by Whitley Cox
Then Isobel grabbed her hand and placed two of her fingers on Lowenna’s wrist, her grip firm but gentle.
Lowenna’s instinct was to pull away, but she couldn’t, and after a second, she didn’t want to. Her curiosity got the better of her, as it almost always did. Her pulse, however, picked up, as did her temperature.
“I can feel your pain,” Isobel said, her voice now a faint whisper. “It’s so strong.” She blinked, and suddenly tears formed in her light blue eyes. “Your anger is stronger though because they keep hurting you. They keep taking from you. They keep demanding of you. They won’t just let you be.”
Lowenna went to pull her hand away again. Now Isobel was just starting to freak her out. It was like the woman had managed to crawl inside Lowenna’s head, inside her heart and feel everything she was feeling. Despite how hot she was, an icy chill dripped down the length of her spine, and she took a step back, disengaging her hand from Isobel’s. This time Isobel let her.
“Don’t let them take anymore,” Isobel said, seeming unaffected by Lowenna’s discomfort. “You can be the bigger, the better person and not do what it is you’re planning to do.”
What the hell was she planning to do? She hadn’t even thought that far yet. All she’d realized in that rage room was that she needed to plan something. Her ideas while she swung the bat had been outrageous and completely insane. Anonymous tip to the police that Brody was the Tacoma Strangler, or spill nail polish on Doneen’s dress right before the ceremony. You know, ridiculous things that she’d actually never do, but made her feel better as she fantasized about getting even.
But one thing she’d come out of that room knowing was that one way or another, she needed to exact some kind of revenge on her sister and Brody. They couldn’t be allowed to get away with how they treated her.
“You can say no. You can walk away,” Isobel said softly. “Revenge is not the answer.”
All the moisture left Lowenna’s mouth at the same time the oxygen fled her lungs. She drew in a big breath through her nose and reached for Isobel’s wineglass. She allowed her to take it. “Are you some kind of freaky witch or something?” she murmured into the wineglass as she took a big sip.
Isobel’s eyes glowed before she tossed her head back and laughed, her dark ponytail swishing gently behind her. “No. I just feel things really strongly, feel people and their emotions as if they’re my own. I can read people. And I can read you.”
Lowenna hadn’t even been paying attention to what was going on around them, but the muffled sounds of smashing and crashing drifted behind them. It looked like the next round of demolition had started.
“Talk to Mason,” Isobel said. “I bet he can help you overcome all this pent-up rage and hate. He’s never really opened up to me about it, but I know that the man has some demons of his own that he conquered. He might be able to help you.” Then she wandered away toward one of the other rooms to observe the destruction, leaving Lowenna standing there, still with a heaving chest, sweaty brow and complete and utter confusion clogging up her brain.
It wasn’t until her phone in her pocket began to buzz that she shook herself clean of the last few moments and pulled it out to see who was messaging her.
If it was Doneen, Lowenna feared she might become homicidal.
Thankfully, though, it was Mason.
At poker with the guys. How is the baby shower? Let’s chat tonight. Let me know when you’re home, and I’ll give you a call.
Instantly, her heart rate went down and her pulse no longer thundered wildly in her ears. Her temperature also began to cool.
She took a few deep, grounding breaths before she texted him back.
Baby shower is going great. All the women are so lovely. A chat sounds good. Good luck and I hope you win all their money.
She was about to shove her phone back in her pocket when it buzzed again. She didn’t think he would message back that quickly. After all, he was at guys’ night.
Can’t wait. Xoxo ;)
Did he just winky-face emoji her?
He did. And he put kisses and hugs at the end of his message too.
Now she was pleasantly tingly all over, and every ounce of rage that had been crawling around inside her like a cluster of venomous spiders was replaced with an almost immediate sense of calm and joy. Because she was thinking of Mason. Because tonight she was going to talk to Mason.
“You okay?” Isobel approached her again, her eyes flicking to Lowenna’s phone.
