“Your own terms?” I wonder why I am even doing this when I should really be kicking off about him picking me up, fucking me and then returning to his wife.
“Yes, Olivia, my own terms, which essentially consisted of finding you, seeing you and making you listen.”
“Your terms haven’t changed then.” My curt reply makes Mason smile at me which annoys and warms me at the same time.
“I handled things really badly,” he admits, “and for that I am really, really sorry.”
He stares at me, seemingly waiting for something from me but I am unsure what. Does he want me to tell him it’s okay, or accept some responsibility? The idea of that pisses me off sufficiently that I am up on my feet to respond.
“Well, as apologies go that was fairly shit, but if it makes life easier then I accept it. So, if you could unlock the door,” I say, curter than previously.
“What? No!”
My irritation is accelerated further as I assume he is correcting my mistake that he is apologising in any way.
“Open the door, now!” I shout.
“No, you need to listen,” he demands of me.
I charge to the door even though I know it’s locked.
“Fuck you,” I yell as I do battle with the locked door.
“You’ve already done that, darling!” he spits at me and the combination of the disgust I detect in his voice at the fact that I’ve already fucked him coupled with the disgust I feel for myself and the darling has me reeling, physically and emotionally.
I am unsure if it is me or the room that begins to spin but there is no mistaking who is beside me, holding me, rocking me until I am calmer.
“Can we start again?” he asks, “with everything?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s anything to start again with,” I admit, making Mason frown as he guides me back to the sofa where he takes a seat next to me.
“Okay, let me clarify.”
Chapter 11
Mason
At least she is calmer now and allowing me to speak. I need to explain everything to her and make her understand that we do have something to start again with. There must be more to this than a one-night stand, the most casual of encounters or neither of us would be here, would we?
“Right. When I first saw you dancing downstairs the other night, I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Like I have never been drawn to anyone in my life.”
“Not even your wife?” she asks and although the degree of her annoyance is clear I want to laugh because if that is an issue for her she knows we have something here.
“Arianna is not my wife. She was, she’s my ex-wife, has been for over three years, but we work well together. She is my right arm, in business.” I terminate Arianna’s plaudits for fear of sounding too enthusiastic about her. “Only in business. We were married for two years and dated for a year before that. She is married to someone else now and is happy, we both are.”
“Oh.” Her beautiful mouth remains in a perfect ‘O’ that has my mind thinking of all kinds of reasons for her to make that shape.
“What you heard was Arianna making an ironic, sarcastic joke, no, not even a joke. She was, in an attempt to force me not to dismiss what we could have been, trying to paint the worst possible picture of what could happen if we were to see where this attraction between us might lead and finished off with a warped compliment for herself.”
“Oh,” she repeats with another ‘O’.
“So, when you ran, I understood why. I wanted to explain it to you, but you nobbled security, so I was left in Sarah’s hands and here we are. Arianna really was actually trying to make me see what we could have.”
“Why me? You could have anyone you want, so why me?”
I’m taken aback a little as I realise her question is completely genuine. She really does not know just how beautiful she is, perfect even.
“I hope that’s true because I want you,” I tell her seriously. “I don’t know why I was so attracted to you, not beyond the physical side of things because you really are very beautiful.”
