by Anya Summers
“You’re leaving,” he said accusingly, his gaze incensed.
“There’s no point in me staying,” she said, defeat clouding her voice as she grabbed the items from the top of the dresser and dropped them into the nearby suitcase.
“Actually, I have a contract with your signature on it. You can’t leave without a breach of contract. Not to mention your stake in the restaurant, the cooking classes? Those were your ideas and I expect you to see them through to completion,” Mason said with a tick in his clenched jaw. Fury vibrated in his big body.
Like he had a right to that anger. It ignited her own.
“So sue me for breach of contract. I don’t give a damn. Tibby can run the cooking classes. She’s more than competent enough and has the recipes I had planned. As for my stake in the Elkhorn, you can shove it up your ass,” she spat and closed the overfull suitcase on the bed.
Mason stood frozen, his face hard as granite, not giving anything away. He snarled, “You can’t leave. I’m your Dom, dammit, and I forbid it.”
“You forbid it? Fuck you, Mason. And if you even think to lay a finger on me right now, I will scream bloody murder until every guest on the property hears me. Don’t worry, seems to me like you’re able to find replacements easily enough. I’m sure you will land on your feet.” She gestured with a wave toward the door. “Get out. I don’t want to see you. If I meant anything to you, you will do as I ask you for once and leave me be.”
“Em,” he said, approaching her.
She backed up a step and held up her hand to stop him. If he touched her, she would cave. She shook her head. “We’re done, Mason. I don’t want your excuses or your apologies. I want you out of my life. Understood?”
His face shuttered and closed down. “Why won’t you hear me out? Tell me that, at least. You owe me that,” he said.
“I don’t owe you a thing. You want to know why? Because I’m tired of being used. I’m tired of being lied to.”
“But I—”
“Do you know why I left La Vida? Why I flipped out on Chef Ormond in public? I showed you the video of me cursing him out in the dining room. But you never stopped to ask yourself why. Chef Ormond pretended to be my family. Pretended that the ideas I had for La Vida were valid. Discussed them with me, let me develop new dishes and revolutionize La Vida. I helped turn it back into a premiere establishment. The night we had critics come to test out the new menu, he never even mentioned me. I slaved to bring that restaurant back from the brink, to bring Ormond back from mediocrity, and he stole my work. Lied to the press that those were his latest creations.
“So you’ll forgive me if I don’t buy what it is you’re selling here, Mason. You should have told me, should have been honest with me from the start. Your silence, that you could omit something that big, especially once I let you in, let you touch me…” She wrapped her arms around her torso. Tears fell unheeded.
“Emily, I’m your Dom. You belong to me,” he said, gripping her biceps.
“You lied to me. And then there’s the fact that you can’t see we’re supposed to belong to each other. That’s what a real relationship is—where we tell each other things, like ‘oh, hey, so funny story, the chef that embezzled those funds I told you about, we were an item and she stole money from my business right beneath my nose.’ I’ve been nothing but open and honest with you, but I cannot abide liars.”
“I never lied.”
“You omitted the truth. Same difference. You never let me in. Now, take your hands off me. You lost the right to touch me when you couldn’t respect me enough to tell me the truth.”
“Emily, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“You were right. We don’t belong in each other’s worlds,” she said. “Just go, Mason. If you have any feelings for me at all, please respect me enough to leave me be. I don’t want to see anymore. You’re not my Dom. I don’t belong to you.”
He flinched at her words. They stood like two wary boxers in a ring, awaiting the bell for the final knock out round. Then he nodded. His expression, which had held such tenderness not an hour ago, was hard as stone.
“Where will you go?” he asked.
“That’s no longer your concern now, is it?”
Then Mason strode out of her cabin without a backward glance. He slammed the door behind him. It shuddered on its hinges. Emily’s knees finally gave out and she slid into a heap on the floor. She’d finish packing in just a minute. When she could breathe again.
Chapter 25
After a sleepless night at the hotel she’d found in downtown Jackson last night, Emily had reached some conclusions. She loved it here in Jackson and didn’t want to leave. Just because it hadn’t worked out with Mason and the lodge didn’t mean there weren’t other restaurants in the area that could use her expertise. Although that may take some time. So what she needed was a job in the meantime.
Emily didn’t want to involve Tibby or Faith, as much as she adored them. Cole was out because of his allegiance to his brother and the lodge. But there was one person she’d met since she’d moved here whom she knew she could count on.
After a brief shower and room service breakfast, she headed out with a destination in mind. The double doors with the cowboy on the bucking bronco actually brought a smile to her lips. It was familiar.
Emily stepped inside the Teton Cowboy and approached the hostess, Paige.
“Is he in?” Emily asked, her hands clenched at her sides. If this didn’t work, she’d have to rethink her game plan.
Paige nodded and said, “Yes, let me get him for you.”
Emily said, “You’re busy and I know the way to his office. It’s urgent and private.” She blinked back the sudden onslaught of moisture.
Paige looked at her with sympathy in her chocolate gaze. She waved her along and said, “Okay, go on back.”
