by Melissa Jane
I met Christina in the kitchen, her hands spread wide and resting on the counter.
“What’s wrong with you, Gem?”
I had misjudged my friend. She had sobered but was not on my side.
“I’ve known Mason since childhood,” I started. “How he presents himself to you is not who he really is.”
“And how is he?”
“He’s violent and manipulative.”
Christina shook her head dismissively. “Mason has never laid an unwanted hand on me.”
“How long have you been seeing each other?”
“Not long, but long enough to know that I feel safe in his presence and he’s great with Evie.
He’s the first man to have even given me a second glance. Having a newborn, and being a single mother, isn’t exactly on the top of a lot of men’s dating preferences.”
Her priorities were wildly skewed, but in a way, I could understand her vulnerability since Damian left. But she needed to hear the truth no matter how much it hurt.
“It wouldn’t matter what situation you’re in, Christina. He’s not after you. He’s after me!”
My friend recoiled like I’d slapped her. She was taking this personally, and since she was unaware of the backstory, she had every right to feel offended. That didn’t stop me from trying to piece the jigsaw together for her. “This is retribution. This is him trying to get square—”
“Get square over what?” she yelled, exasperated.
“Over everything! The fact that he tried to rape me when I was sixteen. The fact that he carved the word “mine” into my flesh. The fact that he’s been stalking me because he believes I saw—”
“What did you see, Gem?” Mason’s voice startled us both.
I turned quickly, finding him standing in the doorway holding Evie in his arms like she belonged to him. While she happily gooed and gaahed, the threat to her life was very real. Mason was daring me, pushing to see how far I’d go, to see if I would spill his secret. Perhaps this was what it had always been about—testing my commitment.
Evie was only a tiny baby, delicate and petite, compared to the size of Mason’s capable hands. The blood drained from my face, and I felt instantly faint. Gripping the countertop for support, I steadied myself and my line of thought.
“Why are you here, Mason?”
“My relationship with Christina is none of your concern, Gem,” he dismissed as if I was a meddling friend.
“What relationship?” I scoffed. “Just admit this is simply to get back at me.”
“Gemma!” Christina admonished. “That’s an awful thing to say.” Her voice frightened Evie who started to cry, her white cheeks turning a flaming red as she belted out the screams. Christina rounded on me, pulling her daughter from Mason’s arms. For this one action, I was glad. Stepping forward into his space, I could smell his familiar cologne.
“Admit it, Mason,” I said under my breath so only he could hear. “You don’t find it at all coincidental that I walk in on both Joanie and Christina having sex with you? My two closest friends?”
He grinned wide, his handsome face designed to both charm and deceive. “Maybe you need to admit that you have developed a habit of catching me...” his eyes traversed the length of my body and back up to meet my incredulous gaze, “… fucking.”
Repulsed, my hands itched to slap him hard. Instead, I inched closer, my jaw set strong. “Stay away from me, Mason. I’ve kept my word, now you keep yours.”
“Mmm…” He rubbed his jaw, his bicep flexing. “I don’t think you have kept your word, Gem. I think that pretty little mouth of yours…” he reached out and touched a finger to my lips. I jerked my head away, but he wasn’t deterred, “… has been running and telling lies.”
“I haven’t said anything about that night. Those detectives found me. You’ve made yourself a suspect in whatever you have going on because you left town before they came to visit. Now ten years later you decided to show again?”
Mason licked his bottom lip, inching closer to my face, his height intimidating. “What makes you think I haven’t been checking up on you every week over the last ten years?”
It felt like a blow to the gut.
He noticed my visible reaction and continued, “That’s right, Gem. Just because you couldn’t see me doesn’t me I wasn’t seeing you. All… of you.”
“You won’t get away with this, Mason.” I steadied myself. “They believe Luc tipped you off. So, if there’s anyone to blame for the manhunt, it’s yourself.”
“I don’t remember this fiery side of you, Gem.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Maybe we should see just how much fight you have with you under me.”
My gut twisted with pure hatred that festered inside. “Fuck. You!”
Mason laughed, deep and throaty. “Soon, Gem. Be patient.” His patronizing tone was going to see me in a prison cell before him.
“Just stay out my life,” I warned, one last time. “And I’ll make sure everything, including you, stays in the past.” His large frame blocked the door preventing an easy escape. That didn’t stop me. Knocking his shoulder on the way through, I grabbed my handbag from the couch and made my exit, worried I’d vomit on the way out.
I didn’t know what happened to Christina, but I couldn’t stay in her house a second longer with him. He wasn’t going to hurt her or Evie. This was just a game to him. A twisted game of cat and mouse which had served his purpose.
Opening the car door, I threw my bag on the passenger seat with enough force it fell off and landed upturned on the car floor.
Inhaling deeply to calm my rage, I was about to climb in when his voice stopped me.
“And Gem?”
Tapping the door in frustration, I turned reluctantly and met his gaze. He leaned against the front door, jeans hung low on his naked torso. “The past can easily become your future. And I’ll personally make sure it does.”
I swallowed hard, his warning hitting home.
This was never going to end.