Lowenna nodded before she stowed her phone into her back pocket. “Everything’s great. That was just Mason checking in.”
Isobel’s smile said it all. “You should see yourself right now. You’re glowing. I don’t feel any pain or rage coming off you anymore. And all that from just a couple of text messages.”
Lowenna rolled her eyes.
“Roll your eyes all you want,” Isobel said with a chuckle, looping her arm around Lowenna’s shoulder and steering them both in the direction of one of the rage rooms so they could go and observe the havoc. “But you’ve got it bad, and it’s because he makes you feel so good.”
Lowenna rolled her eyes again but didn’t say anything. She knew by her reflection in the acrylic glass that Isobel’s words and the truth they held were written all over her face.
9
Mason shut the door to Willow’s room behind him after checking on her and making sure she was still breathing. Even though he had one of those high-tech video baby monitors and kept the volume on high, he still went in a few times a night and checked on her.
She was his life. His everything. And also, he just liked to go and watch her sleep because she was just that freaking cute.
Poker night had been fun. They’d gone to Aaron’s place instead of Liam’s as they usually did, because Isobel was out at the baby shower, so Aaron needed to stay home for Sophie.
Even though Mason didn’t head home with a wallet lined with the other men’s money, he’d still enjoyed himself and their fatherly griping and banter.
He’d been looking forward to calling Lowenna all night though. He also didn’t feel bad about texting her, because even though Liam told the guys to not call or text their women during poker night because it was “guy time,” none of the men listened. And now Mason had someone he could miss, someone he could think about and text.
Well, kind of.
He was still technically her gigolo.
But that’s why he was calling her tonight. He was working on making her more than just his … what was the female equivalent for a John?
Johanna?
Jane?
Either way, he needed show her that there was more to him than just a pretty face and two left feet, though one was working on righting itself (thanks to Vi and Adam).
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he wandered into his living room and slid onto the couch, propping his feet up and cracking open the bottle, taking a long swig before he brought her number up on his phone.
It started to ring.
And ring.
And ring.
Shit, was she not home yet? Isobel had arrived home just as they were all packing up their poker stuff at Aaron’s, so that meant the baby shower was over, right? Had one of the other women given Lowenna a ride, or had she walked home in the dark and rain all by herself?
Oh God.
Was she okay? Had she been mugged? Or worse?
Panic ratcheted up through his body as her phone continued to ring in his ear.
“Pick up, woman,” he growled. “Damn it, pick up.”
More ringing.
Did she not have voicemail?
He was about to hang up, call his mother and ask her to come over and watch Willow again so he could go our searching the streets for Lowenna when a frantic hello interrupted his racing thoughts.
Oh, thank God.
“Lowenna?”
He let out a deep exhale, running his fingers through his hair at the same time he tipped his beer back and too
k another long guzzle.
She must have felt his panic through the phone. “Sorry, I was in the shower. I wasn’t sure when you would call and I was all gross from the day, so I hopped in the shower when I got home. Violet gave me a ride so I didn’t have to walk in the rain.”
Well, now he had images of her in the shower, and something very different from panic began to flood his veins, pooling between his legs.
He adjusted his jeans to relieve the sudden strain at the front of them. “It’s okay. I should have had you text me when you were available to talk. I’m glad Vi gave you a ride. I didn’t like the idea of you walking home.”
Her warm chuckle on the other end of the phone made his heart rate ramp up. “No?” she asked, humor in her tone. “Afraid I might get mugged?”
“Uh, yeah. Just because it’s not the wrong side of the tracks doesn’t mean where you live and work isn’t without its degenerates who would love nothing more than to shank you for your purse.”
A mixture of emotions tangled inside of him. If anything had happened to her, he’d never be able to live with himself, but at the same time, he had no real claim to her either. She’d probably been walking home alone for months, if not years, and was perfectly fine.
“If you can’t get a ride next time, call me, okay?”