Emily walked through the Teton Cowboy, ignoring the entrance to Cuffs & Spurs. It made her heart ache just thinking about it. But it would get better, given time. Maybe, eventually, she could go back there and not feel like her heart was being ripped from inside her chest.
At the closed door to Spencer’s office, she inhaled a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in,” Spencer said.
Emily pushed the door open. He was reclining in his leather chair, studying a folder in his hand. He wasn’t dressed in business attire today but jeans and a black tee that was molded to his broad chest.
He raised a dark brow when he spied her and smiled. “Emily, didn’t expect to see you here. I figured you still be in bed after yesterday. Great job, by the way. Have a seat.”
She closed the door behind her and did as he asked. Her stomach was clenched in knots.
“What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you had any positions for a cook. The temporary run with the Elkhorn isn’t going to work after all, and I just need something, anything will do, until another job opens up,” she said, fighting back tears.
“Why isn’t the lodge going to work out?” Spencer asked, his gaze holding hers like he was attempting to divine all of her secrets. The problem was, if she gave him full disclosure, she’d turn into a weeping mess again.
She shook her head, trying to clear the moisture entering her field of vision, and glanced down at her lap. “It’s just not the right fit. But I’d like to stay in Jackson and to do that, I need a job. And a place to live. If you know of any short-term rentals that aren’t too pricey, I’d appreciate the referral, as well.”
“Well, this is rather unexpected,” Spencer replied.
Emily steeled herself, then lifted her head to see Spencer’s black gaze studying her.
He continued, “I thought you and Mason were an item. He claimed you as his submissive the other night in the club. I’m surprised he let you leave.”
“We aren’t anything to each other. He doesn’t own me,” she said, fighting the sudden onslaught of tears.
“But you love him,” Spencer stated. The kindness in his eyes was almost t
oo much. Emily winced. Were her feelings for Mason that obvious? Because it was true. She did love him, with everything she had. Which was why she felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest.
She replied, “It doesn’t matter the way I feel. It’s done. Do you have a job for me in your kitchens or not? Because if not, I need to find something, anything will do at this point. I can’t go back to Los Angeles.”
“If it’s money you need, I can get you a loan.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t do loans. I earn my way or not at all.”
Spencer’s gaze never wavered, his eyes seemed to catch every flicker of emotion. Then he said, “I could use an extra line cook. It’s nothing fancy. Not what you’re used to, of course, but it should help until you can find another position as head chef. Here in Jackson that shouldn’t be hard if you’re intending to stay.”
Her shoulders relaxed and the knot of worry unclenched in her chest. “Thank you, Spencer. I appreciate it.”
“You don’t have any idea where you plan to stay? Where are you staying now?” he asked.
“At the Rotunda Inn, for now. That’s the next thing on my agenda. If you know of a place that’s not sleazy and relatively reasonable price-wise, I’d be in your debt,” she said. She wanted something quaint that didn’t cost more than she wanted to spend.
“Come with me,” Spencer ordered, standing up from his desk.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see. Just come with me,” he repeated, brooking no room for argument. As he would be her new boss, she didn’t argue. She didn’t have the heart or the energy. If she pissed him off, her situation could become precarious. No job, no money, no place to live and she’d have to crawl back to Los Angeles where her parents would say I told you so.
Her stomach churned in dread at the thought.
She followed him past the kitchen and storage areas to a set of stairs that led to a second floor. She followed him up, curious where he was taking her. At the entrance, there was a keypad lock that he punched a code into and then opened the heavy wooden door.
Her jaw dropped as she stepped inside. It was elegant and modern, all sleek lines. Not much to the color scheme, shades of gray and ivory. She turned in a circle in the entryway. The hardwood floors were nearly black in color, with slate-colored walls and white trim. “What is this place?”
“My home. It’s where I live.” He shrugged, heading down the hall. She stood stock still. He didn’t expect her to sleep with him, did he?
He shot a bemused glance at her over his shoulder, like he knew precisely what she was thinking, and said, “Relax. I don’t ever sleep with the help.”
Curious at what he wanted to show her, she trailed after him. He stopped at a closed door. Gripping the handle, he shoved it open and walked inside. Emily had no choice but to follow him. It was a richly furnished bedroom in neutral colors. It was roughly the size of the one she had at the cabin. More than enough space. He said, “It’s not overly large, but you would have your own bathroom, access to the kitchen, and living room. But my private suite of rooms are off-limits.”
“Is that where you hide the bodies?” she asked.
Spencer chuckled. “Among other things. I’ll program a code for you at the door, that way you don’t need a key and you can stay here, temporarily, until you figure something out.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, amazed at his generosity and kind offer. He was going to let her stay here until she got back on her feet.
“You’re one of us, a member of our club—and we take care of our own,” he said with a shrug, as if that should explain everything.
“Thank you. You don’t have to do this, but I will take it.”
“Good. Now, let me go program that code and then I have a million things to do. You start on Monday. That should give you the day to pack your stuff from the Rotunda Inn and get yourself moved in here,” Spencer said. “Oh, and one more thing, here’s my number, program it in your phone and I will text you the code. Don’t share it with anyone. I’ll get it to you within the hour. There’s parking around the back of the building for employees where you can park your car. The key code I’m programming for you will let you into the parking lot as well.”
