Queen In Play (The Manhattan Tales Book 2) (22 page)

You’re living in a fantasy bubble.  This can never work out, not in reality.
I’d been keeping these worries buried deep, deep down inside because I wanted to us to be happy.  Was that selfish of me? 

We could hear the phone in Mason’s study ring incessantly.  Mason became more rigid with each ring. I pursed my lips together in a tight line as the worry began to consume me. 

Finally, he loosened himself from my embrace and left the bed.  Without a word, he pulled on a pair of thin navy sweat pants and left the bedroom.  My heart thrummed in my chest.  Intuition told me that I should be afraid.  I was scared of losing him. 

I sat upright in the bed, with a sheet wrapped around my body.  The wait seemed eternal, especially as Mason’s voice grew louder and louder.  He was at one point shouting. His end of the phone conversation was muffled, conducted behind the closed door in his office.  Still, I could hear the ferocious pitch and volume in his voice as it traveled all the way down the hall.  That level of anger only confirmed who was on the other end. I knew my chest was blotchy and flushed from my nerves.

He was gone for at least an hour.  The phone call with his father ended.  I could tell this much because the shouting match had ended.  Still, Mason remained locked away in his study.  Concerned, I left the bed with the sheet wrapped snuggly around my body.  I padded down the hall until I arrived at the door to his study.

I could hear his voice, loud and clear from the other side of the door. 

“I don’t have seventy-two hours.  I don’t even have twenty-four fucking hours.  Come to my office tomorrow at noon.”  He was not shouting, but his tone was somewhat urgent and stern.

“Bloody fucking hell.  How difficult do you have to make this?”   His tone was becoming more angry all over again.

“... Right then.  We’ll discuss it tomorrow.  Noon.”

The call ended and there was silence.  I debated whether to knock, but the door suddenly flung open and Mason stood there.  His eyes burned down on me.

“What are you doing?”  The question was like a hissing growl. 

“I was worried…”  My voice trailed because I lost the words.

His face softened, only somewhat but he remained calloused.  “Are you hungry?”

“Not anymore.”

“We’ll have takeout delivered.”  He placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the immaculate kitchen.  After rummaging through a drawer, he tossed a few menus on the breakfast bar.  He was stressed, present in body but not in mind.

“Pick what you want.”  That was an order.

I scrunched my nose.

“Mason.”  My voice snapped him to attention.  “You’re scaring me.”

His brow furrowed when I said this, and then he took me into his arms.  My small frame was consumed within the embrace of his strong arms.  He held me silently for a very long time.  It was just the two of us in the quiet of the kitchen.  I was certain he could feel my heart thrum harshly through my chest.

He kissed the top of my head and then his whisper caressed my ear.  “You needn’t worry, darling.  It will all turn out.  I’ll take care of you.  You are my light. And nothing will ever change how I love you.”

I swallowed hard when he said this.  His words almost seemed like a foreshadowing of something to come…

****

It felt a bit like the Twilight Zone.  There was something strange in the air.  Our Friday date night had been ruined when Mason’s father incessantly harassed his phone lines.  Mason had a noon meeting scheduled in his office.  It wasn’t uncharacteristic for him to go into the office for a few hours over the weekend.  He took the weekends to manage his hotel affairs.  Therefore, I didn’t think much of his Saturday office meeting.  Still, there was something off about the following week.

Mason was fiercely protective.  I wanted to get an ice cream from the parlor down the street, and he insisted that he accompany me, even though he wasn’t in the mood for ice cream.  He stood behind me while I ordered my double scoop, hovering like a bodyguard.

“Relax,” I joked lightly as I licked a few drops of melted Cherry Garcia off my fingers.  It was a particularly sticky, hot  September day and my ice cream was melting faster than I could keep up. I should have ordered a bowl, instead of a cone.

Mason’s eyes flared as he watched my lips, with entranced awe and lust.  He took my fingers and sucked on each one in turn.  My lips parted as tingles traveled down to my core.  I saw the flecks of gold and green in his light brown eyes as his heated gaze bore into me, sucking the sweet melted cream from each finger in turn.  I became oblivious to the scoop that melted down the cone, down my hand as I watched his sultry sucking and nibbling of each finger.

“Christ.  Get a room.” 

A familiar voice broke us both from our erotic moment, and I remembered we were still on a busy sidewalk, in the sweltering humidity, just outside the ice cream shop. 

I whirled toward the voice and found Ian standing there in a yankees cap.  He wore a white fitted muscle shirt that showed off the intricate tattoos that covered his biceps and forearms.  He gave me a half-smirk as he blatantly surveyed how my violet sun dress stuck damply to my form. 

Mason cleared his throat.

“Nice rock.”  Ian grinned with a wink in my direction.

“Thank you.  It belonged to Mason’s grandmother,” I explained, but Ian was more interested in staring at my cleavage.

Oddly, Mason seemed to ignore Ian’s shameless admiration.

“We should get going before we fry on this pavement,” Mason added as casually as possible.  He wrapped an arm around my waist.  “I’m sure you have things you need to get done, Mr. Brennan.”

He looked pointedly at Ian.  Ian gave a smile that could probably melt panties.

“I’ll see you both around.”  He gave Mason a wink and then continued his way down the sidewalk.

