“Well bully for you,” I say with a very immature pout. God, he really is an arsehole.
Mason is looking down at me mildly amused as he sighs. “I thought we’d have kids before I was refereeing adolescent, sulky arguments.”
I am stunned because he has just said about us having children. We have never discussed children or permanence in terms of our relationship although we are clearly in a serious relationship. He hasn’t even said that he loves me, and I haven’t told him that I love him either, other than the clumsy falling in love comment the other day. Oh shit, I love him. I properly, in love, forever and ever love him. I am stunned, but not as stunned as Christian whose face looks as though he may vomit.
He has just realised that he hasn’t just pissed off Mason, a relative of sorts and a significant investor in his company, but he has pissed off Mason, my boyfriend, at the expense of the woman he loves, the woman he sees as the future mother to his children, not his latest shag piece as he’d suspected.
“Olivia,” Mason says possibly not for the first time.
“Sorry,” I say, still stunned. “Is there a point to this?”
“Yes,” Mason replies. “Christian is an idiot by refusing to employ you as a designer, however as I stipulated that you should do the work on my office the cost of that will now be redirected to you in the form of a consultancy fee which is also the case for my mother’s sun room.”
I open and close my mouth, unsure what to say in response because as much as I want to refuse the offer, I need the work and the cash. Plus, it is yet another wonderful opportunity I am being offered, again by Mason.
“I may stipulate that you do not take on any further private consultancy and design work for persons from my current client base,” Christian says, and I am confused by his words, but clearly not Mason who laughs darkly.
“Like fuck you will. You are not compromising her career any further than you already have and if my mother and I are the persons you are referring to I will tell you now that any further design work for me will be going through my girl first and as for my mother, that choice will be hers. Although as you only see Olivia as a receptionist, she can probably agree to not taking on any private consultancy work as a receptionist for existing clients.”
If we were alone and Mase had just called me his girl I would be straddling his lap and kissing him, a lot. The butterflies in my chest at those two words,my girlare doing loop the bloody loops.
“Then maybe I won’t be putting any consultancy work Olivia’s way,” Christian threatens.
“Fine.” Mason is beyond confident. “I’ll call Michaels.”
“Do you really think he’ll side with you, my father-in-law? It’s not like you and he have ever been that close, even when he was married to Charlotte,” Christian says, shocking me with this information because even though I worked for Peterson Michaels I had no idea that they were related. They never acted like they had anything resembling a relationship that wasn’t business, so add to that the fact that Michaels was married to Mason’s mother, that he was his stepfather, I am quietly stunned.
“Grow up, Christian. Nathan and I were not close as stepson and father, but in business he is sensible enough to know that pissing you off and possibly Imelda is far less risky than pissing me off, especially if I decide that my fifty-one percent stake in Peterson Michaels is no longer something I want to maintain. So is your offer to Olivia happening or not?”
“Yes,” my former boss says with a pout of his own.
“I will have the contract drawn up today and couriered over for your signature,” Mason says, already on his feet to escort Christian to the door.
“Goodbye Olivia,” he says and leaves.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” I tell Mason seriously when he returns to where I am sitting. He simply shrugs pulling me to stand before him.
“Did you sleep well?” His arms immediately slide around my waist.
“I missed you this morning. I don’t like a bed to myself.” My admission making him smile as I place my hands flat against his body, appreciating the firmness of his chest beneath his shirt. “What?” I ask when he quirks an eyebrow.
“I think we both know what you missed.” He laughs and then stiffens beneath my touch and although I don’t want to believe it, I think I know what his problem is. It’s me and my past, specifically the abuse I suffered at the hands of Raymond and Doctor Mathers.
“Do not do this to me,” I plead. “I am the same person I was before Mathers was arrested, before I opened up to you completely and if you change towards me, he has won again, him and Raymond. Please, Mason, don’t let them beat me again.”
I am crying as the final words leave my mouth because I also know that if he does do this we are done and my forever love and future baby Hardings I didn’t realise I wanted are gone and I will be broken beyond repair, more so than I ever was at the other men’s hands.
He rubs a hand over his chin. “It’s not what you think.”
“What is it then?” I ask, not entirely convinced by him or his protest.
“I admit that when you first told me everything, I was shocked, absolutely stunned, but I never thought badly of you, not for a second. I can’t deny that I want to handle you carefully, with kid gloves. Instinctively, I do worry that when we’re together I might do something that makes you think of them, but I can also logically acknowledge those things and get beyond them.”
“What. Is. It. Then?” I repeat, punctuating each word of my question.
“I love you,” he says and with three little words I am crying again, good, happy tears. “I knew I was becoming very fond of you and all your funny little ways; the smart-arse mouth, the knowledge of superheroes, the sex, but it was more. Every text message from you makes me happier than I have any right to be, I find your snoring endearing rather than irritating, your laugh brings me to my knees and don’t even get me started on your dancing!”
“You love me?” I ask with a grin to accompany my tears.
