“Why?” I demanded. “Why do you want to extend the contract?
“You know why, Jill. I’m not ready to give you up next month.”
“Then don’t.” My voice held a quiet tenacity that caught him by surprise.
“Why does everything have to be a business document for you?” I asked with the same low tone to my voice.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I threw down my napkin. I needed to get a grip on myself. “Excuse me.”
I briskly stood and retreated into the marbled bathroom. It was exquisite in style but I couldn’t have cared less at the moment. I escaped into one of the stalls and bit down on my lip to keep the tears away. I took several deep breaths to control myself. I was so hurt and angry that he’d let me in and then attempt to push me away. Why did he want to keep a hold on me if he insisted on keeping me at arms length?
I was sick of these games. He ran hot and cold. As soon as he began to show affection towards me, he’d do something to keep me at arm’s length. Enough. He refused to commit to anyone because of her. I knew it. I was paying the price for someone who didn’t even deserve his love in the first place. Perhaps it was that coupled with my low status. I was a nobody and he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors. Eligible bachelor? Screw that.
I was in the bathroom for a long time as I struggled with my thoughts and fought to keep myself together. When I finally returned to our table, our food had arrived, but Mason had not touched his meal. He sipped from his wine glass quietly as he looked at me. I would not meet his gaze.
“Don’t you like the bracelet? It’s a timeless piece. Sweet and perfect, just like you.” He said, trying to calm my nerves.
I wasn’t having it. I’m sure this tactic has worked many times over in the past, but not with me. He should know better by now.
“It’s beautiful,” I muttered before taking a healthy sip from my wine glass. I barely looked at my food. “But I don’t want it.”
This was supposed to be a perfect first date, but instead, it had gone to shit. Thanks, Mason.
He sighed and set his glass down. “What do you want from me, Jillian?” He asked with more command in his voice.
I looked up at him with a pained expression. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He looked away momentarily. He swallowed hard.
“What’s the real reason you want to extend the contract, Mason?” I asked.
I was flabberghasted. For a man who was successful in managing two separate enterprises, this proposal seemed illogical, senseless… stupid.
“Damnit Jillian,” He said quietly, gritting his teeth. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose.
I didn’t want to keep pressing him further, but it had to be done.
“This is because of her, isn’t it?” I asked. I closed my eyes, feeling his blazing stare on me.
I thought he was going to rebuke me and raise his voice for bringing up such a sore subject. I knew he was still in love with her.
“You are still in love with her.” I said this with such bitterness in my voice.
It took a lot of nerve to keep pressing and the silence that followed made my heart pound that much more.
“No,” he finally said quietly. “I don’t love her.”
I looked at him just as his eyes locked with mine. I watched as his face transitioned from stone to … something softer as he looked at me.
“She slipped through my fingers and I lost her. I don’t do relationships, Jill. I refuse to ever allow myself to be that vulnerable and mindless again.” There was such conflict in his voice, in his expression.
“Why did you bring me into your room, then?” I asked.
“Your food is getting cold,” he stated.
“So you are going to die a lonely old man. No wife. No children. Nobody.”
“I have never desired to marry or have children,” He spoke sternly. The glare he gave me was a severe warning.
“That’s not true,” I said quietly. This conversation was going nowhere and I was exhausted.
“Marriage, at one time, yes. But never children. I will never bring a child into my family. The trauma. The pressure.” He grit his teeth.
I said nothing more. I was done talking in circles, trying to convince him of something I knew little about, of something he was adamantly against hearing.
“Alright,” I answered quietly, and forked a bit of pasta into my mouth, then sipped from my wine glass. He was surprised that I’d ended the conversation just like that.
“Will you at least consider extending the contract?” He asked softly.
I let out a shaky breath. “Mason, the longer I stay with you, the more broken-hearted I will be wh
en it really does end. I’d prefer to leave with my mind somewhat intact, rather than be devastated and crushed.” Just as I am now.
I took a deep gulp of wine and kept my gaze away from him. Despite the delicious food, expensive jewelry, and first-class treatment, this was the worst date ever.
I didn’t look at him as he remained quiet, obviously deep in thought. Finally he spoke. “Fair enough, Ms. Pryor.”
