by Nina Levine
Some of that tension came to a head yesterday when he demanded I go to his office and collect some paperwork for him while I was supposed to be at work. I’d said no initially, but he’d grown insistent until I finally agreed. Then we’d had an argument on the front lawn, the one Mason witnessed. Not my finest moment, but it’s been a long, hard week that I’ve spent alternating between fearing Joe will discover Mason’s marks on me, and pushing back against his assholey ways.
I was awful to Mason, but I couldn’t stop myself. Not when he’s the cause of a lot of my stress this week. God damn him for biting me. And when he looked at me with legit concern after my argument with Joe, I panicked a little too. Mason’s hate thawing is a slippery slope neither of us should tread. I achieved my goal of pushing him away, and then I came home later and had a screaming match with Joe before putting myself to bed in one of the spare rooms. He didn’t like that, but he didn’t force me back into our bed.
Tonight, he’s treading much more carefully with me. Watching me silently rather than engaging in conversation. I think I prefer it when he talks more, at least then I know what his thoughts are. When he’s like this, I have no idea, and that stresses me out. Wine is my coping mechanism.
“Chelsea,” Dad’s assistant Nicola says, “your father asked me to have you go see him. He has something to discuss with you.”
I nod. “Thanks, Nicola.”
I drain my glass before doing as she said. I haven’t spoken to my father all week. It’s the one high point of being married to Joe; my father tends to leave me alone these days, but that’s only because he has Joe doing his dirty work instead.
Joe’s still with Dad and he watches my approach, reaching for me when I join them. Pressing a kiss to my lips, he says, “Remember we’re in public tonight.”
I smile adoringly up at him. “How could I forget?”
“Chelsea,” Dad cuts in. “I want you and Joe up on the stage with your mother and me while I make my speech tonight. My approval ratings have taken a fall this week with the new policies I announced. We need to step up our efforts and maintain our presence as a strong family.”
I nod. “Sure.” I expected nothing less, so I’m not sure why he’s bothering to tell me this.
“Don’t be so damn casual about this,” Dad snaps, not even bothering to hide his annoyance.
“Careful, Dad, people are watching.”
His lips flatten and he looks at Joe. “I’ll leave you to deal with her.”
He leaves us without another word to me.
“Why do you insist on pissing him off?” Joe asks, looking as frustrated as he sounds.
“Why does he insist on being an asshole to me?”
“What did he say or do just then that was rude?”
“Honestly, Joe, this is between me and my father. You don’t need to involve yourself in it.”
“Except I do. Marrying you put me right in the fucking middle of you two, and here I am trying to deal with you.”
“Welcome to the fucking family. Aren’t you glad you agreed to this marriage?”
His nostrils flare as he works his jaw. I’m saved from his wrath when his assistant interrupts us and tells Joe he’s needed across the room.
He bends his face to mine before he leaves and warns, “Don’t overdo the wine. And I asked you to wear your hair out tonight. Go and fix it.”
I watch the women at the table near us track his ass as he walks past them. I want to tell them they can have him. Instead, I make my way to the bar in search of another wine. As for my hair, I’ll spend the time drinking my wine considering how much I want to be on his shit list later. Maybe I’ll fix my hair, maybe I’ll send him a big fuck you.
As I pass the ballroom door, I swear I catch sight of Mason.
Surely not.
Surely Joe hasn’t put the club on security detail here tonight.
I can’t help myself, though; I exit the room to see for myself. There’s a lot of people milling around in the foyer, and I’ve made it through them all before I see him. He’s outside the hotel on his phone, and before I know it, I’m pushing through the hotel doors and joining him. It’s a dumb move, but I’m unable to stop myself.
His back is to me, and while I’m not trying to eavesdrop, I catch snippets of the conversation.
“Yeah, I know, Mum, but I’m worried about you. Do you need someone to come sit with you at the hospital while you have your chemo? I can probably swing the time off,” he says.