Chapter 22
NOW
“Sweet Jesus!” Charlie gasped from his desk, his fingers paused over the keyboard.
“What?” I asked, stopping in my tracks and staring at his frown.
“You look like shit,” he blurted. “I thought your little getaway was meant for relaxation? It looks like a freight train hit you… and then reversed.”
“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically. “Every girl loves to hear that first thing in the morning.”
“Well, I could lie—”
“No,” I interrupted, defeated. “Don’t do that.” I dumped my handbag on one chair and sat on the other. “Talk to me. How did the installation go? Any drama?”
He shook his head. “No drama to speak of. Other than Bernice Thornton scares the living shit out of me. That’s one chica you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.”
“Sounds like I didn’t miss much.”
“Not particularly.” Charlie leaned forward interlacing his fingers, one eyebrow cocked. “But I will let you know that David is on the warpath.”
I dropped my head back and groaned. “Why? What now?”
“Take it as a compliment. He obviously can’t live without you.”
“The feeling is not mutual,” I muttered, annoyed.
Charlie’s eyes glistened with a naughty playfulness. “Pity he’s not gay. Anyway, I’m gladly handing the reins back over to you, because you have way more patience dealing with the nagging human species than what I do.”
“I highly doubt it.” Hooking my handbag, I rose to my feet and headed into my own office, ready to tackle the mounting paperwork.
“Right,” Charlie sounded behind me, a clipboard in hand. “We have a new client who wants on our books.”
“Name?”
“Rufus Harding, with his Reminiscent series.”
“Hmm… get him to send through his portfolio.” I fell into my chair and waited for more.
“The insurance company has called regardi
ng Maximus Kline. They want a written statement from you since you’re the curator. I have all the photos of the damage.”
“Have we heard from Maximus?”
“No, he took what was left that wasn’t damaged and is waiting for his paycheck. Oh!” Charlie squealed causing me to jump. “Your gift.” Dropping the clipboard on the desk with a clatter, he pushed forward a silver wrapped box the size of a Tiffany’s necklace gift.
“You didn’t tear at the corner to get a sneak peek, did you?” It was a light-hearted comment, yet my stomach rolled with anxiety.
“I didn’t, and you’ll never understand the strength it took to not.”
Outside on Charlie’s desk, the phone rang, but he didn’t move.
“You going to get that?” I asked, amused.
“Are you going to see what’s inside?”
“Is the suspense killing you, Charlie?” I smiled playfully.
“Biatch you know it is.”
“Okay then, I’ll see to it soon.”
Charlie inhaled sharply, torn between answering the phone and dealing with me. “You’re a cow!” he scoffed, making a hasty exit before he missed the call. I watched through the glass as Charlie sat at his desk, headset on, flicking through files on his computer while he conversed with the caller. Reluctantly my eyes gravitated to the gift, its obnoxious purple bow making my fingers tap nervously on the table. Its mere presence was offensive, and I had no idea why.
Inhaling sharply, I sat forward.
Exhaling heavily, I stood and rounded the desk, my eyes trained on the gift.
I caressed the soft silkiness of the bow before giving it a gentle pull and unraveling it. Removing the lid, a layer of purple tissue paper covered the contents. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until my head grew faint. There’s something to say about gut instinct, and everything about this ‘gift’ was off.
Carefully moving the paper on either side, I frowned at what I finally saw.
Photos.
“What the hell?” I mouthed, studying those who had been captured without knowledge.
Numb, I flicked through the images of Peter.
Peter kissing a blonde woman on the neck while walking down a street.
Peter feeding the same woman a forkful of dessert in a candlelit restaurant.
Peter kissing the woman in the park, crushing his mouth to hers.
Peter with the mystery blonde naked in a bedroom, straddling his lap, long legs wrapped around his waist, head thrown back in ecstasy.
We need to talk, had been his message.
I could now see why.
After the last photo was a note. Swallowing the bile, I opened it.
You always miss what’s right in front of you.
It wasn’t signed, but I knew who it was from.
Tears of anger more than hurt ran down my cheeks taking turns to drip on the paper. The drops exploded on impact and spread into moisture circles.
Mason’s fascination with my life knew no bounds. He was an unstoppable force.
A voice outside my office stirred me into action. David’s relieved voice edged closer as I hurriedly returned the photos to the box and replaced the lid, my hands trembling and clumsy.
“Gemma,” he called. “You have no idea how much this place has missed you.”
Before I turned, I swiped at my wet cheeks and mustered a smile.
“Thanks for being so understanding,” I said meeting his expectant gaze.
His own smile faded, a frown forming. “Are you crying? You’ve only been back for ten minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” I dismissed. “It’s been a long week.”
“It’s Monday!”
I couldn’t muster the energy to respond, my mind drifting to my current predicament and how I was going to deal with Mason.
His volatile and unpredictable nature.
His insertion back into my life.
His stalking and cruel intentions would only fester if I let it.
And then there was the case of Peter. The trust I had placed in him. The bond we had been forming, or at least I thought we had been forming. All those extended times away were spent with someone else, and most likely were all for pleasure and not the slightest bit for business.
