You Are My Hope (You Are Mine Book 2)

by W. Winters

  I’ve lost that. It’s a new low that’s left me shattered and scattered into small pieces on the floor. I don’t even know where to start picking them up. I only know the sharp edges will leave me bleeding out as I do.

  Cool air drifts into the limo and the light shines just a bit brighter as Mason opens my door. With the wind comes his scent, a natural masculine scent mixed with a clean fragrance from his cologne.

  “Don’t deny me, sweetheart,” Mason says just under his breath as I stare at his outstretched hand. His statement makes my eyes lift to his and I get lost in his swirls of gray and silver. I never had a chance with this man. A tortured soul lies behind those eyes that makes me weak for him. He needs love so desperately; he needs someone, and my very soul craves his.

  He was my downfall. Created to destroy me. I slip my hand into his, comforted by the warmth as he wraps his fingers slowly around mine and supports me as I rise from the limo. I keep my eyes down and don’t look forward. I can hardly focus on breathing as my heels click on the pavement and Mason leads me forward.

  I pull my black bolero shrug tighter around my shoulders and attempt to hide from the harsh weather while ignoring everyone around me.

  The doors open and the mix of chatter and the soft melody of an orchestra carry through the air and envelop me as though it’s home, as though it’s safe. But I’m very much aware that I’m in danger. I scan every face for the one I saw only days ago. The man holding a gun.

  At the thought I grip Mason’s hand tighter and he pulls me in closer to him, walking in time with me, our steps in unison as the lights get brighter and the air warmer. A small smile slips onto my face, although inside I’m screaming.

  I’m dying from the hypocrisy, but intensely aware it’s my only chance of survival.

  “Mason,” I hear a man call out and my smile falters only slightly as my steps are halted. We’re to be seen. Unwaveringly present.

  “Father,” Mason says tightly and I stand there with a sweetness in my composure, tilting my head slightly as the breeze from the doors being opened again sends a chill up my back. My shoulders shudder and Mason wraps his hand around my hip, pulling me in closer.

  I don’t flinch when his father looks at me. In a crisp suit complete with a charming smile, he appears to be an entirely different man than the one I met before.

  “Miss Summers, you look utterly breathtaking this evening,” his father says and naturally my smile widens. It’s a shame a man like him can possess such poise and charm. I suppose everyone needs some way to survive and thrive.

  My heart beats faster and my limbs scream at me to run, or worse, slap the bastard across the face for what he did only days ago, but instead I part my lips and respond sweetly, “I’m so sorry for the other day. I’m afraid I wasn’t well.”

  He falters, the real emotions showing through and just when I think he’s going to hide it, when I think the mask that slipped will be forced back into place, he leans in slightly and says, “I do apologize as well,” and I swear it seems sincere. “I had no right to come between you two.”

  Mason stiffens beside me, and my own composure threatens to dissolve. I’ve never faced this kind of mastery of manipulation before. I don’t know whether to react sincerely or how to play this game.

  “I only want what’s best for my son.”

  It’s only then that I realize our games are different. I’m no match for him, but in the same vein, he’s no match for me.

  “Champagne?” a server asks on my right, breaking the moment and I instantly turn to her.

  “No, thank you,” spills from my mouth easily and she’s quick to move on after the men each shake their heads.

  I watch from my periphery as she leaves, walking easily without a care and holding the tray just so. The champagne doesn’t even seem to move; she’s learned to do her job well.

  “Excuse me a moment, Mason,” I tell him, patting his forearm and waiting for him to release my hand. He doesn’t, though.

  He holds me a moment longer than he should, quietly watching me and waiting for a reason. “I need to use the restroom,” I whisper to him as softly and flirtatiously as I can, feeling the number of eyes on us grow. It may all be in my head, because for all I know I’m losing it, and with every second my anxiety grows.

  “Of course,” he says although the reflection in his eyes is something else. Something far more vulnerable and unwilling. He kisses my hand, bringing it to his lips and then releasing me without another word.

  I force a smile to stay in place although it begs to fall. Everything in me is screaming that something is wrong. I walk as quickly as I can to the back of the room, deeper and deeper through the crowd of beautiful guests. I turn my body slightly when needed and ignore the conversations around me as I head to the restrooms.

  I could just run. I could run away.

  Away from all of this, and never stop.

  I’ll find myself again, but not here. Not when I know I want the very thing that will bury me.

  Mason

  So close to having everything,

  So close to nothing at all.

  The teeter-totter rocks back and forth,

  While knowing you will fall.

  It’s all there within your grasp,

  But the life has turned to stone.

  You should have known, you foolish man,

  You were meant to live alone.

  “I appreciate the apology,” I tell my father, although my gaze isn’t on him at all. My eyes are on Jules’s back as her hips sway and she leaves me.

  When I first laid eyes on her, she blended in so easily. Each small motion was seemingly genuine. Not tonight.

  My sweetheart is obviously full of hurt and pain and insecurity. In a room full of fake assholes brimming with confidence and arrogance, my Jules doesn’t belong.

  I wonder if everyone else in this room can see it as clearly as I do. I was wrong to bring her. I could have found another way. My father’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Miss Harrington will be there, and she made it clear she’s interested.”