Alexa told me their mother has cancer. I wanted to reach out to Mason to see how he was but decided against it. Hearing the worry in his voice makes me regret that decision.
He listens to what his mother says before saying, “It fucking pisses me off that Dad isn’t supporting you through this. I’ll be there.” He pauses briefly before saying, “This isn’t up for negotiation. I will be there.” He turns, coming face to face with me. “Fuck,” falls from his lips. And then to his mother—“I have to go, Mum. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stabs at the phone to end the call, his eyes firmly on me. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”
“Wow, I really love the way you speak to me now, Mason.”
“You made it really fucking clear yesterday that you don’t want anything to do with me, so I’m just wondering why the fuck I’m looking at you right now.”
He’s right, I did make that clear to him yesterday, but good God, his hate makes it hard to breathe. I push through, though. “I didn’t mean to listen to your conversation, but I heard bits of it. Are you okay?”
His eyes blaze with disbelief. Or maybe it’s distrust. “I’m good, but if I wasn’t, I sure as fuck wouldn’t need your concern or help, Chelsea.”
I swallow my hurt, but damn, it slides down like razors. Unsure whether to push the point and try to make him see I genuinely care, I stare at him for another long, few moments during which he watches me with a filthy look. Taking into account his stubborn streak, I nod and turn to leave. However, at the last minute, I look back at him and say, “When you love, you love like no other, Mason, but when you hate, it’s merciless.”
He doesn’t respond; he simply glares at me like he wishes he wasn’t looking at me.
I slip back into the ballroom, having made my decision to fix my hair for Joe. I can’t withstand two assholes in one night.
11
Gunnar
“Gunnar, can you please help me in the kitchen?” Harlow says about fifteen minutes after I arrive at her and Scott’s place on Saturday. Scott invited the club over for a barbecue lunch, and by the looks of it, there are about thirty people here so far. I’m not really in the mood for this, but I always show up for club get-togethers.
“Sure,” I say while wondering why the fuck she asked me. I’m not known for any special cooking talents.
She blasts me a huge smile. A fucking suspect smile if you ask me. One that indicates she’s up to something. “Thank you.”
I follow her into the kitchen where she puts me to work chopping salad. Yep, fucking suspect. She’s never asked me to do shit like this before.
Madison joins us, looking at Harlow and saying, “I can take over for you, honey.”
“I’m okay, but can you grab the mince out of the fridge and help me make the rissoles?”
“Sure, but don’t overdo it, okay?”
Harlow nods, but it’s clear even to me that she has no intention of sitting this out. Fuck knows why. If I was as pregnant as she is, I’d sit on my ass all day.
Madison gets to work on the rissoles. Looking at me, she says, “I saw your brother was in town last week. How is he?”
Fuck, these chicks love Hayden. His last four movies were blockbusters, and now every woman and her cat wants a piece of him, Madison included. She’s not as bad as most, because she’s actually hung out with him a few times over the years and knows he farts and burps like every other guy, but she follows the news and always knows when he’s in Australia.
“He’s good. Back in L
A now to start work on a new movie.”
“Oh, is that Hayden?” Nash’s old lady asks as she comes into the kitchen carrying bags of chips.
“Yeah,” I say.
“I just watched his latest movie last week,” she says. “I loved it.”
“I fuckin’ loved it, too,” Nash says, coming in after her, “because it got me laid when I didn’t think I had a chance in hell of getting some that night.”
Velvet shoots him a dirty look. “You were being a dick that day.”
“No, I was doing what you asked me to do that day.”
Velvet dumps the chips on the kitchen counter and rolls her eyes at her husband. “Nash, you were being a dick. I asked you to do the laundry. You proceeded to just wash your shit. Huge dick. I wish I didn’t fuck you that night now that I’m thinking of it.”
Madison shakes her head at Nash. “I agree, that’s a dick move.”
