by Nina Levine
But hell if I can stop myself from taking what I want.
“Oh my God, oh God,” Chelsea pants as her nails pierce my skin and she comes. “Fuck, Mason. Fuck.”
Her pleasure and her filthy words are my final undoing and I come too.
“Fuck!” I roar as my orgasm hits and lose myself in her. Finally and completely. And for one fucking moment I forget everything we’ve been through. I forget how she broke me, shattered me, ruined me. In this moment, she’s mine again. Mine to love and give everything to.
I kiss her, my tongue sliding over hers, still losing myself in her.
The moment is trashed when she puts her hands on my shoulders, pushes out of my embrace, and says frantically, “Mason, stop. We need to get dressed.”
Of course we fucking do.
Before her fucking husband finds us.
I pull out of her and let her go. Snatching her clothes up, I throw them at her. “Yeah, we fucking do.”
I put my dick away and zip my pants. What the fuck was I thinking? She might have told me she missed me, but she’s not fucking choosing me. She never fucking chooses me.
I cut a path to the door of the gym, looking back at her as I reach for the handle. “The next time you want to get drunk and tell me how fucking sorry you are, don’t. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
As I stalk out of the gym, I tell myself I hate her.
I tell myself I’m finally done with her.
I tell myself a whole lot of fucking lies, because the truth is, I don’t hate her, and I’m not done with her. Not by a long fucking shot.
20
Chelsea
My heart cracks as I watch Mason exit the gym. Letting him think the worst about me is slowly killing me, but I can’t let him think anything else. I need to start putting my plan into place with Joe so I can get us to the point where Mason is safe again. Once Joe’s out of the way and once my father is dealt with, then I can tell Mason the full truth. I don’t expect him to wait around for me, but I at least want him to know that what he thinks about me isn’t true. I want him to know I’m not the monster in all of this.
I quickly dress and leave the gym. I have to shower. The last thing I need is for Joe to catch me after I fucked Mason. That won’t help my plan at all.
Thankfully he’s not in our room when I get back. I manage to shower and dress before he returns. I’m finishing styling my hair as he walks through the door.
He doesn’t greet me before going to the safe and opening it, so I quietly finish with my hair and spray some perfume on. I then reach for my earrings and say, “What do you want me to do today?”
He’s busy looking through some papers that he pulled out of the safe. Glancing up at me, he says, “You’re free this morning. We need you at the lunch today. Griff will come by and collect you at twelve.”
I nod. “Okay. Is there any information I should brush up on before lunch?”
He watches me like he’s not quite sure about me, so I move to him and say, “You told me to get on board with this. I’m fucking getting on board. Tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”
Joe doesn’t like it when I swear, and today is no different. That vein in his neck pulses, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. “I’ll get Matthew to email you some information. Go through it before lunch.”
“Done.”
He watches me silently for another few moments before going back to his papers. Five minutes later, he packs them up and walks to the door. “I much prefer it when you’re like this, Chelsea.”
Fucking asshole.
“I know” is all I say. I need to maintain some hostility while I transition us to where I want us; Joe will sense something’s up if I suddenly become sickly sweet to him.
I sag to the bed as the door clicks closed.
I still want to run away. Leave him far behind. Pretend none of this exists.
I can’t do that, though.
The feel of Mason between my legs keeps me going. Reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing. One day, Joe won’t hold any power over either of us. I’m going to make damn sure of it.
I spend the morning going over the information Matthew emails me. I also research it all further, learning facts that aren’t in the documents he sent. I then spend time researching my husband and his business. I was so naïve when I married him, not seeing a need to learn all there was to know about him. Now, I’m going to the ends of the earth to dig everything up that I can find.
When Griff knocks on my door to collect me, I feel more prepared to face Joe than I’ve ever felt. It’s true what they say knowledge is power. The other thing that’s true? Nobody gives you power; you have to take it. And fuck, I’m taking it. Even if it takes me a long time, I’m fucking taking it.
Joe is all charisma and charm when I arrive for lunch. He’s invited about fifty men and their partners, so I slip into the role of the perfect wife to help him sell the story of his campaign. Because I’ve realised now, this isn’t my father’s campaign we’re running here—this is Joe’s campaign.
“Hello, darling,” I greet him with a kiss to his lips, a hand to his cheek, and a smile that screams love.
He actually looks pleased as his hand snakes around my waist and he kisses me back.
Matthew moves closer to us before Joe can say anything. “I trust you received that information,” he says. He looks at me like he thinks I’m nothing. He’ll regret underestimating me one day.
“I did, thank you, and I studied it all. I’m impressed by the figures on the mine and what it would contribute to our economy, but I have some questions that I think the public are going to want answered. I know I want them answered.”
Matthew’s eyes turn flinty. Cold. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that, Chelsea.”
Another fucking asshole.
I’m surrounded by them.
I catch sight of my father coming our way and smile at him. “Dad, is Dwayne Moss attending the lunch today?” It’s his mine we’re here to talk about after all.
He frowns, not used to me involving myself in any of this. “Not that I’m aware of.” He looks at Joe for confirmation.
