Page 25 of Mason

The glowing red numbers on the bedside alarm clock let me know I have one hour to make myself presentable, but I already know I won’t be attending that meeting. Like hell I’ll walk into that room and act like everything’s okay, that I didn’t overhear Mason and his partners talk about me like I’m some two-bit gold digging trailer trash.

Fuck that.

And fuck them.

My spine stiffens. Pride be damned, not even I need the job this bad. I’d rather be a damn barista at Starbucks than subject myself to ridicule at the hands of this trio of ego maniacs. I can hardly stomach the thought of seeing Mason again, let alone his damn friends.

Clearly, I have no choice but to leave.

Forget Hawaii, the beach and the sun. Forget Mason and the way he made me feel last night. Screw the steady income and the security of a job. I deserve better than to be treated like this.

I pull my hair into a loose ponytail, and put on my robe. Leaving my discarded bikini on the floor, I put on a robe and peer into the hall. Not seeing anyone, I slip from Mason’s suite and into mine across the hall.

My heart beats fast, as though it’s racing against the clock. My eyes flit to the time. I can’t be in this hotel when the meeting starts or Mason will come looking for me. And right now, I couldn’t give two shits if I ever see him again.

I don’t bother to pack, and leave only with the clothes on my back. It doesn’t even matter what he bought—I have no need for his charity. In fact, I have no use for Mason Wood at all.

My stomach twists as I tell myself this. The truth is, my body longs for his touch again. I yearn for the closeness and chemistry I feel when I’m with him.

But I tell myself to be strong.

Hand on the doorknob, I glance back into the room. An incredible sadness hovers over me like a black cloud. Damn it. I wasn’t expecting fairytale bliss. I’m not that naïve. But I know that being alone can’t hurt any more than this.

Or can it?

In the lobby, I check out of my room and ask the concierge to call me a cab. On the journey to the airport, I max out of my credit card to book the first flight out of Hawaii. At the airport, it hits me how much I’m giving up—my job, maybe my only chance at becoming a day trader.

I ask myself if I can really turn my back on all of this.

Turn my back on him so easily.

And in the end, I decide that it won’t be easy—but I can. And I will.

Chapter 15

I have five dollars to my name. Correction, had. After buying a coffee and a bagel, I’m down to two bucks, and I might use that to pay for a pillow during my impromptu flight back to New York.

Ten hours crammed on a plane with strangers.

Ten hours to punish myself for falling under Mason Wood’s powerful spell.

Ten hours to come up with a plan.

My cell phone vibrates for what must be the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. I know without looking that it’s Mason, but I refuse to answer. Even to tell him off. My heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat and I don’t trust myself not to lose my shit—or cave.

Because if I’m being honest, I really thought Mason liked me and that we had a chance.

I turn off my phone mid vibration and toss it into my purse. I’ve got fifteen minutes before pre-boarding, and I’m too restless to sit. I use the restroom first, using the mirror to wipe away the mascara smudges from my pale complexion and apply a thin layer of pink gloss. My skin is pasty—I’m practically a ghost. But this time, I almost wish I could become invisible, slide right off the face of the earth.

I smudge lipstick onto my cheeks and rub it in, smoothing out the make-shift blush to at least give some color to my face. Anyone who knows me will see through the mask.

Outside the bathroom, I weave through the crowds gathered in the small airport, passing the limited number of shops without even looking inside them. Even if I could afford a book, I don’t have the attention span to read, and with every magazine, I run the risk of seeing Mason’s smug, ruggedly handsome, sexy-as-hell face.

How pathetic that I can still find him attractive.

I stiffen my spine and lift my chin. Some of my decisions over the past few days could have been better, but there’s nothing to be gained from beating myself up over it. Maybe Mason’s right—I’m not the best fit for Daylight Holdings.

I’m not the best fit for him either.