  Marcy Harrington’s an investor who likes to get close with her clients and “know” them before writing a check with her family inheritance. Promiscuous would be a kind word to use. In addition, she’s practically untouchable, and always gets what and who she wants.

  “This is about appearances, not business. I couldn’t give two shits about business right now.”

  “Appearances?” my father asks, and I feel my hands clench at my sides. He knows damn well what the papers are saying.

  “I’d like the world to know that I’m not beating her behind closed doors.”

  My father shrugs as if the rumor swirling around the city isn’t a concern in the least. “I’d like to know what you are doing behind closed doors. Or more importantly… what’s being said between you two,” he says, turning his body to follow my gaze. She’s vanished though, wherever she’s gone.

  As my eyes drift back to him, I feel the accusations rise. Now’s not the time or place, I think over and over as my forehead furrows and I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from grabbing him. My muscles are tense, and the words are on the tip of my tongue.

  There’s no use in letting them out though, because I know he’ll just lie. He’s damn good at it and so used to it, I doubt he knows the truth from a lie anymore.

  “We should have a meeting soon,” I say easily, completely at odds with my true feelings. “Business and otherwise.”

  My father’s brows raise slightly, and he looks genuinely surprised. “Of course,” he says, patting me on the back. “I trust it’s about the matter from the other night?” he asks although it’s said as a statement.

  “It is,” I say, feeling the ball of rage grow larger, getting harder to contain. I clear my throat and glance back to where Jules disappeared, only to see her good friend and editor Katerina striding toward me.

  My face stays neutral, with no emotions expressed whatsoever as she approac
hes.

  “I’ll talk to you soon,” my father says beneath his breath, turning his back to Kat and walking away without waiting for me to acknowledge him.

  Kat approaches me with an expression of distrust, an air about her that makes it obvious she’s here because she hasn’t heard from Jules. I thought about responding to her messages myself. Jules received texts from so many people feigning concern, but really wanting gossip. And then her friends, who seem genuinely worried.

  Before she stops in front of me, I force a small smile to my lips, one that’s welcoming. I’m already losing my sweetheart; I need to play this right.

  “Mason.” Kat states my name as if she’s ready for a fight, but that’s not how this is going to go down. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  “I’m so happy you’re here, Kat,” I say and nod my head slightly. “Have you seen Jules already?” I play up the concern in my own voice and expression, and watch as her anger slips and her forehead pinches. She finally looks behind her for only a moment before turning her attention back to me.

  “We just got here. She’s here?”

  “You came with Evan?” I ask her. Her husband is well known in the public relations industry, although he travels with an entirely different sort of social circle. The industry has treated him well, but he’s rarely home. That’s the angle I have. Two couples; the men friends, the women friends. She’ll trust me. She’ll help me. At least I pray she will.

  “I did,” she says and peers to her right, closer to the entrance before clearing her throat and adding, “He’s here somewhere.” She licks her lips and squares her shoulders, remembering what she’s come here to yell at me about.

  I cut her off before she can begin by saying, “I’d really like it if you could talk to Jules.” Jules’s name on my lips and the thought of someone talking to her privately makes apprehension creep into my veins at the possibility of her spilling the truth. I shrug it off and use the intensity of the truth to help create the lie. “She’s taking the wedding situation a little bit hard.”

  Kat watches me for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she assesses my words. I lean forward, dropping my voice and letting the insecurity that is all too real show. “She’s not okay,” I tell her. “She could really use a friend right now.”

  “I haven’t spoken to her in over a week,” Kat says, confiding in me and I don’t let on that I know it’s uncommon for Jules not to return a call. I play my emotions as I should.

  “I’m not sure she wants to talk about it”—I can see Kat’s objection on the tip of her tongue and I say it before she can—“but she needs to.”

  Kat’s mouth stays parted and she tilts her head, still judging my request as her husband walks up behind her.

  “Evan.” I pull back from Kat and press my lips into an acceptable smile. One that reflects my unease for what Jules is going through. At least that’s what it shows Kat. A part of me feels like a prick, like the manipulative asshole I am, undeserving of Jules. But I already knew I wasn’t good enough for her, and this show, this front, is all to save us. To save what we have.

  “Thatcher, how are you, man?”

  A huff of a grunt leaves me as I rock back on my heels and shove my hands in my suit pockets. “That’s my father’s name,” I say jokingly and Evan laughs deep from his chest, raising a tumbler of amber liquid to his lips. The ice clinks in his glass as he wraps his arm around his wife’s waist.

  “You two make quite the couple,” I say, complimenting them. They have definitely been the talk of the city on more than one occasion.

  “Speaking of couples,” Evan says, and his cuff slips back over his wrist as he lowers the whiskey, hiding the sleeve tattoo. His left arm is covered in tattoos. His background is perfect for his profession. He’s from Brooklyn with the reputation of a man who grew up on the wrong side of the law. He made a name for himself, but only in the best of ways for his job.

  He never got caught. Never had a conviction, and he knows the ins and outs of the press.