I finally looked at him, and saw the conflict and pain on his face. I just didn’t understand any of this. I didn’t understand him.
When we arrived home, he set his keys on the glass table in the foyer and looked down at me. There was lust and longing in his eyes, but instead of taking me to his bed, he bid me good night and retreated down the hall. Needless to say, I did not sleep that night. My heart was broken.
15. Mason Woodward
Damn her. Damn Jillian Pryor. I’d never met a woman more challenging. I’d never failed at distracting a woman with fancy dinners and expensive jewelry before Jillian Pryor.
Yes, I am absolutely, completely in love with her. Truth be told, I had other plans for the direction of this evening. I never anticipated that she’d find evidence of my malicious, ruthless plan. Now, I just want to protect her, keep her safe. I had gone through the surveillance videos from cameras that had been hidden throughout my penthouse. I printed those photos two months ago, when my quest for revenge was fresher in my mind. I’d placed them in an envelope, prepared to mail them to her brother once the contract was complete.
For a brief time, I’d forgotten that I left the envelope in my top drawer. I should have burnt those photos the minute I realized how much Jillian Pryor meant to me. How could I be so fucking mindless? She wanted to be with me apart from the contract. The night before, I had sworn to myself that I would never let her go when I took her into my bed. She would be mine, and only mine. For keeps. She’d broken down my walls. She captured my heart unlike any woman before her. Not even Ella.
I bought the bracelet with the intention of telling her that I her that I wanted her, apart from the contract. In fact, I wanted to tear the bloody thing in half. Then she found those photos, and wanted answers.
Agonizing guilt washed over me. To think I had planned to use her in such a deceitful scheme, knowing that it would ultimately crush her… I disgusted myself. This was exactly the reason why I had been avoiding Piper’s phone calls.
I suddenly remembered why I could not let Jillian Pryor love me, but I was not ready to let her go in one month’s time. Still, if I entered into a serious relationship with this woman, I’d have to face her family at some point. Travis. Could I imagine myself drinking beer with him at the once-a-year family barbeque? Christmas? Thanksgiving? Fuck no.
At the end of the day, she was still his sister. I tried to use these thoughts as a means to reason with myself for tonight’s actions, but I was just a damned fool.
I retreated into my office and my temper raged. I slammed my fist down on my desk, and then threw everything from the surface. Glass decoratives shattered against the wall. Papers went flying. I didn’t care. I cursed myself for being so foolish the night before. I grabbed my glass bottle of MaCallan and guzzled it, enjoying the burn in my throat. I didn’t know what I was thinking when I suggested stretching the contract.
I couldn’t declare my love to a woman whom I had been so close to damaging with my trickery. Although I had decided weeks ago to forfeit such a plan, I was disgusted that I had manipulated and schemed. I was disgusted that I entered the plan at all, with the intention of hurting her in order to get to her brother. I didn’t deserve such a woman. I was unlovable; She’d see that sooner or later.
I continued gulping the whiskey and was completely inebriated by the time I threw the expensive bottle into the cold hearth. By the end of the evening, I’d fallen asleep on the sofa in my study and woke up with a blaring headache the following morning.
****
I entered the kitchen with a hangover I hadn’t experienced since High School. Jillian was sitting at the breakfast bar, eating a bowl of cereal. I felt her sad, beautiful dark eyes on me quietly.
“Hey Mrs. O’Malley,” I said as I plopped onto the barstool. The older woman turned away from the stove where she was frying eggs and bacon and stared at me.
“Good morning, Mr. Woodward,” she said, clearly judging me in this state. I was always in such control. Her blue eyes darted from me to the woman sitting beside me. Jillian stared down at her cereal bowl. I should probably say something to Jill. I turned to her, still uneasy. My head was pounding.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
Her eyes glanced up at me. I could see that she’d been crying. “Me too,” she whispered.
Mrs. O’Malley set a plate of toast with bacon and eggs in front of me. This was not my usual breakfast of choice, but I needed it this morning. A glass of water was firmly placed next to my plate and I saw a hint of a glare in Mrs. O’Malley’s eyes.
“Do you still want the bracelet?” I asked Jill.
“No.” She took a sip of orange juice. Then, she slipped off the stool and left the kitchen, returning a minute later with two advil. She took my hand, and placed the caplets into my palm.
