by Andrea Joy
“Hurry, take this and duck,” she said. Not even ten seconds later, the guys burst into the room and it was three against one as she tried to hold them off. I couldn’t let her go down under those odds, so I jumped up from the table I was using and helped her attack them. Needless to say, we got kicked out of the library. I wasn’t even mad about it as the five of us made our way to a local pub and chatted over beers. I was shocked to learn that they were also from the GTA and attending UCLA together. However, with all of our schedules being so different, we’ve rarely had time to hang out over the two years, so we made a pact to meet for a pub crawl as soon as I landed back in Toronto.
I’m reminded of the events of last night and my sudden need to erase all my memories of Mason James when my head protests the loud musical talents of Chris Lane and Tori Kelly on the radio. Klara parks her new sports car behind a matte grey Audi and I think I just creamed in my pants. Hangover forgotten. Before Klara has the car turned off, my door is already open and I’m climbing out to get a better look at the car parked in front.
Sweet mother of pearl
If I could marry a car, this would be it. The Audi R8 V10 plus. The only way I know the exact model is that I’ve stared… and drooled… over pictures of this car online. My fingers itch to open the driver side door and take this baby for a spin.
“Sofia? You okay?” Klara asks, coming up behind me. A smirk on her face.
This car is like a wet dream. She giggles and I realize I must’ve said that out loud, but I couldn’t careless right now because my dream car is sitting in front of me, begging to be driven.
“This car goes from zero to sixty in three seconds. six-hundred-ten horsepower. Six thousand-five hundred rpm. You could reach a hundred and seventy miles per hour in just over twenty-one seconds. 5.2-liter V-10 engine…” I have to stop and remind myself to take a breath and swallow before I actually start drooling.
“Two point seven seconds, actually,” a deep voice says from behind me, making me jump.
I spin around, embarrassed at having been caught ogling the car, and look up into the eyes of none other than Mason James.
“W-What?”
He grins, stepping down from the front porch and stops a few inches in front of me, forcing me to look up at him. “You said it goes from zero to sixty in three seconds. It’s two point seven seconds to be exact.”
“Oh.” Is all I manage to get out and I want to kick myself for not coming up with something more intelligent to say. Like, can I drive it?
Mason’s gaze rakes over my face, the back of his knuckles running down the side of my cheek and I instinctively lean into his touch. “You like cars?”
“Love them.”
He groans when I lick my lips, pulling his gaze away from my eyes. Mason leans down until his lips brush against the shell of my ear, a shiver races through my body. “It makes me hard hearing you talk about my car.” He nips at my ear lobe. “If your cousin wasn’t in the house, I’d have you bent over the hood with my cock buried to the hilt inside you.”
I may have moaned. I’m not sure because he pulls back so fast like he’s been burnt. I swallow hard, trying to regain an ounce of the control I had before he appeared.
“You had your chance, James.”
“Forgive me, but I wasn’t about to take advantage of someone who was three sheets to the wind.”
That’s not the chance I was referring too, but I don’t say that out loud. If only he knew the biggest secret, I was keeping from him.
“I was not that drunk,” I say, crossing my arms and blowing out a breath to remove a strand of hair from my face.
His hand curls around the base of my neck, holding me in place. “So, you remember telling me how much you want me, little girl? How much you want to be my dirty little secret?”
“Stop calling me that.” I plant my hands, palms down, on his chest and shove.
“Why? It’s what you are, isn’t it? A dirty little girl.” He grins.
“You’re an asshole.” I shoulder passed him.
“I told you I wasn’t a good guy, Sofia,” he calls after me, but I keep walking. My feet automatically carrying me through the front door and into the entranceway of Braxton’s house. He did tell me he wasn’t a good guy, but instead of deterring me, like it should’ve, that knowledge just makes me want him more.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Antonio sings, dragging me into a hug as soon as I enter the living room.
I roll my eyes and elbow him in his side. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been home.”
“Two years,” my cousin says from behind me.
When I spin around to face him after Antonio lets me go, Braxton pulls me into his own hug. “It’s good to have you home, little cuz.”
Guilt begins to eat away at me as I curl my fingers into the material at the back of my cousin’s shirt and hug him back probably harder than I should be. I’m only fourteen months into my program, but I already can’t wait for it to be over. I should’ve been a lot further along, but I had to take the first semester of my second year off. Not by choice. And it’s not that I don’t love it. I absolutely do. Deciding to go to design school in California was the best decision I could’ve made, but I miss this. I miss my family. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have stayed away as long if it weren’t for a certain person. Staying in California during the Christmas and summer breaks while everyone else was going home to see their families was hard. Seeing Mason again after the gun range would’ve been harder.