“Yes, Sir. I will,” she said. After thanking Spencer again, Emily left the Teton Cowboy. This was good. A positive development. She didn’t have to go slinking back to California a failure.
Emily just had to survive. Pretend like her heart wasn’t slowly bleeding out.
Chapter 26
Mason spent the following week leading extra guided walking tours booked last minute that Cole wasn’t able to cover since he was on an overnight fishing excursion. He was glad for the chance to get away from the lodge. It gave him the chance to mull over the fight he and Emily had had on Saturday night.
There was no way around it. He’d fucked up. Big time.
Only he had no idea how to go back and fix it. How could he explain that Claire hadn’t meant anything to him? Not in the way Emily did. Claire had been fun. She’d revved his engines and he couldn’t deny that when they’d been an item, he’d enjoyed her charms. He was a guy and had been unattached. He shouldn’t be lambasted because he had a past.
And while he admitted he hadn’t told Emily that he and Claire had been an item, there had never been a chance.
Although that wasn’t true. He’d had chances aplenty. But any time he’d considered telling her, Emily would smile at him—or, in her case, snap at him—and he’d been a goner, more concerned with feeling her beneath him, feeling her unravel, watching her startled shock as he pushed her boundaries.
The first group he led was a family of five who were overzealous hikers. Brian and Mary Shannon with their kids; Joe, Katie, and Charlie—all teenagers who were not necessarily happy at the forced activity. They got along well enough, but by the time the hike was finished for the day, their Subaru putting the lodge in its rearview mirror, Mason had been exhausted.
Instead of calling Emily, he’d trudged home, showered, and cooked a frozen pizza for dinner. While normally he would have been more than satisfied with the pizza, it couldn’t hold a damn candle to Emily’s handmade confections. In the weeks she’d been around, he’d begun to look forward to and count on her buttermilk biscuits for breakfast and having that day’s special for dinner.
The following day he had an all-day trail hike with a group of ten. Five couples in their late thirties to early forties who had all been friends since college and liked to meet for a reunion every other year. It was a simple excursion on a moderately difficult trail.
Again, by the time he’d made it home after the hike, he’d simply poured himself into bed and not moved until the next morning.
So the week had sped by and he’d yet to speak to Emily. He’d tried calling her a dozen times but she was avoiding his calls. Fuck, he’d missed her in his bed, which was a new sensation. He’d never missed a woman before. Never thought he would want a woman in his bed permanently.
But there you had it. Mason wanted Emily back. Had realized too damn late that he loved her.
And he had no experience in trying to win a woman back. He’d never lacked for a bed partner at the club. Usually the subs were lined up and he could take his pick. He had enjoyed the submissives at the club—and they him.
In the past, if things had gotten too serious or taken on a hefty weight of responsibility, he’d been the one to cut ties. Cole had been correct when he’d said that Mason didn’t do permanence. But that was before Emily.
She made him want things, stuff he had never considered until now. Like building a family, longevity and, yes, permanence. And, for the first time, his balls didn’t shrivel up at the thought.
Even though he was swamped with paperwork that he’d not been able to tackle this week because of his tours, Emily was never far from his mind.
He contacted his lawyer, Kent O’Brien, to check and see if the plea deal Claire had me
ntioned was accurate. Considering the way that bitch had deceived him, Mason wouldn’t be able to celebrate until he was certain it was official.
“Mason, I’m glad you called. I just finished speaking with the prosecuting attorney’s office. Claire was correct in that her attorney did work out a plea bargain agreement where she will get six months of house arrest, then five years’ probation to be served out of the State of New York, and will not see the inside of a prison cell if the restitution is paid in full. Her attorney, a Dan Fogler out of Manhattan—real asshole, too, if you want my opinion—confirmed that the check is real and legitimate.”
Mason relaxed. There was an unclenching in his gut and he took a deep breath. “What are the steps we need to take to get this resolved? I’m fine with her plea deal if all the money she stole is repaid in a lump sum.”
“Well, there are a few stipulations we should add. Her attorney has an addendum he wants you and Cole to sign that basically states you aren’t going to try and sue her for civil damages.”
“It would serve her right if we did,” Mason muttered.
“If you want to go that route, I don’t blame you. Personally, I would. But working in this business, I’m a bit more vindictive than you. However, if we do, it could take you longer to get the restitution money.”
He grimaced. While everything they had done to save the lodge had worked and would keep this place chugging along through the end of the year, the thought of not being able to give Christmas bonuses to their employees who tended to count on those at the end of the year rubbed Mason the wrong way. Had Claire dinged his pride and hurt him with her actions? Absolutely. Was he going to be a dick about it and go after her for more? No.
It wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth continuing this saga. He wanted her out of his life for good.
“No, Kent. I think, at the end of the day, Cole and I would just like it done as quickly as possible. I do want a stipulation that she is prohibited from setting foot on any and all lodge property. I don’t want her within five hundred feet of it at the minimum. She is not to engage in any contact with myself or Cole. I also want an NDA that states she cannot talk about the lodge, its inner workings, or the people here—or even mention this place, or we will sue the fucking pants off her.”