A chick I’ve never met sticks her head in the kitchen, looking lost until she spots Harlow, at which point she smiles and says, “Hey, Harlow.”
Harlow grins at her and motions for her to come in. “Louise! You made it. Everyone, this is Louise, a friend of mine from the gym.” She goes around the kitchen, rattling off our names for the chick. When she gets to me, her smile grows, and she says, “Louise, this is Gunnar. Can you please help him with the salads?”
Louise smiles at me. “Hi.” Then to Harlow, she says, “Sure, and I brought some pasta salads too.”
Harlow nods at the fridge. “There should be enough room for them in there, but if not, we’ve got more room in the fridge on the deck.”
Louise makes room in the fridge, bending over and giving me an eyeful of her ass. She’s my type, brunette with curves for days, and that ass is one a man could get a good hold on, but my dick isn’t interested in the least. And neither am I, but I’ve clued on to what Harlow’s game is here: she’s playing matchmaker, which means the afternoon ahead is going to be hell. When Harlow gets an idea about two people she thinks would be perfect together, she’s fucking relentless.
“You’re a member of the club?” Louise says when she joins me to help with the salads.
“Yeah.” She already knew the answer; she’s just making small talk.
She smiles. “How long for?”
“Full-patch for nearly two years.”
She reaches across me to grab the tomatoes, her eyes meeting mine. “So full disclosure, Harlow told me about you. She said you’re single and that she thinks we’d get on, and I know she’s trying hard to throw us together, but I’m not into this kind of thing. I just wanted you to know that in case she’s told you the same thing about me.”
This might be the best fucking thing I’ve heard today. “Good to know, and for the record, I’m not into this kind of shit either.”
Relief washes across her face. “Oh, thank God.” She gets to work on the tomatoes.
We settle into an easy silence for a few minutes. When I finish chopping the cucumbers, I say, “How much did you not want to come here today?”
She looks up at me and grins. “A lot, but I promised Harlow I would, and I try never to break my promises, so here I am.”
Fuck, I respect that. Someone who honours a fucking promise. “You met Scott yet?”
She shakes her head. “I haven’t met any of Harlow’s friends or family. I’ve only known her for a few weeks.”
The door to the back deck slides open and J enters, his eyes coming instantly to me. “You joining the sewing circle, Gunnar?”
Madison takes Willow, their daughter, from him and says, “You could learn a thing or two yourself if you joined.”
He grins, bending his face to kiss her. Then, smacking her ass, he says, “I know everything I need to know, baby.”
She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, you don’t.”
“I’ve gotta head out for a bit and check on something. I’ll be back in about an hour or so,” he says before kissing the top of his daughter’s head.
“Okay.” She nods.
J eyes me. “Need you with me, brother.”
Harlow’s head whips up. “He’s busy, J. Can you take someone else?”
I catch the quirk of Louise’s lips as her eyes meet mine. I give a quick grin in return.
“No, I need Gunnar on this one, Harlow,” J says.
I bend my mouth to Louise’s ear. “Save me a seat next to you. We can trade stories of being set up over the years.”
The smile in her eyes is one of the most genuine I’ve ever seen. “She’s done this to you before?”
I nod. “Fuck yeah.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear those stories,” she says, the smile from her eyes reaching her lips.
I grab my shit and follow J out to our bikes. “What’s going on?”
“Wilder’s got some trouble at the restaurant we need to take care of.” He looks at me before getting on his bike. “You owe me, brother.”
“What the fuck for?”
“For saving your ass from Harlow.”
“You knew about that?”
“Yeah, Madison mentioned it.”
“You could have fucking warned me.”
“Nah, I like to see you squirm for a bit.”
I shake my head. “Fucking asshole.”
“You gonna pursue that?”
“I’m taking a break from women for a while.” A fucking forced break because my dick’s on vacation.
“I didn’t ask if you wanna commit for fucking life.”
I grab my helmet. “Are we gonna take care of shit or stand around here and talk all fucking day?”