He could practically hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the phone. “Yes, sir. I will call you, so you can leave your baby and come drive me three blocks.”
He resisted the urge to growl. “Well, at least call an Uber then.”
He wished they were Skyping because he really needed to see her facial expressions. He could just imagine her fighting to keep a straight face through his mini-lecture.
“Let’s hang up and video chat. I want to see you,” he said. “You’re probably rolling those gray eyes of yours at me, and I’d rather see it than just think it.”
Fuck, he loved her laugh.
“Okay,” she finally said, still laughing. “Gimme a minute to put on more than a towel.”
“No need to get all dressed up for me,” he said, suddenly picturing her wearing nothing but a towel and then it magically slipping off. “I’m totally cool with a towel. Or no towel at all. Easy breezy, that’s me.”
“I’m rolling my eyes again,” she said with another laugh. “Hang on.”
A few noises that made his cock twitch and grow came across from her end. She’d probably put the phone down and was now naked and getting into her pajamas.
“Okay. There. I’m in my pj’s. Let’s hang up and Skype.”
“Okay.”
Moments later, her gorgeous face appeared before him, rosy from the shower, with her dark hair wet and slicked back against her head, making her cheekbones pop. Her bright eyes glittered over the rim of her wineglass as she took a sip, the corners of her mouth turning up into a small, demure smile.
“So, how was poker?” she asked, setting her wineglass down.
He lifted one shoulder. “I didn’t get fleeced. Liam is the resident card shark though. On average, he wins the most out of any of us.”
“This Liam guy sounds like quite the character. The ladies mentioned him a few times at the baby shower, too. I’m looking forward to finally meeting him.”
A frisson of something Mason could only attribute to jealousy licked up his spine, then sat and niggled at the back of his neck like an annoying tickle. He straightened up where he sat and cleared his throat, shrugging again. “He’s a cool guy … I guess. I mean, if you like the older type with lots of money, a fancy car, fancy house and a black heart. Guy has sworn off love. He has a friend with benefits, and that’s all he says he ever needs or wants.”
Mason didn’t like speaking ill of his friend and their club founder, but he also didn’t want her developing any kind of interest in the guy. For all he knew, she was slowly turning anti-love too, and Liam was just the kind of guy she was looking for.
He needed to help her see that love wasn’t the enemy and that Liam certainly wasn’t the man for her.
“So, tell me about The Rage Room,” he said, leaning back against the arm of his plush, brick-colored leather couch. “How’d it go?”
A heat of some sort flashed behind her eyes before she smiled, though it wasn’t a smile he was used to. This smile held an almost sinister tilt to it.
“It was good,” she said, sipping her wine again. “Really got some clarity. Let the fury fuel me.”
“That’s how you get the best bang for your buck.”
“Yeah, bang, along with crash, smash and destroy.” Her nose wrinkled. “But I’d rather not talk about that right now. Let’s talk about something else.” She scraped her top teeth over her bottom lip, a look that made her instantly look all sexy and innocent. “Isobel mentioned something, and she told me to ask you about it … ”
All he did was lift his eyebrows up a fraction, encouraging her to continue.
“She said you have some demons in your past that you’ve conquered and that maybe you could help me fight my own.” Her sexy throat bobbed as she swallowed down another sip of her wine. “What did she mean by that?”
Who told Isobel? That’s what Mason wanted to know.
Had Mitch told Paige and Paige told Isobel? Did Isobel know the details of Mason’s past?
It wasn’t like he was a murderer or wanted for tax evasion or anything, but he wasn’t necessarily proud of who he used to be either. A shark, a wolf, an apex predator of the most ruthless kind. Out for blood, or in his case—money.
Willing to do whatever it took to make his company as much money as it possibly could, no matter who got hurt, no matter who lost their job because of it.
The bottom line was money, and the more the better.
Until his conscience got the better of him and he was forced to quit, take off traveling and find out what life was really about, find a greater purpose and meaning to his existence on the blue and green marble spinning around in space.