Joe shakes his head. “No.”
“That’s a pity,” I say. “I think it would pay for us to talk with him about the need to do some work on his life-of-mine plan. I don’t believe he’s identified suitable future land uses with regard to community views. This is the kind of stuff that will help him get this development approved, don’t you think? Getting the community on board is important.”
Joe looks at me like he’s never seen me. Dad, too. Matthew just looks annoyed by me.
“Let’s discuss that some more later,” Joe says before glancing around the room. “For now, I need you to go and work your magic with the wives.”
“Of course you do,” I say, making sure to inject annoyance into my voice.
When his lips press together, I know I’ve achieved my goal.
I lean forward and kiss him. “Never fear, dear husband, I’ve got you covered.”
With that, I make my way to the first of the wives I need to schmooze, almost 100 percent certain my husband is watching me and wondering what the fuck is going on.
Score one to me today.
“I didn’t realise you knew about mine rehabilitation,” Joe says that night when we’re getting ready for the dinner we’re attending.
I look at him as he takes a sip of his scotch. He’s sitting in the armchair watching me while I fix my hair. He has the same look on his face he’s had every time I’ve caught sight of him this afternoon. It’s a mix of confusion, surprise, and curiosity.
Lunch was a huge success, and I know both Joe and Dad were more than happy with the way I worked the room. I mean, hell, even I was impressed with myself. It’s hard work faking love for those two, and I managed to do it for a full three hours, not slipping once.
“You might be surprised at what I’m capable of.”
“I’d
like to see what you’re capable of, Chelsea.”
I nod. “I know.”
He places his glass down and stands. Moving behind me, he runs his hands down my bare arms. Dropping his mouth to my shoulder, he murmurs, “I like you like this.”
A shiver spreads across my skin. Not a good one, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. “I’m trying, Joe.”
“I can see.”
He kisses my neck and I fight the urge to push him away. It takes everything inside me, but I succeed in tilting my neck so he thinks I like what he’s doing. When one of his hands moves to my breast, I hold my breath and wonder if I actually have the balls to see this plan through. But all I have to do is think about Mason and I know I’ll find the balls. I’ll do whatever it takes to find them.
Joe turns me so he can kiss me.
He reaches his hand under my dress to slip his fingers into my panties.
I close my eyes and kiss him back while my mind disconnects and I think about the stars. I think about gazing at them with Mason, lying on our backs, staring up at the night sky. I think about rolling over and kissing him while he tells me which constellation we’re looking at. I think about him pushing my hair off my face and telling me he loves me.
Joe makes me come while I think about those stars and the man I love.
I hate that he makes me come.
He loves it. It makes him feel powerful, which is what I’m banking on, and the only reason I allow it.
At the sound of someone knocking on our door, he brings his mouth to my ear and says, “I want you tonight.”
I know what I have to do tonight, and I’ve been readying myself for it, but when I see Mason’s face at the door, I stumble with it. I feel dirty and ashamed. I’ve never been the kind of girl who cheats. The kind of woman who sleeps with two men in one day. And yet here I am. Mason and I are no longer together, but I feel so deeply that I’m cheating on him. Especially when he looks at me the way he does when Joe takes his eyes off him. Like he doesn’t completely hate me and like he’s thinking about what we did this morning.
Joe comes back to me and kisses me while circling his hand around my neck. “Don’t be late.” He slowly uncurls his fingers from my neck and trails them down to my chest. It’s all for fucking show, for Mason’s benefit, and I have to work hard not to push his hand away.
“I won’t be,” I promise, counting down the seconds until he leaves.
“Good.”
I don’t look back at Mason as Joe exits the room. I can’t. I don’t want to see the hate I know will be blazing from him.
21
Gunnar
Alexa: When will you be home?
Me: Monday.
Alexa: Oh good.
Me: Why? What do you need?
Alexa: Pfft, maybe I just miss you.
Me: Spit it out.
Alexa: Fine, I need you to fix my shower. It’s leaking.
Me: You know you can pay a plumber to do that.
Alexa: I’m on a budget.
Me: You don’t even know what the fuck a budget is.
Alexa: I know. I’m practicing.
Me: So part of that is using me to fix your shit?
Alexa: I’ll make you dinner.
Me: I’ll be over Monday night. I want steak.
Alexa: You always want steak. Let me cook you something different.
Me: It’s steak or nothing.
Alexa: God, you can be so boring, Mason. Live a little. Try new things.
My gaze locks onto Chelsea, drawing my attention completely. She’s proof I don’t like new things; I like what I know.
Alexa: Mason?
Me: I’ve gotta go. See you Monday.
I shove my phone in my pocket as I track Chelsea leaving the function she and Hearst just hosted for lunch. We haven’t spoken since I fucked her in the gym yesterday, but we’ve exchanged glances enough for me to know she’s as confused by the encounter as I am. When I fucked her at her house, that was a pure hate fuck. That was me wanting to fucking claim her while her husband sat in the next fucking room. Hell, I wanted him to walk in on us that time. And while I was down with being caught with her yesterday, that was no hate fuck. That was pure fucking need. And what I need now is more of her. And that confuses the hell out of me.
