I turn and climb into the car, not waiting for a reply. Mason closes the door. The blackout glass allows me to see but not be seen.
Kat stands at the foot of the steps, watching as Mason climbs into the driver’s seat. She’s still there when we drive off.
I drop my head back against the seat and close my eyes, shutting out the world.
Mason and I would usually talk, but today I’m all talked out.
CHAPTER 37
KAT
The weekend is quiet, despite living in a hotel. It’s amazing how quickly you can get used to someone’s presence.
Last night, after leaving the airport, I went straight into the office, but found myself unable to settle. For once, the silence was deafening, my mind needing to question, rehash, and replay the disaster of the past twenty-four hours. So, I returned to the hotel and spent the rest of the evening locked in my suite, rechecking my emails and focusing on financial reports until I finally passed out, when the figures blurred.
Now, on a Sunday, I’m sat on a plush sofa, flipping through an article written about me and the FHG. It’s factually correct, but I’m starting to realise, Jax is right. When I was questioned about what I like to do outside the office, I struggled to answer. My life really is boring.I’m boring.
I throw the magazine to one side and drop my head back against the cushions. It’s time to hit the gym, loosen the tightness that’s settled in my chest and stomach.
The doorbell to the suite sounds.
I get up, my heart stuttering as I look through the peephole.
Closing my eyes, I huff out a breath.
It’s not Jax.
A horrible feeling of not knowing whether to be happy or disappointed floods me.
I really need to get a grip.
Grimacing, I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts of all things Jaxson Lockwood. I inhale and exhale several times before plastering on a smile, and throwing open the door to my best friend.
“We’re going out,” Pen says, sweeping past me and into the suite. “I’m taking it you haven’t eaten yet?”
“Hello to you too,” I say. “And we could eat in.”
Her eyes lock on the large dining table, my computer, and the piles of paperwork surrounding it.
“Nope,thatis enough to give anyone indigestion. We’re definitely eating out,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Get your things. Robin is holding us a table.”
Robin Downsend, owner of Mount Crystals. A high-class restaurant, favoured by celebrities and business people alike. It’s known for its discretion. Each table is spaced perfectly to prevent eavesdropping, making it ideal for private conversations.
I know there is no point arguing, and Pen’s arrival is the perfect distraction.
“Give me time to get changed.”
We makeit to the restaurant in record time. As promised, Robin has reserved our favourite spot.
“How was the trip?” Pen asks after we take our seats.
“Productive,” I say, straightening up my knife and fork.
Silence follows. I look up to find Pen watching me.
“What?” I say.
“You tell me? I know you, Kat Frazer, so don’t pretend that I don’t.”
