by Ivy Carter
Who ever heard of a second chance at Happily Ever After with your original prince?
Mason’s words come back to haunt me. I swallow a sip of water and stare at the bartender at the back of the room. He flips a cocktail glass over on the counter, tosses two bottles of colored liquid in the air, catches them, and pours a drink, which he then lights on fire. Figures Mom would choose this place, a restaurant known for its smoke and mirrors.
“You should have fought harder,” I say, blinking through tears. “Before he left. Why didn’t you know something was wrong in your relationship?”
Did she miss the signs?
“Liv, is something else bothering you?”
I avert my gaze. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” I cup my hands around the warm coffee cup, and run my thumb over the ridge. “What about that guy…Larry, or whatever? He seemed nice.”
Mom cracks a huge grin. “Now I know something is bothering you,” she says, chuckling. “You hated him.”
Hate is probably too strong a word, but Mom’s right—he wasn’t exactly a Knight in Shining Armor. Seems that particular kind of guy is in short supply these days, no matter what the movies portray. Still, Larry didn’t cheat, and he didn’t try to be someone he wasn’t.
Mom leans forward and waits for me to look up. When our eyes meet, I find the mom I’ve missed, and it almost brings me to tears. “Come on sweetie,” she says. “Tell me what’s going on.”
My resolve cracks and I spill everything about Mason—laying it all on the table for her to judge, to assess. She listens carefully, occasionally interrupting with a question, or to soothe with a comforting word. I leave out the personal stuff, and the Mason’s secrets—I would never betray his trust—but I don’t hold back when it comes to my feelings.
“I love him,” I say, sobbing into my sleeve.
Mom takes my hand in hers and rubs her thumb over my skin. “It’s going to be okay,” she says. “Whatever happens, you will be okay.”
“I don’t want to take him back,” I say, though I’m not totally convinced. If my mom’s indecision has taught me anything it’s that I don’t need Mason—or any man—to feel whole. I deserve more than he can give. “But damn it, Mom. Why does love to hurt so much? Why can’t it be enough?”
My mom squeezes my hand. “I understand. I do. Because I love your father, Liv. So very much.” She tilts her head a little and smiles. “And for me, that’s enough.”
I stare into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. But all I see is her happiness, shining through the pain of seeing her only daughter hurt. “What if he leaves again?”
She shrugs. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive him.”
“You don’t have to,” she says. “He has to earn that.”
I drop my gaze, and draw circles on the condensation that has formed on my water glass. The shape morphs into a distorted heart. Absently, I draw a line through it, splitting it in half. “Are you sure he can make you happy?”
Mom laughs. “No, but I’m sure as hell going to make him try.” She reaches across the table and lifts my chin. “He’s the only man I’ve ever wanted, Liv.”
I allow a small smile to slip past my lips. “Then I guess that’s good enough for me, mom.”
The silence in my apartment is so intense I almost wish for the incessant noise of Heavy Metal Craig’s music. I cradle my cell in my lap, willing it to ring. It takes all my willpower to not call Renee, to text Mason.
I can’t give in.
But the thought of seeing him every day at the office makes my stomach churn. I’m strong enough to let him go, but I need space. I type up my resignation letter, and carefully fold it into thirds. I slip it into an envelope and write his name on the front.
I can accept my mother’s decision to go back to Dad—it’s her life. But I won’t repeat her past. No doubt I’m in love with Mason. But for me, love just isn’t enough.
Chapter 32
Sweat dampens the resignation letter clutched in my hand. The envelope is crinkles, and Mason’s name is smudged. Not exactly the most professional way to terminate my position with Daylight Holdings, but then, my entire time here has been marred with unprofessional behavior.
Even standing at Mason’s desk, staring at the stacks of paperwork, I don’t regret the decisions that landed me in this predicament. My thoughts stray to all the times I’ve been bent over this desk, bare ass in the air, Mason’s tongue between my legs, and I shoulder the first suffering blow of doubt.
Am I ready to give all of this up?
Give him up?
The chance of something more?
Mason’s not in the office.
I’m not sure if I should be relieved to find him out, but a part of me is disappointed. Maybe if we saw one another, maybe he would ask me not to go.
I breathe in his scent like some damn stalker, and realize I don’t have much of a choice. He all but broke things off with me, and besides—Mason is incapable of giving me what I need. What I deserve.
My heart pounds like a kick drum.
Carefully, I set the letter on his keyboard, where I know it won’t get lost among the other papers scattered across his desk. The motion brings the screen to life, free from its usual password protection. My stomach clenches. Mason only leaves the screen live when he’s following a transaction.
I glance up, expecting to see him glowering at me through the doorway, but he’s still at his meeting.
Step away, Liv.
I will my legs to find strength. To walk out that door, never to return. But a ping from the laptop pulls my attention. The open page on the screen looks familiar. Peering closer, I realize that it’s the same bad trade he began a few days ago when I found him drunk at his apartment. A shiver goes down my spine.
This is a bad move.
