by JC Hawke
My hands shake from the shock.
I’m standing in my thong when Henry comes back in, but I don’t overthink it—he is like a brother to me. I take the cold cloth he hands me and plaster it to my stomach, where the burning is more intense. He squats down in front of me, ripping open the gel packet and squirting it onto my leg. It runs down my thigh, instantly melting against the heat. My hand dashes out to rub it into the skin.
“How do you fucking manage it, girl?” Henry says, shaking his head at me.
I smile down at him, feeling like a complete klutz.
“What the fuck is going on?” Mason’s voice has me jumping back, my skin prickling at his tone.
Shit.
“I burnt myself. Henry was just helping me.” I try to explain, but I can see the rage as it visibly builds within him.
“Who’s this?” Henry asks, standing at his full six foot two height. He’s big for a twenty-three-year-old. Mason only has an inch on him.
“Her boyfriend,” Mason announces, completely losing his cool—and maybe his mind.
Boyfriend?
He grasps Henry by his vest, pulling him away from me. “Get the fuck away from her.” His eyes blaze over my semi-naked form.
God, this must look awful.
“Mason, calm down. And let go of him.” I try to defuse the situation, but it’s a task when I’m trying to hide from the prying eyes that watch on through the open door.
Gemma steps into the room, spotting Mason and Henry in a standoff as they both grasp one another’s tops.
“What on earth? Henry, stop!” she demands.
Henry eyes her for a second, then reluctantly pushes Mason back with force, removing his hand from his gym vest when Mason doesn’t let go.
“Stupid prick. She burnt herself,” Henry spits out.
Mason looks at me and the red creeping over my thigh and stomach. It’s not as bad as I first thought, but that’s only thanks to Henry’s quick thinking.
“Guys, can you give us a minute?” I ask.
Henry frowns, giving me a ‘are you kidding me’ look.
“Of course! Henry.” Gemma pulls her man from the staff room by the wrist, closing the door to allow me a scrap of dignity.
“Mason, I bur—”
“Don’t,” he cuts me off, shaking his head. “Nina, you’ve kept me away all week, and then I come here and find you like this. I need a minute.”
I wince, trying to tame the words before they leave me. “Uh, maybe I need a goddamn minute.” I take a deep breath through my nose. “I burnt myself, Mason, you insensitive ass! What are you even doing here, anyway?”
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Let me see.” He nods to my leg.
“No.”
He sniggers, running his tongue across his teeth. “I will pick you up when you’re finished here.”
I let him leave. If that man thinks that I will be going with him tonight after the way he just reacted, he is sorely mistaken. God, it’s Henry. Does he not have any female members of staff? The thought makes me rage. Of course, he fucking does. I bet the place is crawling with women.
It gives me an idea.
I hobble to my bag and pull out the outfit I brought to wear to dinner with the girls tonight. It’s casual but sexy. I pull the dark burgundy skirt up over my hips and high on my waist, my cropped white singlet moulds to my breasts.
It’s been a week, and I am more than ready to take on Mason Lowell.
Thankfully the girls are understanding. I had to send them home after the soup disaster, so I promised to work an extra day to cover their class fee to keep them happy.
I did my research, and if my Google Maps is correct, I should be at Ellis and Frey Real Estate within twenty minutes by foot.
I glance down at my feet, knowing it will take me twice as long in my heels, and instead, I call Vinny.
“Miss Anderson, I wasn’t expecting you to call. How can I help you?”
“Hey! I need a lift. If you are free, of course. And I can’t tell you any more than that because I don’t trust you.”
“Well, I should inform you that I sided with you this afternoon. I drove Mason to the studio,” he says, and I can tell he is smiling.
“What a queen, huh?”
He chuckles down the line. “What are you planning, Nina?”
“I’m on my way to his office... I was hoping for a ride.”
“That’s not a good idea, Nin—”
“Vinny, you can drive me, save my feet, and I will love the hell out of you for it, or you can let your boss know I’m on my way and ruin the element of surprise. Either way, I am going with or without you. I won’t cause a scene, I promise.”
“Just wait there. I will be five minutes.” he relents.
13
Nina
The Montwell building sits proudly among the skyscrapers in London’s financial district; its impressive structure flouting high up in the clouds. I watch in awe as people breeze through the revolving doors, going about their business almost robotically.
Why so serious?
“Here, you will need this,” Vinny interrupts my trance, handing me a plastic card. “Tell reception I sent you, you won’t be on any list. I can’t promise they won’t call up.”
I squeeze his shoulder, giving him a warm smile. “Thanks, Vinny. You don’t want to come up with me, some moral support?”
He shakes his head. “I did my bit. You’re on your own now, love.”
I roll my eyes. “Stay close by, I might need a lift in five.”
He turns in his seat, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You said you wouldn’t cause a scene.”
“You said you were taking us to The Pearl,” I throw back at him with a shrug.
“Touché.”
My confidence takes a nosedive the moment I step into The Montwell. I look down at myself, pulling at my crop top to hide the slither of exposed skin at my ribs. Determined to follow through with my vaguely thought-out plan, I pull back my shoulders and carry on forward, my heels clicking on the sparkling floor seemingly much louder than the other women’s in the foyer.
