Page 52 of Mason

Mason is busy every day, and I’ve managed my workload in spite of his meetings and absences. It’s when he’s gone or distracted that I do my best work, because it keeps my mind off missing him.

Anger nips at the back of my shoulders. I rub the base of my neck, easing the tension. It doesn’t abate. “I have a lot of work to do myself.”

He scoffs. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

Now I’m pissed. “Why do you do this?”

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“This.” I gesture between us. “You let me in, and then shut me out. Just when I think we’re getting closer, you pull back. What the hell, Mason?”

He all but rolls his eyes, and it only further cranks up my anger. “What, no answer?”

I’m poking now, trying to egg him on, force some kind of reaction. He doesn’t take the bait. He walks out of the bedroom, disappearing from view. I stew for a second, and then bolt out of bed, chasing after him down the hall. “Seriously!”

When he doesn’t turn around, I curse. “For fuck’s sake, you cold prick.”

That gets his attention. He turns, leveling me with a cool stare, and says, “You knew exactly what you were getting into when you came to work for me.”

That is a bald-faced lie. Mason Wood’s reputation may have preceded him—personally and professionally—but no amount of warning could have prepared me for this. I’m invested. I care.

Damn it, I’m in love.

I follow him to the kitchen and pour myself a coffee. After slugging back a generous mouthful, I slam the cup on the granite countertop. “How long are you going to pretend you don’t have feelings for me?”

He whirls around, eyes steely and gray. “Don’t act like you know me.”

A response catches in my throat. The truth is, I do know him, and I think that scares him. I get it, I’m terrified too. After my dad left, I thought I’d never trust a man enough to fall in love. Didn’t think I could love.

I grab his arm. “I’m not going anywhere, Mason. Please, I want to help.”

Mason’s voice goes dangerously low. “Let it go, Olivia.”

Tears gather in my eyes. “You’re not the only with shit to deal with,” I say. “I came here last night to talk to you, because I thought you could help me.” The words tumble from my mouth, and it’s not until I stop talking that I realize he isn’t listening. For whatever reason, Mason has shut down, shut me out.

“Fuck, Mason.” My body trembles. “I thought we had something special here.”

My gut tells me we’re right together.

But my instinct has been wrong before.

Mason’s jaw twitches. “I never promised you a fairy tale. You knew what this was.”

I want to scream. Stomp my feet. Throw something at the wall. I’m so fucking sick of everyone I care about running away when shit gets hard. Dad, Renee. I can’t stomach the thought of losing Mason too.”

“Things changed between us.” I move my hand from his arm to his chest, flattening my palm against his heart. “Something happened here. You can deny it to me, but please, admit it to yourself. Before it’s too late.”

His eyes go gray, and the first inkling of doubt creeps into my soul. Is it possible I’m wrong? That he doesn’t care for me at all?

I think back to the way his partners treat me, their constant insistence that Mason is different with me. Did I interpret that the wrong way? Am I really that naïve?

“You’ve misinterpreted this…us,” he says, quiet and solemn, as if reading my thoughts and speaking my deepest fears.

I almost believe it’s the truth. “I don’t think I did,” I reply.

“I don’t do commitment. I’m not your white knight.”

Tears sting my eyes. I blink them back and swallow the knot lodged in my throat. “Don’t do this.”