* * *
Mase
AmI mad to leave her alone in my home?
I suppose this is one way to test her. Does that make me an ass? I’ve not let a woman sleep in my bed since Cara. I thought I could trust her, but what a piece of work she turned out to be. She was my hardest lesson learnt when it came to the dos and don’ts of casual sex. I should check in on her, make sure she is sticking to our agreement.
The thought of Nina in my home, amongst my things—it shouldn’t feel so right. Something tells me I can trust her, and maybe that makes me a fool, but the primal need to protect her, to fuck her, keep her close, is overwhelming. I didn’t even use a condom.
What was I thinking?
She is fast becoming my only thought, and that’s a dangerous thing, and the fact I’m about to go shopping on a Saturday in central London should tell me all I need to know on the matter.
I sit in my car, considering where I should go. I know what I need. I just don’t know where to start.
I hesitate as my thumb hovers over the contact. Fuck it. I hit call and put the phone to my ear.
“Mr Lowell?”
“Alice, I need your help.”
* * *
Nina
I siton the sofa scrolling through the channels but not paying any mind to what’s on the screen. It’s becoming clear that I don’t like being in this place alone. Maybe it’s because of the first time I was here, or maybe it’s because it’s so big.
Does Mason feel the same way? Being here alone all the time must be awful. What does he do in his spare time?What do you think, stupid?God, he even told me he has sex ‘regularly’. Who brings that shit up straight after sex? How embarrassing.
After getting fed up with the TV, I start to wander around the penthouse. He told me to make myself at home, but it seemed like a rude thing to do.
Boredom won out in the end, and that’s on him. He shouldn’t make me wait.
The rooms are all beautifully decorated, and I’m sure someone has spent hours making it look magazine-worthy. Yet there isn’t anything personal—no photos on the walls. No mess. You wouldn’t know it’s lived in. Like the kitchen, it’s equipped with top of the range appliances, but they look unused.
I come to the only door left at the end of the hall, the one that sits between the gym room and entertainment room.
The catch clicks as I test the handle, and I feel a wave of excitement rush through me. I feel like I’m doing something wrong when I’m not.
Pushing open the door, I find an office.
It’s smaller than I’d expect in comparison to the other rooms. A desk sits in the centre with shelves lining the entire left wall. Some sit empty, and some are filled with books and photos.
I lift a picture frame and smile wide at the image. Charlie, Elliot, Lance and Mason. They sit on the back of a yacht, legs dangling into the infinite blue ocean that lies calm beneath them as the sun sets in the distance.
All four men are completely different in their individual styles and personalities—all equally as hot—it makes me wonder how they met. Lance, although he seems friendly, still confuses me. He’s made it clear that he is just as unsure of me as I am him.
Elliot I can’t even take seriously enough to figure out. And Charlie seems to be the most complex of them all. He seems so closed off yet always aware and watching, he shows a soft side towards me and the girls, and it’s not forced or fake when he asks you a question, he genuinely wants to know.
My eyes find Mason in the picture, the only one I want to understand. I feel like I have so much still to learn about him. I have seen his temper, a switch that goes from a tender sweet man to a dark, brooding beast with little influence. First with his altercation with Joey, then last night when he left to see Scar, and when he came to me at the gym—always so quick on the defence.
Other than his unreasonable, possessive attitude towards me and his need to get his way in every situation so far, I’d say he hides his emotions well. He doesn’t say much with his words. But those moments when we are alone, just the two of us, I see a different man. A tender man.
I drop down into the desk chair and scan the contents. Sat off to the side is another photo, this one of a family, and the resemblance of the father and son uncanny. I reach for it, smoothing my fingers across the polished frame.
This is Mason’s family. His foundations.
They stand outside of a beautiful sprawling home, a tiny baby in the arms of the mother, a young boy standing at his father’s feet, proud hands placed on his son’s shoulders.