Eight large pillars line the long walkway, leading to a bank of elevators, where security guards stand on each door with scanners in their hands. I take a deep breath and make my way to the large desk that sits in the centre of the room.
“Hello, can I help you?” a kind-looking woman asks.
“Yes, hi. I’m here to see Mas—Mr Lowell,” I correct. “I have this.” I hand over the lanyard. “Vinny sent me.”
She smiles, taking the card. “Of course. Can you just sign in here, and I will call up?”
“No,” I panic, and her hand freezes on the phone. “Uh, I was hoping to surprise him. I’m his girlfriend.”
“I can’t allow anyone up without calling through first.”
“But I wanted to surprise him.” I pout my lips, not enough to look bratty but enough to make her feel bad.
She chews on the side of her cheek, unsure. “Where is Vinny now?”
“In the car.” I turn and look back through the foyer, trying to see if he is outside.
“I saw him pull up before,” she tells me. “If you didn’t have Vinny’s card I wouldn’t let you up.” She nods to the elevators, smiling. “Go.”
“Thank you so much!”
“If you get me fired.” She laughs, shaking her head
“Then we’ll blame Vinny.” I wink, rounding the desk and walking over to the elevators.
I stop to show my card to the guard, and he gives me a nod. I step inside and wait for the doors to close, and as the doors begin to slide shut, my brain decides to backtrack. My palms feel damp, and my legs don’t feel like my own. What am I doing?
The lift continues to rise for what feels like forever. It has me panicking that it could be broken, but once we hit the seventy-eighth floor, it slows, and the doors slide open. I pull back my shoulders and draw in a deep breath as I step out, knowing that if I stop to think about how
I look or if I should even be here, then I will end up leaving.
The reception area is clinical with stark white minimalistic furniture. It’s how I imagined it to be, but it also isn’t. Maybe I am naive and sheltered, but this isn’t the norm. Mason has a lot of money.
I move my eyes from the small seating area, and oh, what would you know, females. Two women sit behind a tall multi-levelled desk. I can only make out their heads from here, but they seem to be engrossed in something in front of them, laughing loudly with one another.
I use the opportunity to quickly scan the area, sussing out where Mason’s office would be. I’m presuming it’s behind the glass wall at my left, and going with my gut, I stalk towards the door.
“Excuse me!” they shout.
I turn towards the reception desk, the two women now glaring at me. They’re both beautiful and immaculately dressed—it does not surprise me one bit.
“You’re not going in there.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t need an appointment, I will just be a minute.” I smile, trying to keep them on the side. I can see them both judging me with their catty stares.
“Mr Lowell is busy, and he doesn’t have any time in his schedule today. You will have to leave, or I will call security.” She raises a perfectly sculpted brow, looking down her nose at me.
I walk over and show her the card Vinny gave me, and as if they planned it, they turn to each other and laugh in unison.
“Hey, nice bracelet. I did okay with that one, huh? The other things not quite to your fancy, princess? I don’t get paid to run around London after you but don’t sweat it; Mason makes it well worth my while.” She lifts the phone to her ear. “Security.”
Hurt rips through me as the realisation of her words sink in.
This woman bought this?
Was she with him on Saturday?
Bile rises in my throat, but I force it down on a deep swallow, not allowing her to see my reaction. It’s what she wants.
“That won’t be necessary, Amber.” Elliot’s voice rings out behind me, barely registering past the whirling in my ears.
He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side.
“It’s Alice,” she corrects.
“It’s irrelevant,” he states, sounding every bit the boss he dresses to be. “Add Miss Anderson to the list. She can come up here anytime she likes.”
They look at me dumbfounded, both of their eyes pinching in the corners as Alice starts tapping on her keyboard.
“You going in, Pixie?” Elliot says, directing me away from the desk. “Lowell didn’t mention you were coming.”
“He doesn’t know. He came to my studio and started a fight with one of my staff. I thought I’d come and prove a point.” I nod towards the reception desk.
“Ah, calling him out on his bullshit again. You know I think he likes it. Those gifts you had sent back.” He laughs, but it just makes me even madder now that I know he didn’t buy them himself.
With the fire raging in my gut, I step out from under Elliot’s arm.
“I’m right behind ya,” he tells me, trailing behind.
The glass double doors vibrate off of the rubber stoppers, drawing every eye in the room to me. “Gentlemen,” I greet them all as I fling the bracelet from my fingers. It bounces across the carpeted floor and knocks into Mason’s perfectly polished shoe.
“Nina, what are you doing here? Montgomery?” He looks to Elliot then back to me.
“What, I can’t just drop in and see my boyfriend?” I say with as much contempt as I can muster.
I look to the other men in the room as I try to remain in control. They all sit with curious expressions on their faces—Lance and Charlie both among them.
What on earth am I doing?
This was a bad idea.
“We will give you a minute,” Charlie says, standing and leaving the room with the five other suits and Elliot.
“You’ve slept with your receptionist?” I ask once the room is cleared.
“No,” he answers far too quickly.