Daylight Holdings stands to lose millions of dollars, and while I know that’s just a drop in the bucket for Mason, the fact that he hasn’t cleared it with his partners will further drive a wedge between them. I can’t let that happen.
But what are my options?
Mason made it clear never to second guess him, and I’ve been wrong before. Millions of dollars’ worth of wrong. I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating my choices. Mason Wood is a financial genius. Daylight Holdings is one of the top hedge fund companies in the world.
I scroll through the data, and my skin prickles in goose bumps.
The company doesn’t stand to lose millions—it could lose hundreds of millions.
There’s too much leverage in the trade, if it goes sideways the ramifications could be disastrous.
Fuck.
I dial Mason’s cell, and it goes straight to voice mail. I hang up before leaving a message. Then I text him 911 to let him know how important this is.
My fingernails tap on his desk. My eyes skim over the envelope. I’m done here, resignation effective immediately. This trade—good, bad, or indifferent—isn’t my concern.
The countdown ticks down.
I hold my breath. Think, Liv.
What if I called Lucas? No, not Lucas, Holden. My fingers hover the keys, weighing the risks. Even if I stop the trade, they’ll still know that Mason went behind their back, and the only thing I’ll have saved is their bank account.
My stomach flips over.
Sweat breaks out across the nape of my neck.
Trust your instincts.
Isn’t this what Mason has talked about? The moment of truth. My gut tells me to stop the trade and suffer the consequences. But my gut hasn’t exactly been a harbinger of good fortune lately.
Just pull the trigger.
What if I’m wrong, though?
What if he has some sort of tip I don’t know about?
Do the right thing. Do what’s in your gut, Liv.
That’s what a real day trader with killer instinct would do. She’d forget about the devilish whisper on her s
houlder telling her to back away. Stay cautious. After all these months, I’m still wavering. Scared to trust my inner compass.
But it’s not just the planner in me that hesitates.
I shouldn’t even be touching Mason’s computer. That rule was made clear on my first day, with dire consequences should I cross that line. I have no right to question his decisions—Mason Wood is the CEO. With my resignation letter typed and presented, I’m not even an employee, anymore.
I close my eyes and will back the tears. I wish things were different, that Mason would have let down the walls that keep his heart caged. Or at least that I’d been bolder, tried breaking down the barriers myself. I should have fought for us. For what I want. Instead, I’m taking the easy way out—exactly what I told Mason I wouldn’t ever do.
I stand, draw in a juddering breath, and exhale.
I’ve tried to call him.
That’s all I can do.
I set the envelope back on the keyboard and turn away. But pin pricks of doubt chip away at my resolve. I shake the mouse to bring the screen into focus, and note the clock ticking down on the trade. My stomach twists into a knot. Mason is making a mistake.
One that could cost him everything.
I tap the keyboard lightly, fingers hovering.
Fifteen seconds.
Stop the trade.
I cry out a soft whisper of distress. My heart beats so fast it’s about to pop through my chest.
Ten seconds.
Nine.
Fuck it.
I hit delete.
My relief comes out in a whoosh as the numbers begin to flash on the screen and the market moves.
Thank god I cancelled the trade.
It would have been a bloodbath.
He likely would have been fired for it, drummed out of the business for such a costly screw up.
I was right. Tears spring to my eyes and I blink them back, sucking is gulps of air. Pride swells in my chest, overshadowing the sadness of knowing that just as I figure things out, I’m walking out the door for good.
Fate is a cruel mistress.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
My head snaps upright at the roar of Mason’s angry voice. I take a step back from the computer, tripping over his chair. My hip hits the edge of the desk, and I mutter a curse. For the first time since I started working at Daylight Holdings the bruise on my ass will be of my own doing.
I hold my hands up. “I can explain.”
Mason doesn’t appear interested in what I have to say. He storms toward his desk with large strides. My heart leaps up into my throat. He’s pissed—holy fuck is he mad. He yanks the computer around, shifting the envelope to his desk, and slams the lid closed. “This is confidential business.”
“I know, I—”
“I’m not interested in excuses, Miss Landers. This rule is non-negotia—” His attention is drawn to the envelope, and the smudged lettering across the center. “What’s this?”
I swallow hard. He takes out my letter and unfolds the paper, his expression hardening as he reads the words I’ve committed to memory. Thank you for this opportunity. I regret to inform you...
“You can’t quit,” he says, incredulous.
He’s disappointed, surprisingly so.
“I think it’s for the best,” I say.
Here I could launch into a lengthy rationale for my decision, but the look on his face suggests he isn’t interested in my reasons. He tosses the letter in the garbage. “I see.”
“Thank you for the opportunity,” I say, echoing the sentiment of my letter.
Mason glowers at me. “I gave you a job when no one else would hire you, taught you everything I know,” he says, voice low and raw with disgust. “And this is how you repay me?”
My heart begins to gallop.
“I shouldn’t be surprised.” His sneer goes colder, meaner. “You’ve just proven you don’t have the chops to make it as a day trader.”
“Fuck you,” I snap, feeling my spine straighten under the pressure. “Maybe if you stopped wallowing in pity and gave me a god damn chance, you’d see I’m smarter than you give me credit for. I just saved your company a shit ton of money.”