  That’s the kind of man the industry wants representing their clients when they’re out of the spotlight. Someone to party with and respect and be genuine friends with. But someone who knows when to leave the scene before it gets too rough, what to tell the press and who to go to when shit goes down.

  He’s damn good at what he does, but how the two of them have stayed married, I have no idea.

  “Where did Jules go?” Kat interjects before her husband can finish his thought. He glances at her from the corner of his eye and then releases her, taking a sip of whiskey and looking past me as Kat steps forward. She has no idea how she’s affected him.

  “Just to the restroom,” I say and motion to the back with my chin.

  “How’s she been?”

  “I think she’s really taking this transition hard… moving on and getting married again.” I could choke on the words.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Evan’s condolences are sincere, but I’m more than certain he doesn’t want a part in this conversation.

  “You better be good to her,” Kat says, the declaration sounding like a threat.

  I turn my attention back to her. “I’ll take care of her, I promise,” I assure her, meeting her prying gaze. I can see the moment my lies slip into place and Kat reaches up to give me a quick hug.

  “I’ll talk to her,” she says firmly, nodding her head and giving me a sympathetic look.

  “Thank you,” I say and hide the fact that dread is slowly consuming me. Jules was willing to tell the police before. Her dear friend who’s concerned for her well-being… I’m certain she’ll tell her something.

  Jules

  My body gets hotter and hotter with each step I take. Leaning against the counter, I listen to the water rushing from the faucet; it fills the empty restroom with white noise. Just breathe. Just breathe. I’ve never wanted to run so badly. That’s all I can think about.

  My heels click as I walk casually out of the side exit, smiling as best as I can although I’m not meeting the eyes of any of the guests who are having quiet conversations in the hall. As they sip on their cocktails and throw their heads back in jovial laughter, I want to walk faster; my body begs me to run. It takes great effort to keep my pace easy and pretend that nothing’s wrong as I tuck my hair back and say thank you to the doorman when I head outside.

  Goosebumps prickle along my skin as the bitter cold greets me. I pull the shrug tighter and maintain my composure when the look from the young man holding the door is riddled with questions.

  It’s too cold for me to be outside without a coat; I’m certain that’s what he’s thinking. But I cling to my clutch, the beaded fabric nearly slipping from the sweat on my hands.

  My heart races and all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears as the door closes behind me. The dark night lays before me, the busy street only a block away and through a small alley.

  This exit isn’t meant for departing guests. It’s meant for smoking and the faint smell gets stronger as I take a few steps farther out into the night. Away from the gala, from the spotlight and from Mason.

  Glancing to my left purely out of instinct from knowing someone’s there incites shock and fear both. Liam Olsen stares back at me. He pushes off of the wall, exhaling a puff of smoke that mixes with the fog of his breath. The bright red and orange embers of the cigarette travel through the air as he walks toward me. His oxford shoes crunch the snow beneath his heavy steps.

  I turn to face him, my eyes flitting between him and the exit I’ve just left. I’m not sure anyone can see me from here. There’s no light, only darkness where I’ve gone.

  The moonlight makes Liam’s skin look pale and his eyes dark as he walks closer to me. I swallow the dread in my throat and greet him accordingly. “How are you, Mr. Olsen?” My skin feels numb with the cold, yet alive with fear. I’ve never actually met the man, but I know the business he had with Mason dissolving has left its mark on him.

  “Where’s Mason?” Liam a
sks harshly, tossing his cigarette to the side where it’s instantly extinguished by the wet snow. Smoke billows from his nostrils as he comes closer, close enough to get a glimpse of his eyes. They’re nearly bloodshot and his walk uneven, but his question is forceful. I’m not sure if he’s drunk or angry. Maybe both.

  “Whatever happened between you two…” I can’t finish the thought.

  My voice is caught in my throat for a moment, my eyes going back to the exit where I can clearly see the guests. My heart pounds once then twice as time seems to pass in slow motion and I have to think quick. Liam takes a large step forward, closing the distance between us and I instantly take one back, although it’s on the edge of the sidewalk and my heel slips. I almost fall backward, and he catches me.

  He chuckles and reeks of liquor. I push my hands against his chest as I find purchase on the sidewalk, turning my body so he’s no longer between me and the exit.

  He’s drunk and he’s angry, so I’m careful as I pry his hands off me as respectfully as possible and desperately try to put more space between us.

  “He’s coming,” I tell Liam breathlessly. I have to clear my throat and repeat myself to sound surer of what I’m saying, but it doesn’t fool Liam. Either that, or he doesn’t care.

  “You really want a man like that?” he asks me. “After what he’s done?” he says and squints his eyes, and my throat closes with fear with the tone he takes. What does he know?

  “What?” I say, licking my lips although in the cold air it only makes them feel chapped. “What exactly did he do?” I ask Liam, taking another step back. I watch as he looks toward the door and then takes another step closer to me, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks. “Business partnerships don’t always—”

  “I’m going to make him pay,” he says, cutting me off and raising his brow as he reaches in his pocket for something. I involuntarily tense up, but it’s only a pack of cigarettes. He takes one out, then offers the pack to me as he slips a cig between his lips and tilts his head back.