“Oh, it wasn’t a question,” I snap, walking closer to him. “I’ve never slept with Henry, or Logan, or anyone on the ‘regular’ for that matter. Yet you turn up to my studio and act like a jealous behemoth over someone I see like a brother—”
“Nina—”
“You took someone you fuck to buy gifts for the woman you’re fucking?” I can see the tic in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, but he doesn’t answer me. “That was a fucking question, Mason!”
He bends, picking up the bangle from the floor. I don’t like to think how much it cost. “I picked this out for you, Nina, not her.”
“Oh, well good job, what do you want? A gold star? Or maybe your cock sucked? I can ask your receptionist if she is free.” I thumb towards the door.
“Stop!” he barks, cutting me off.
I know I’ve pushed him, and the stance he takes as he steps up in front of me has my shoulders dropping a fraction.
Why do I feel so stupid?
“I haven’t slept with anyone since the night I met you.” He puts his hands on his hips, not knowing what to do with them.
I roll my eyes, but the relief his words bring me puts out a portion of the fire in my gut. The office doors open, but neither of us turn to look at who has entered.
This entire plan of mine has backfired.
“Security is on the way. I’m so sorry.”
Mason’s eyes bore into mine, and the dangerous glint in them has my throat tightening. “You’re fired, effective immediately.”
“What?!” she shouts. “You can’t fire me!”
“Mason,” I warn.
“Leave. Take your stuff and go,” he tells her, his eyes still trained on me.
I look at the girl, who now has tears brimming in her eyes. “Just give us a minute, okay?”
She gives me a death stare, squeaks out a sound that a three-year-old might make over a hairy lollipop, then runs from the room.
“You can’t just fire people for no reason. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You said we were starting fresh, and you’re right, she had to go,” he says, dropping his eyes down my body.
“It’s her job, her living, Mason. You can’t take that away from her because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
“I just did,” he says matter of fact. “Turn around.”
“No.”
He grabs my waist and spins me. I hear the zip of my skirt, and then it pools to the floor. “If you think you can tame me with your mouth right now, you’re going to be in for a shock. You’re having a mare today, Bossman.”
When he turns me back around, he is on his knees, his sole focus on my leg. “It’s still red.” He leans in, softly running his lips across the pink flesh. “I shouldn’t have left before,” he mutters, and I can see he is at war with himself, his features tightening as his eyes roam.
“It doesn’t even hurt now. Henry got the first aid kit pretty fast.” Not being able to deny him the contact, I reach out, running my hand through his hair.
It’s been over a week. I’ve missed him.
“It doesn’t hurt?” He looks up at me.
I shake my head, smiling at his blatant worry. I didn’t expect coming here to end like this. If he’d shown this concern at the gym and not caused a scene, none of this would have happened.
He is right, though, after everything from last week and the fact I really do want a fresh start, maybe the receptionist did need to go. She wasn’t exactly welcoming, and how would I feel knowing she worked so closely with him every day?
“So. My boyfriend?” I question, looking down at him.
“That’s what I said.”
“Just like that, you’re not going to ask me?”
He stands, running his hands up the backs of my thighs as he moves. He lifts me, bringing my legs around his waist as he carries me to his desk, then sits me on the edge.
He drops into the
chair in front of me. “I’ve dreamt about having you on this desk,” he mutters, running his hands up my thighs.
I look down at the desk as a thought crosses my mind, making me frown. Has he had her on this desk? I slip from the edge and stand in front of him, not liking the way that thought makes me feel.
“Have you had sex on your desk before?” I whisper, staring at his chest, too afraid to give him my eyes.
He doesn’t say anything, and I’m glad I didn’t see his reaction. I swallow hard as he stands, towering over me. “Nina.” He cups my face, and for no reason I can explain. Tears spring to my eyes. “Nina, I’ve never had sex in my office.”
My glassy eyes lift to his, and I hope he can’t see the emotion in them.
“I may have blurred lines with my staff at the end of a day, but never here, I promise.”
I lean into him, unsure as to why I feel so emotional. His woodsy smell makes me heady. “Sorry, for turning up here,” I say into his crisp white shirt, probably getting my foundation all over it. “Are you actually going to fire her?”
“Yes, she isn’t even that good.” I frown, pulling away from him. “What? No, I mean at her job, not… Jesus, Nina.” He pulls me back to him, and I let him.
“Can’t you just put her in a different role? One where she isn’t around you so much.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
I don’t want to be responsible for someone losing their job. I know how hard it is to find work in the city.
But I also know that he won’t back down and I have to let it go. For now.
“I’m glad you turned up.” He kisses my temple. “Although you did kick out my entire financial and legal team.” He chuckles into my hair.
I groan, “How embarrassing.”
“I was pissed until you declared yourself as mine.” He palms my ass. “My fiery, little Pixie.”
“Why do you call me Pixie? Is it because I’m so short?”
“No, baby, not because you’re short.” He laughs then changes the subject. “My dad, he has invited me to dinner tomorrow, asked if I’d like to bring anyone.”
He doesn’t say any more, and I lean my head back a little to see his face, his arms still locked tight around my shoulders, keeping me held to him.