“What’s that?” David gestured to the gift behind me.
“It’s nothing,” I said, moving an inch to the right to block his view.
David stilled, the vein in his neck pulsing. He didn’t take well to being dismissed, and my coldness grated him. My gaze darted around the room, keen to avoid his stare.
“How’s Peter?” he finally asked, and I knew he was taking a stab in the dark. That stab just happened to be on point, puncturing right through the heart.
I swallowed hard and prepared my answer. “Peter is great. Busy with…” fucking his Chicago blonde, “… work. Always busy with work.”
It wasn’t convincing, and I saw an unwanted light of curiosity in his eyes.
“Hmm…” David considered my words for one long moment. I shifted on the spot, uncomfortable with the attention. “It’s fine to have ambition and be focused on success, but one should not be so foolish to neglect a woman.” The small, knowing smile that followed had me wanting to slap it right off his smug face. Yes, David was incredibly handsome. But he was also one cocky son of a bitch.
“Did Charlie tell you about Rufus Harding?” he asked, changing tact.
“Yes, I’ll get onto it straight away,” I said, happy to be moving on with more work and less persistent banter.
“I know it’s short notice, but tonight I need you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I need you to come to dinner with Rufus and me to discuss his installation.”
“Oh,” I replied, steadying my heart rate. “Wouldn’t it better if Rufus came here so he can inspect the space?”
David walked to the door and turned, his fingers drumming on the metal trim. “He’s already been while you were away. Apparently, he has something unique planned for opening night.”
I wasn’t thrilled about doing this, for many reasons. I had the ongoing issue of Mason I was now confident in calling an end to, and Peter’s betrayal couldn’t go without a mention.
The first thing I planned to do once I got home, was collect his belongings and toss them down the chute.
“So, tonight,” David cued. “Cocktail. Eight. At Prima.” With a wink, he left.
Shoulders slumped, I sat on the edge of my desk feeling the snarling lips of defeat creeping closer and closer.
~
Stepping out of the cab running only three minutes late, I smoothed down my black dress and scanned the street. The city was always busy no matter what night of the week it was, and tonight was no different. Prima was an elegant cocktail bar with lush and intimate décor. It was far from a place to do business. The doorman greeted me with a warm smile on approach and held the door open for me to enter. Every table and booth was occupied by groups of young women clinking wine glasses, men charming their way through dates and plying them with alcohol, and then there were the singles dressed to impress and working out a game plan. The lighting was dim, the sweet smell of scented vanilla candles mixed with perfume and cologne wafted past. Behind a couple inching dangerously close to an affair, sat David. Alone.
“Fuck. Me!” I said through gritted teeth. Had David not been my employer, and had I not been reliant on money in order to survive, and perhaps been in a different stage of my life where I didn’t have a cheating boyfriend and psychopath following my every move, I may have actually fancied him.
Sensing my approach, he turned wearing a small smile in greeting.
“Gemma,” he said, his hand at the small of my back pulling me in close to kiss my cheek. It was an intimate gesture for something that was supposed to be just a business meeting. “You look stunning,” he murmured into my ear.
Pulling free from his hold, I feigned a smile. “Where’s Rufus?”
David waved his cell
. “He just texted to say he’s running late.”
“Right, well, I’m going to grab a drink. Top up?” I asked pointing to his almost empty scotch glass.
“No need, I’ve ordered for both of us already. Take a seat.” David gestured to the plush two-seater couch. I sat down and he next to me despite a single seat opposite. His thigh touched mine, his arm running along the back of the chair.
“I’ve gotta say, Gem…” he started, “… the gallery just doesn’t run as smoothly when you’re not there.”
“David—”
“The way you handled the Maximus Kline fiasco…” he exhaled heavily, giving a small shake of the head, “… I didn’t think we’d come out of that alive. But in the end, he only wanted to consult with you.”
Before I could respond in what would only be a lie concerning that very event, the waitress arrived with our wine. We both watched while she placed each on the table in front and left.
Leaning forward, I took my glass and swallowed deeply. When I leaned back, David’s fingers began grazing my skin below my shoulder blade. My heart pounded, and despite squirming under his touch, he continued.
“How are things with Vanessa?” I asked hoping to divert attention off me. He didn’t seem fazed by the question and shrugged his shoulders, fingers still tenderly drawing circles on my back.
“Vanessa and I have each moved on. There’s no point on dwelling on something that isn’t, at the end of the day, functional. You on the other hand…” he smiled, “… I hope Peter treats you… well?”
“As well as I expect. Look, David—”
I was cut short when David’s eyes glanced at something behind me.
“No one told me this was a family business,” an unfamiliar voice suggested. I followed David’s smile and saw who I could only assume to be Rufus. We both stood and shook hands with the artist.
“Rufus, this is Gemma Sinclair,” David introduced, his flat palm placed possessively on my bare back. Inwardly I cringed, but outwardly I wore my most welcoming smile. “Mr. Harding, such a pleasure to meet you and to have you on board.”
“Thank you,” he said warmly, unbuttoning his vest before sitting. “You two make a cute couple.”