His eyebrow lifts.
“Consider it my parting gift,” I say, rendering him speechless for perhaps the first time ever.
And with that, I spin on my heel, and walk out the door, knowing I did and said what was needed.
Maybe I did learn something from him after all.
How to be a ruthless shark.
Chapter 33
Bypassing Misty, I storm through to the office where day traders tap away at their cubicles. Not one of them bothers to look up at me, all engrossed in their work.
Now that I’ve quit this job, I’m back to square one. The one perfect trade I made Mason doesn’t even fucking know about, so I can’t even add it to my resume. My career in finance has come to an abrupt end. That’ll sure make Mom proud.
Blinded by rage, I weave through the workstations, my hackles rising with every ping or telephone ringing. I’ve wanted to be a part of this world for as long as I can remember, but now, I just want to get home.
Back to my apartment.
The exit sign looms, a glowing beacon of freedom. I’ll take the back stairs to avoid the elevator. The workout will do me some good, give me a chance to clear my head and figure out next steps.
“Olivia! Wait!”
Mason’s voice freezes me in place. I can feel the weight of more than a dozen eyes on me. My spine stiffens. I don’t want to turn around, but his presence pulls at me like a marionette.
Slowly, I pivot, and gasp when I see him running toward me. His shirt is wrinkled, untucked. There’s a look if desperation in his eyes. It’s like he’s come unhinged.
My pulse spikes.
Every cell in my body screams at me to run away, but I’m paralyzed under his stare.
“Liv, listen,” he says, breathless. In my peripheral vision I can see that no one is working, as though his voice has somehow frozen time. Hands hover over keyboards, cell phones linger mid-air, jaws hang open. His voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You saved this company.” He comes right up to me, closes his hand around my wrist. “I went through my trading history,” he says, “and it’s so damn obvious that I was the one who fucked up. I could have lost the company untold millions of dollars. But you intervened and you saved my ass.”
“I tried to tell you,” I say, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. I’m not comfortable under the spotlight, and a room full of shocked employees hearing every word we say to each other.
“I was blind,” he says. He lifts my chin so that our eyes connect. “But my eyes are wide open now, Liv. I wasn’t able to see, to allow for what was happening right under my nose. But the truth is, Liv, I love you. I’m in love with you.”
My head goes fuzzy. “Love?”
I blink, positive that he’s about to disappear, that this is all just a figment of my imagination, some final cruel joke. But he’s not gone. He’s moved closer, and there’s a tenderness in his expression that makes my knees buckle.
“It’s true,” he says, taking my shaking hands in his. “I need you. The industry needs you. I was wrong to say you’re not cut out to be a day trader.” He gives me that boyish grin that ratchets up my pulse. “You’ve got guts, Liv. And you deserve a position here—or at any firm of your choosing. I’ll make that happen.”
My throat goes dry.
“You should have the best,” he says. He bites his lip and then sighs. “And that probably isn’t working for me. I haven’t treated you right. So, you name it. Any top firm in the world, and I’ll secure you a position.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “You’d really let me work somewhere else?”
“If it means keeping you—forever—then yes,” he says. “Daylight Holdings will make that sacrifice.”
My stomach flips with indecision. A position at this firm is tempting, but
even with this confession, I’ll always question my instincts. I need to cut myself loose—from Daylight Holdings at least—if I’m to forge my own career path. Regardless of what happens next with our relationship, that hasn’t changed.
“Okay, I accept,” I say, still nervous this is all a big joke. “I’d like to work at Venture Capital…”
His nose scrunches. “With those yahoos?”
“They’re in New York,” I say pointedly, which means Mason and I still have a chance.
His eyebrow lifts. “What I meant to say is, that’s a great firm. I’ll make the call.”
There’s a beat of awkward silence, as I try to process everything that’s happening. We’re still in the middle of the room, with all of the junior day traders staring us as if we’re animals on exhibit at the zoo. I lick my lips. Mason drops his gaze.
“I’d like to kiss you, now, if that’s okay.”
My throat swells. “Here?”
He nods.
“Okay.”
It’s almost a shock when his lips press against mine. I close my eyes automatically, but when I open them, I find his open too. Blue, and placid, they’re level and intent, glassy with passion. I try to pull back, aware that people surround us. Mason’s hands slide around to cradle my head as he pulls me close.
His tongue flicks between my lips and my body ignites in response. I reach up to tangle my hands in his hair, melting as his teeth grate against my swollen lips. When at last, we finally pull apart, I sway, knees buckling, eyes brimming with tears.
I have never been happier and more in love.
Epilogue
Mason’s fingertips drag across my skin, lingering in my cleavage before he flicks his thumb across my nipples, already taut with anticipation. A lazy smile curls the edges of my mouth. “I thought you’d be too tired after last night,” I say, teasing.
We spent the evening christening every room in our new penthouse apartment. Making love amid the boxes of our collective unpacked things. The King-size bed isn’t even put together—we’re stretched out on the mattress, staring up at the skylight that is bright with early morning sun.