“Still there?” Lowenna’s voice brought him back to the moment. She was looking at him curiously, her head tilted slightly, her lips twisted.
Shaking his thoughts free, Mason smiled and nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Just … ” He chuckled awkwardly. “Just figuring out how to best explain my demons, as Isobel called them.”
Lowenna nodded. “You don’t have to. I … ” She began to stumble over her words, her eyes no longer glittering and instead appearing unsure, almost timid. “I just thought we could get to know each other. Go deeper than the superficial … you know? You know so much about me and my demons, it’s only fair, isn’t it? I need to know about you just as much as you need to know about me if we’re going to pull this off and dupe everyone at the wedding into believing we’re in love.”
Right. The business arrangement.
“Fair enough.” Exhaling and suddenly feeling defeated, though he couldn’t quite say why, he set down his now empty beer bottle on the coffee table, propped his phone on his knees, then leaned back against the couch once again, tucking his hands behind his head. “I grew up here in Seattle. I wrestled for my high school and was awarded a few scholarships. I went to college in Oregon on a wrestling scholarship, where I earned a degree in business and finance. Then I got my MBA at Stanford. I worked for a pretty successful hedge fund company while in California and was headhunted by Boon Investments here in Seattle. They brought me back, set me up with a fancy corner office, and from the get-go, I was the man they sent all their dirty work. I was their top closer. Apparently, I have a way of convincing people to do things.”
Her face remained stoic, but her brows lifted just enough to tell him the video hadn’t frozen. He couldn’t get a read on her though.
Finally, she spoke. “I can believe that. You convinced me to hire you. Could probably convince me to do a lot of things.”
Wait, what?
Whoa!
He cleared his throat. “You sure that wasn’t the kiss?” He had to say it. She’d practically set him up for it
. They hadn’t spoken about that kiss since that night, but he’d sure as hell thought about it. Thought about it a lot. Particularly in the shower …
“You kiss all the people you’re trying to convince like that?”
His smile grew bigger. “Only the pretty ones.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so they hired you to do their dirty work. And then?”
“And so I did. For many years. I convinced companies to sell to us for a fraction of what they were worth, then I facilitated in the firing, laying off and dismantling of those companies and their employees. I bought up mom and pop shops or independent, local companies and sold them to franchises. I did whatever I was asked, whatever it took to get owners to sell.”
“You manipulated, lied and ruined lives,” she finished for him.
He nodded. Even though his ulcer was long healed, something akin to phantom pain stabbed hard in his gut at the memory of all the lives he’d had a hand in ruining. Making sure she couldn’t see him, he held his hand against the side of his stomach and fought back a wince.
“Yes, I did.”
“And what made you give that life up?”
He snorted a laugh. “You mean besides my conscience attacking me, a life-threatening ulcer and an addiction to sleeping pills?” He shrugged. “It came on slow, the change. I knew all along that what we were doing—what I was doing was wrong. Even though it was legal, morally it was wrong. But the money blinded me from seeing the true picture, from seeing how many people and lives I truly hurt. Then the ulcer came and the inability to sleep. And finally, after being called out by a man who had built his company from the ground up, only to watch his son sell it off to us as if it were no more than a tacky lamp at a rummage sale, I started to realize that much like Dr. Frankenstein, Raymond and Ulysses Boon had created a monster out of me.”
Angus Nordman had slammed his empty glass down on the bar and glared at Mason, his jowls still trembling with the rage that burned hot in his yellowing hazel eyes. The man’s health was not good. “You’ll regret your actions, Mr. Whitfield. Mark my words, things have a way of coming back around. I don’t know how the fuck you sleep at night, tearing apart innocent lives. Laying off good, hard-working people. And for what? The bottom dollar?” Angus scoffed. “Rot in hell, you motherfucker.” Then he stalked off out of the bar, the steam from his ears lifting up into the rafters of the Sandpiper Pub.