“I shoulda left your ass in there to deal with Harlow,” he mutters, but I know he doesn’t mean it. J might be an asshole at times, but he always looks out for me. Always has. He’s the one who brought me into the club.
As we take off in the direction of the restaurant, I think about Louise. It’s a fucking shame that the minute I do, my brain instantly goes to Chelsea. It’s been a hell of a couple of weeks running into her all the damn time, but our last encounter at that fundraiser was the fucking worst. I’d only stopped by briefly to drop something off to Moss, who was in one of the hotel suites; I’d done my best not to see Chelsea, but there she fucking was. And she was asking if I was okay after hearing me talk to my mum. That fucking threw me. I wanted to tell her no I wasn’t fucking okay. I wanted to tell her I needed her. But she made it crystal clear the day before that I wasn’t hers anymore, so I told her to fuck off instead. That was after spending every day this week waking up thinking about being inside her, battling to get through the day without thinking about her again, and then closing my eyes to images of her at night. I should never have fucked her on Monday. Touching her and tasting her has brought her screaming back into my head, twisting shit right up.
“Thanks for your help, brother,” Wilder says an hour later, after we’ve helped him sort out the assholes who turned up to Trilogy looking for trouble. It was a guy and a bunch of his friends there to give his ex and her new boyfriend grief. She cheated on him with the new guy, and he seems hell-bent on revenge. It all hit too fucking close to home for me; I wanted to take his side.
“You heading over to Scott’s after you’re finished here?” J asks him.
“Wilder, we need to talk,” Scarlett says, entering his office, interrupting us.
“Christ, what now, Scarlett?” Wilder mutters.
She scowls. Nothing new there; she spends most of her time scowling at him. “Don’t be a dick. I told you two hours ago that we had a problem with the reservations and you said you’d deal with it, and you didn’t, and now we’ve got a family of ten pissed off because it’s their daughter’s birthday and we don’t have a table for them to celebrate it.”
Wilder runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”
Scarlett arches her brows in an “I told you” expression. “Yeah.”
“Have you tried to rearrange shit to make it work?” he asks.
Her
brow arch turns into the kind of expression every man knows means imminent death. “Do I look like a fucking idiot?”
He works his jaw. Wilder’s in charge here, but Scarlett gives no fucks about authority. She challenges him often. I like her, but fuck, I’d want to kill her if I had to work with her. How Wilder’s survived her this long is beyond me. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Good.” With that, she stalks back out to the front of the restaurant.
“Have fun with that,” J says. “And by that, I mean Scarlett.”
“I doubt I’ll make it to Scott’s later,” Wilder says. “It’s been a long fuckin’ day here and I’m not feelin’ in the mood for people.”
“Yeah,” J says. “I wouldn’t either if I had to work with Scarlett.”
“Jesus,” Wilder grumbles. “She’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, brother.”
My phone sounds with a text.
Alexa: I need your help. Stat! Call me when you get this.
I look at J. “I’ve gotta make a call.”
He nods, and I head outside to call Alexa.
“Oh my God, thank you for calling!” she says, sounding like I’ve just saved her life or some shit.
“What’s up?”
“I’m down the coast for the weekend and lost my credit card last night when I was drunk. I need you to go to my place and grab my emergency card from the safe and bring it to me. Please!”
“Jesus, Alexa, how the fuck do you keep losing that card?” This isn’t the first time this has happened. My sister might be more responsible than me, but she sure as shit is good at losing her credit card.
“Shut up. I didn’t mean to lose it.”
“You want me to drive down the coast now? Are you with anyone who can lend you some cash?”
“No, I don’t want to ask anyone for money. Please. I will love you forever.”
“You already love me forever.” Fuck, heading down the coast is the last fucking thing I want to do right now.
“Well, I’ll love you longer than forever. We’re about to go to the day spa for the afternoon. I’ll be there when you get here.”