Braxton lets me go and then joins his wife in the kitchen, helping her get down some plates that she can’t reach on a higher shelf. I take a seat on the couch beside Antonio and curl my bare legs under me. My fingers automatically going to the frayed edges of my jean shorts, and then down to trace the lines of my most recent tattoo. It’s a mandala piece I got on a whim several months ago. I’ve always loved the line work on mandala tattoos and the precision that’s needed to not make it look choppy or like a five-year-old did it. When I saw this one while I was scrolling Pinterest, I knew I needed to have it. The artist I found, helped me tailor it to me. The original piece had a lotus as the main focal point, and while I love the symbolism of it, it wasn’t me. Mine has the Beauty and the Beast rose at the top because well… I love all things Disney. The bottom almost looks like a chandelier. I have no idea how else to describe it.
I pull my phone from my pocket and send a quick text.
Me: How’s it going? Everything okay? Need me to come back sooner?
Ciaran: Everything’s fine. Enjoy your time with your family.
A second later, a picture comes through and my heart melts. As much as I love spending time with my family, it feels like my heart’s being split in two. Ciaran was a god send when I moved to California. Not only did he take me in - on request of my cousin - when I couldn’t get housing on campus, but when my life changed drastically after that first year, he took care of me… of us.
Guilt begins to snake its way through my belly at the reminder that I still haven’t told Mason or anyone in my family for that matter. They’re going to be pissed, not because of what happened but because I’ve kept it from them for so long. Braxton’s always preaching that it’s family above anything, that Family is all we have. When he finds out I’ve been keeping this secret, it’s going to crush him. Not just him but Mason too.
Antonio yells at something on the TV and I glance up to see he’s watching an old CFL game. Probably one of the Argonauts games Braxton recorded last season. I catch someone entering the living out of my peripheral and turn my head to see a gorgeous dark-haired woman standing slightly in front of Alessandro, his hand possessively around her waist. If I wasn’t one hundred percent straight, I’d probably try to steal her from him. Her dark hair is a huge contrast to her porcelain skin, but it suits her. She’s tall, maybe only a couple inches shorter than Alessandro himself, and she looks like a badass. Like, she can hold her own in any fight. Toni notices her
too and the two of us get up off the couch to greet the newcomer.
I make it to the pair first and reach out my hand to shake hers. “I’m Sofia, Braxton’s cousin.”
“Jessika,” She answers, her eyes taking in the various amounts of ink decorating my skin.
“Don’t even think about it,” Alessandro growls low.
“What?” Jessika asks, having let go of my hand and flutters her eyelashes at him. Alessandro drops his head to whisper something in her ear making a deep red blush creep up her cheeks.
After all introductions are made and Braxton has come out of his office, Klara shoos all the men outside to work the grill while Jessika and I help her finish getting the sides ready in the kitchen. When everything is ready, we all conjugate on the back patio around the large outdoor dining table.
With my fork hovering above the potato salad piled into the corner of my plate, I glance around the crowded table and a feeling of rightness begins to overshadow the guilt from earlier. I’ve missed this. I just didn’t know how much until right this second. I was an idiot for wanting to avoid coming home all because of some guy. A guy, even though it would hurt to see him, I still wish was here at this table. And isn’t that the most fucked up thing?
“Hey,” Jessika says from her seat beside me. “Are you okay?” Her dark eyes search mine and I have to fight hard not to squirm under their scrutiny. I just met her, but I have a feeling that she doesn’t miss much.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I grin around the lie and duck my head, focusing way too hard on the food on my plate, my appetite non-existent now. My mind on the man who is all kinds of wrong for me, but who I can’t seem to get out of my head no matter how much time has passed.
Chapter Eight
MASON
5 years ago
“You missed dinner.”
I lift my head from where I’m bent over my desk in my home office. Braxton stands leaning against the dark doorframe of my office, arms folded across his chest. I had left his house with the intention of grabbing a couple files from my car when I saw Sofia practically drooling over my car. Seeing her today, remembering the way she felt in my arms… there was no guarantee that if I had stayed, I wouldn’t have done something stupid like try to re-enact the kiss from last night. So, I left. I made up some bullshit excuse about being called in to the office, and thankfully Braxton didn't question it.
“Klara figured you would be holed up in your office. She sent leftovers,” he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of my kitchen.
“Tell her I say thank you.”
“You look tired.” He walks the rest of the way into the room and takes a seat in one of the brown leather wing backed chairs in front of my desk.
I remove my glasses and drop them on top of the case files I was just working on and pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping to stave off the headache I can feel coming. I’m not sure if the headache is from the outdated prescription or the anxiety of avoiding being alone with Sofia.
“It’s been two years. That new detective isn’t backing off. Rico said he was waiting at the warehouse last month; claims he had a warrant to search the property,” I say, trying to force my thoughts away from the one subject it seems to be stuck on.
“And did he?”
“No. Rico called his bullshit and the detective left, but not before claiming that he’d be back. I have no doubt that he’s trying to find a judge who will sign off on it. He won’t find one, though. At least not one in the GTA.”
Despite the jeans and t-shirt, Braxton still looks ever the mafia boss he is. The danger that makes people cower when he looks at them isn’t just in the appearance, although it helps, it’s in the confident way he carries himself. Even on the street, people give him space without even knowing who he is and what he does. He rests an elbow on one of the arms of the chair and rubs at his chin with his index and middle fingers, deep in thought.
