Page 43 of Mason

Something isn’t right. The numbers are moving, but they’re moving suddenly in the wrong direction.

Bile rushes to my mouth. “Mason, stop!”

His expression hardens. “What is it?”

“I think I made a mistake,” I manage, without stuttering. My breath comes in ragged gasps of fear. “Back out, before it’s too late.”

Mason hovers over my computer screen. “It’s already too late,” he says. My stomach does a full-on summersault.

“Stop second guessing yourself,” Mason says, voice laced with annoyance. “This is what I’m talking about—once you’ve made the decision, you can’t go back. I thought you’d started to shed this insecurity…”

His words trail off as messages start flashing on the screen in red.

I’ve made a terrible mistake.

I know the exact second Mason realizes it, too. Sweat beads across his brow, and his shoulders go so tight you could snap an elastic off them and it would bounce right back. He is mad—beyond pissed.

And how can I blame him?

I just cost Daylight Savings thirty million dollars.

That has to be the company’s biggest loss ever, or at least one of them.

I clutch my stomach. “Oh my God, Mason. I am so sorry.”

His response is cut short by his ringtone. Both his cell and landline are on fire. He pushes a button on the Bluetooth and turns away to stare at the window. If I were him, I’d be wondering how to throw me out of it without getting charged with murder.

Slowly, I begin packing any personal items, while Mason tries to temper the anger of whoever is on the other line. Holden or Lucas? It doesn’t matter, he’ll eventually hear from them both.

My throat goes dry. Thirty million dollars.

I can’t even count the zeros in that.

I’ll never earn that much money if I work twenty-four hours a day for the next fifty years.

“I’m as much to blame here, Lucas,” Mason says into the phone. “The deal looked clean, I chose the number.” He bobs his head, responding to whatever Lucas has said back to him. “Right, I get it.” The tips of his ears go bright pink. “Fuck off. We both know you’d have made the same call. It’s not chump change, you’re right. We made a bad call, it happens.”

Mason turns, freezing me under his intense stare. He catches me putting my coffee mug in my purse and shakes his head, mouthing, “You’re not going anywhere.”

A minute later, he hangs up, and leans against the desk, hands in his pockets. My stupid eyes shoot straight to his crotch, and my heart aches knowing I’ll probably never get the chance to feel his cock inside me again. If losing the company this much money isn’t grounds for dismissal, I’ll be shocked. And I doubt our relationship—whatever it is—can survive after this.

“As you were saying,” Mason says.

I suck in a breath. Exhale with measured restraint. “I fucked up.”

He nods.

“And I’m so sorry. I know Lucas and Holden have a right to be mad, and they never liked me anyway, but I hope you will convey my most sincere apologies.”

“It’s a good start,” he says. Our eyes meet, and in his, I find lust. He crooks his finger toward me, drawing me close with an invisible pull. “But losing thirty million dollars is a significant amount of money. I can’t just wave that off with an apology.”

My voice catches. “What else can I do?” The tingle between my thighs betrays the innocence of my question.

“You will be punished.”

I don’t argue when he takes me over his knee, and carefully slides my dress up over my hips. He doesn’t bother to remove my thongs, but grips the string and pulls, making the lace rub against my pussy. My clit is already throbbing.

His hand moves across my skin, tracing the curve of my buttocks, as though exploring. My lips and mouth go dry. The pads of his fingertips are everywhere.