“Gunnar,” Griff says, his tone causing my senses to kick right in. “We’ve got a situation.”
He’s already on his way out the door, and I follow him. His pace picks up and we jog past Chelsea to the fire exit stairs. Running down the two levels to the ground floor, we exit, and I follow Griff outside to the front of the hotel where I can see Hearst in a heated argument with two men who look like they stepped off the Sopranos set.
“Christ,” Griff mutters, slowing. “That’s what he’s tied up in.”
“This should be fun,” I say, drawing a shake of his head. Grinning, I say, “At least it gives us something to do other than fucking driving Hearst around.”
We join Hearst and his two security assholes who are useless as fuck. “There a problem here?” Griff asks.
The Sopranos dudes eye him. “Yeah, one that doesn’t fucking concern you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Griff says. “If you have a problem with Hearst, you have a problem with us.”
“And who the fuck are you?” one of the guys snarls.
“Storm,” I say. “And we’re fucking ready to play if you are.”
“Fuck,” the guy says, glancing at his mate like he’s looking for confirmation they should continue.
His mate looks at me and I know it’s on. This one’s not fucking backing down, so I go in hard with a punch designed to knock him flat on his ass. He’s a fucking fridge of a motherfucker, too, so it takes some fucking force to achieve my goal, but I do.
The other guy is straight into it, throwing punches at Griff, who blocks them all. Hearst’s security guys take a step to get in on the action. I look at them and give a shake of my head, letting them know to leave this shit up to us.
The fridge gets himself up off the ground and comes at me with both fists flying.
“Come on, motherfucker,” I say, motioning with my hands for him to come at me. “Make it fucking hurt. I could do with the distraction from other shit.”
I let him get one punch in. On my cheek. The crack of his fist connecting with my bones settles in deep while the pain radiates through me. And then I deliver that pain ten-fucking-fold back to him.
I smash my fists into his face and body. He puts up a good fight, but I beat the utter shit out of him until he’s a bloody mess on the ground, curling his legs up, trying to defend himself from me.
Bending down, I yank his legs and arms out of the way and roll him onto his back. Standing over him, my feet either side of his body, I grip his face, squeezing hard. “Don’t fucking come back here. You won’t fucking like what you find.” I then smash my fist down onto his face one last time.
Straightening, I find Hearst watching me. I can’t see his eyes because they’re hidden behind his sunglasses. “What the fuck are you tied up in?” I demand, doing my best to tell myself I’m not asking because of Chelsea. That I’m not fucking worried for her safety.
His lips curl up in a snarl. “I pay you to do what you just did. I don’t fucking pay you to ask questions.”
I take a step towards him, but Griff pulls me back and says, “Should we expect more from them?”
Fuck. I’m fucking wired now, and Hearst throwing his bullshit at me only fills me with more angry energy I’ll need to work off.
“I don’t expect this will fix the situation,” Hearst says.
“So that’s a fucking yes, then?” I snap.
He shoots me a foul glare but doesn’t answer. The asshole thinks he’s fucking above answering to anyone. He stalks into the hotel without another word.
“Fucking hell,” I say, looking at Griff. “The sooner this job is done, the fucking better.”
/> He nods. “Right there with you, brother.”
I make it through the afternoon without taking to Hearst with my fists even though that’s exactly what I want to do. I have to drive him out to some fucking shitty town where I then have to spend two hours standing around in the heat while he sits in air conditioning inside. And I have to listen to him talk to me like I’m the shit on his fucking shoes. By the time we return to the hotel, I’m unsure if he’ll survive the night or if I’ll finally lose all sense and choke the life out of him.
It’s just after five when we get back. Hearst goes straight up to his room and I head to mine after he tells me his security guy will take over for a couple of hours. He needs me back for his dinner, but that’s not until 7:30 p.m.
I change out of the goddamn suit he insists we wear and into my gym clothes before heading down to the gym. The punching bag and I have a fucking date.
An hour in the gym doesn’t come close to ridding me of the wild energy consuming me. And it sure as fuck doesn’t take my mind off thinking about the fact Chelsea’s married to a motherfucker who can’t fucking protect her himself. And I’m fucking pissed off that after everything she’s done, I’m still over here worrying about her.
I head back up to my room and shower before dressing in a clean suit. If I never see another suit after this week, it won’t be too fucking soon.
After deciding I need some fresh air, I exit the room and head for the lifts. My legs slow as I see Chelsea waiting at it.
She turns and looks at me as I come closer. As I run my eyes over her body, I take in the sparkly silver sleeveless top and long emerald green skirt she’s wearing. I never liked green until I started dating her. It’s her favourite colour, and fuck she looks good in it.
“What happened to you?” she asks, eyeing my face where the Sopranos dude got some punches in.
“You sound genuinely concerned, Mayfair.”
“Because I am.”
“Don’t be. The other guy looks worse. Do you know what shit your husband’s involved in?”