“I’ll talk to Alessandro and see where we’re at with the information on him. Where are the files on Belan?”
“What files?” I ask, deadpan.
Braxton grins in satisfaction, but it falls as fast as it appeared. “What’s going on with you and my cousin?”
His question takes me by surprise, and I have to try hard not to react, to keep my facial expression neutral maybe even bored.
“Sir?”
He drops his elbow and leans forward, resting both elbows on his knees, hands clasped between his legs as he eyes me. “I know something happened after the New Year’s Eve party two years ago. It wasn’t hard to miss her reaction to you bringing another woman to the gun range.”
“With all due respect, Braxton…”
He waves off my reply and I shut my mouth.
“She’s twenty-one now and has a right to do whatever she wants with whomever she wants, obviously. I’m not saying to stay away from her, I’m just telling you to not break her heart, Mason.”
I wait for him to say more but when several seconds have gone by and he hasn’t, I take my chance to change the subject back to the task at hand and getting the detective off Braxton’s back.
Braxton’s cool gaze studies me – the change of subject not phasing him in the least – and I stare back at him refusing to break eye contact. Hoping he won’t question me further as far as Sofia is concerned. Eventually he nods and sits back in the chair.
“Good. Oh, and we expect you at the next family dinner,” He pushes out of the chair and moves back toward the door, but he pauses before exiting. “And Mason, if something were going on, I would hate for you to be the one in the basement strung up by your wrists. You’re a good lawyer, and a good friend, but if you hurt my cousin it will be your blood on the concrete floor.”
“Yes, sir.”
I suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since I looked up to see him standing in the doorway to my office and blow it out again. If anything was to support my decision that staying away from Sofia is a good idea, then that pseudo-meeting was it.
Chapter Nine
MASON
5 Years ago
“So, he handed you your ass,” Corey quips, tossing back another shot.
When I first arrived at the pub, he already had three shots set up for each of us, and who knows how much he had himself before I showed up.
“I need to figure out how to put an end to this detective sniffing around,” I say, bringing my second shot to my lips and drinking down the golden liquid.
Tequila.
Corey’s chosen poison when he’s in a drinking mood. The shit’s disgusting, but he earned the right to choose the drink tonight seeing as how he got here first.
“Why haven’t you? You should’ve had this guy buried by now.”
I signal to the bartender to bring us two more beers, hoping to put off answering for a little longer. He’s not wrong. Any other time. Any other case. Any other detective and I would’ve buried the asshole whether in paperwork or just being demoted at work or fired from the force. I would’ve had it done within the first few months. It has never taken me this long. But two years ago, I didn’t know what it felt like to finally have Sofia warm and pliant in my arms. I didn’t know what it was like to slide inside of her body, to taste her on my lips and tongue, to feel her beneath me. Should that be an excuse as to why my work’s suffering? No, it shouldn’t, but it is. I haven’t done anything about the detective because I’ve spent hours drowning myself in expensive whiskey to try and forget what she felt like and forget the look on her face when I walked away from her at the gun range two years ago and then again outside of the this very pub just a few days ago.
“What’s up with you anyway?” Corey asks, taking a drink from his beer.
I shrug, bringing the rim of the dark glass bottle to my lips. Corey chuckles beside me, shaking his head.
“What?”
“I have never seen you this far gone over a woman. Not since…”
Not since Emily.
�
�I’m not—”
Corey twists to look at me with an eyebrow raised and I snap my mouth closed.
“You are. The Mason James I know would’ve had this new cop kicked off the forced and disgraced by now. This girl is interfering with your job and you don’t even know it.”
He slams back the last shot of tequila after finishing his beer. The glass hits the bar top a little too hard and he sends an apologetic look over to the bartender before turning back to me and slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Get rid of the piece of shit. Don’t give De Luca another reason to kill you, and then get over the hard-on you have for his cousin.”
He makes it sound so easy. It should be. It should be so fucking easy that I can do it in my sleep. I’m a damn good lawyer, it’s why I made Partner faster than anyone else at the firm, except for Corey.
“I think it’s time I paid a visit to the Captain,” I say, slamming back my last shot and then the last of my beer and gathering my jacket from the back of my chair before standing and throwing a couple bills on the bar top. In truth, I should’ve done this when Mickelson first appeared but like Corey said, my head wasn’t in the game.
After tipping my head at the bartender, I turn to follow Corey back toward the door when a familiar figure catches my eye in among a sea of college students congregated in the far corner of the pub. Except it’s not Sofia. That fact is made painfully evident when the woman looks up, catching my eye. Her eyes are blue too, but they’re not the right shade and her face is a little rounder, her lips a little too small. I duck my head and keep moving toward the door and not toward her.
A memory takes over my senses. I can still feel the way Sofia’s lips moved against mine last night outside of this pub. How she felt in my arms, and the fallen look on her face when I pulled away and gave her orders to go back inside like a child.
I continue walking right out the door. My driver is already here so with a last two-finger salute to Corey, I open the door of the sleek black car and slide inside the backseat.