I downed the caplets with the water and looked at her and her eyes locked with mine.
“What is on your agenda today? Are you going to work?” She asked me, taking another sip of her juice.
“Nope,” I said stupidly.
She looked at me quietly, and then giggled softly.
I looked at her quizzically.
“You never say ‘nope.’ It just sounded funny coming from you.”
God, I love this girl. I gave her a lopsided grin, still reeling from my hangover.
Mrs. O’Malley had since left the kitchen and busied herself with other household chores. Jillian looked at me thoughtfully, but she said nothing.
Something told me in my gut that Jillian wasn’t about to give up on me. She watched me eat my breakfast, then took my plate and cleared it once I was finished.
“I don’t believe a word you said last night, by the way,” she said quietly.
“No?” I asked. I wasn’t in a state of mind to be challenging or argue.
“No,” her voice was quiet as she rinsed the dish and placed it into the dishwasher.
“I don’t think you would have been so affected if you meant some of the things you implied last night. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t drink yourself into a stupor.” She returned to me and looked at me as I sat slumped over the breakfast bar.
“Come with me,” she held out her hand.
Without a word, I took her hand and she led me into my bedroom. Since when does this woman invite herself in? She pushed me gently against the bed, then crawled on top of me, straddling me.
She’s a fucking angel, I thought to myself as I stared up at her. Then, she leaned over and began massaging my scalp and my temples. I closed my eyes, feeling the throb decrease as she caressed everywhere. It felt amazing.
“Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean I’m not in charge,” I gave a smirk as I teased.
“Hmm,” She responded and then withdrew her hands from my scalp. The throbbing ache quickly returned.
“Ugh, don’t stop,” I said.
She chuckled and resumed massaging my scalp, minimizing the pressure points that made my head pound.
“I’m not giving up on you, Mason Woodward. Stop trying to push me away,” she whispered quietly.
Good.
“I think I’m doing you a favor, sugar.” I said with closed eyes.
“Why do you think that?”
“I’m not good for you. You’ll see eventually.”
“I don’t believe that,” Her fingers continued to work their magic.
“Say you did push me away, then what?” She asked after a few minutes.
“I can’t stay away from you,” I answered, entranced by the way she was massaging the ache out of my head. I cons
idered what life would be like without her… It would be an empty void.
She looked at me pointedly. “I know that people have done things to hurt you and betray your trust, but you can’t shut everyone out, Mason. You can’t shut me out. I’m not giving up on you.” Her voice was gentle, but serious.
No, I couldn’t push her away.
Soon enough, her hands got tired, but the advil was starting to take effect. I was feeling ten times better, but she lay her head on my chest and held me. I couldn’t bring myself to move, so I wrapped my arms around her tightly and held her close.
I knew I’d feel much less guilty if I explained the truth and she could forgive me. I was typically an amazing public speaker, if I do say so myself. Yet, this woman left me without words. There was no way I could clear my conscience without her hating my guts.
Perhaps in time this guilt would fade as I spent more time with her. I could show her the world and provide her with everything she could possibly want: Expensive clothes, cars, beautiful houses, five-star vacations. In time, those things could erase my past sins, yes? I wasn’t completely convinced, but I needed her to stay with me.
My head was beginning to clear, but she remained on top, pressed against me, snuggled against my chest. I raked my fingers through her mussed hair. Tonight, I’d make up for last night’s botched date.
“After my cousin’s party tonight, I’m going to bring you back to my apartment and show you such pleasure you’ve never even dreamed about,” I whisper to her, stroking my fingers through her hair.
She lifted her head with a soft smile and looked at me. “I want to try everything in that room. I think about it all the time.”
My cock swelled in my plaid bottoms. She gave me a coy smile as she rubbed against my swollen bulge, biting her lower lip. I closed my eyes and groaned. I gripped her by the arms and pulled her up to my level, I took that plump lower lip between my teeth and pulled. I kissed her with a hot intensity. Her mouth was hungry, as though she needed this as much as I did.
I pulled away as a thought came to me. “I don’t want you to wear anything under your dress tonight,” I instructed sternly. “I want you wet and ready for me at any time of my choosing this evening.”
His Pawn (The Manhattan Tales Book 1) Page 18