“Come along,” Mason ushered me down the sidewalk before I could process that strange run-in with Ian.  “I’m going to finish cleaning you up.”  His growl was sinful as he forcefully guided me back to the glass doors of his hotel.

****

On Monday morning, Piper called to tell me that the office was going to be slow for the week and that I didn’t need to come in.  I stared at the phone, profoundly confused.

“You can stay with Mrs. O’Malley, but give me a ring if you decide you want to go anywhere.”  Mason said gently yet with a domineering tone.

What?  Since when do I have to ask permission to go anywhere?
  Mason was never that controlling or protective in the past.

“Mason.”  I snapped, watching him get ready for work. It was about six in the morning.  I always loved watching him get ready for the office. Watching him tuck that crisp white button down over those taut olive muscles always made me wet for the rest of the day.  Today, however… I wanted answers.

“Yes, my love?”  He gave me a smile through his reflection in the mirror.  I observed how the smile did not reach his eyes, as it often did.  He observed his three-day stubble in the mirror, trying to ignore the inquisitive stare I gave him from the other side of the room.

“What’s going on?”  I asked in a snippy tone.

He turned and looked at me with a half smirk on his handsome face.  He was two seconds from charming my panties off, unless I got a grip on myself.

“You’ve been acting strange ever since your father called on our date night.”  I persisted.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that.  You know how he gets when he’s had too much of the drink.  I try not to let it affect me, but he is still my father.”  I watched him pull his light gray suit jacket over his muscled shoulders. 

I pursed my lips.  He was giving me an answer without actually giving me answers.  Evasive, at best.

“I’m going to be your wife.  You need to tell me things,” I cut in.

A smoldering gaze bore into me.  “What’s going on is this:  I’m going into the office.  I will be home for lunch, and I expect you ready and waiting in my study at one o’clock, sharp.”

“And what if I disobey?”  I narrowed my eyes, attempting to be a challenge. He was trying to distract me with sexual suggestions. Again.

His beautiful lips curled into a smile and his eyes darkened to the dare.  “Oh, I hope you do.”

He turned back to the mirror and fastened his light gray silk tie.  I was already wet and ready, and it was only six-thirty in the morning. I opened my mouth to make an argument, but he spoke instead.

“I almost forgot to tell you that I’ve been invited to a benefit on Friday evening.  I had Elizabeth mail in the RSVP a few weeks ago, but I’m bloody terrible at remembering these things.”

“That’s why you have a secretary.  She keeps your head screwed on tight.”

Mason let out a loud laugh. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and held me in place.  I wore his rumpled white button-down from the night before and my hair was a mussed mess, but he didn’t seem to care.  His hand slid slid beneath the partially-buttoned fabric and squeezed my breast.

“Mm.  Does this mean I need to order take-out for one on Friday?”  I closed my eyes.

His thumb and forefinger played with a single pink nipple, twisting and rolling it before he trailed his lips down the nape of my neck.

“Goddamn, Jillian.  No.”  His voice was gravelly between licks and nips down my neck.  “You’re my fiance, not my dirty little secret.  You’re my fiance.  I want everyone to see that you are mine on Friday evening.”

My heart fluttered wildly in my chest from those words.  I love this man, truly. Deeply.

“Everyone, including your family?”  I asked in a hushed whisper. 

His body tensed momentarily, and he retracted his hands.  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about my family.  I will deal with them in due time.”  Those words were dominant, precise and direct.

I only nodded.

“You are my family.”  His thumb and forefinger took my chin and tilted my gaze up to meet his. His eyes searched mine, wanting to be assured that I knew of his sincerity.

“I love you,” I whispered.  It was all I could say at the moment.  He knew how to leave me breathless.

“I know you do… and I know that you have been worried about my family’s reaction to our engagement.  You needn’t worry about them.  My choice is made.”

“Yes, but you know they won’t be quiet about this. Zara said-”

“Do not worry about them.  Leave me to handle it.” 

His lips planted a tender kiss on my forehead, then on my lips.  After that, he left the penthouse.

****

“Shit.  It must be unreal to have this kind of money to blow.”  Elyse stood in the sitting room of Mason’s penthouse as she held up a royal blue silk gown. 

My best friend was in awe of the private shopping spree that Mason had sent to the penthouse.  I’ve never shopped from home before, not unless it was online, and this was an entirely different experience.  There were at least a dozen gowns, shoes and jewelry to choose for tomorrow evening’s benefit.  I have never been to such a fancy event before.  Amy, Mason’s personal shopper, was present in the sitting room of the penthouse, and so was a stylist representing the boutique from which Mason placed his demands.  Still, I called Elyse for help.  I needed my best friend, and she was more than happy to offer her narrative feedback.

“This will make you look like a gold-digging whore,” she scrunched her nose and hung the skimpy blue gown back on the rack.  The stylist representing the boutique gave Elyse an icy glare, which Elyse ignored.

“What is the benefit for?”  She asked as she rummaged through the racks.

“It’s for
Kids Against Grief
.  The charity is raising money for children who have suffered grief from losing one or both parents.  It’s a really good cause.  Have you heard of this organization?”

Elyse was quiet and her face was blank.  “Yeah.”  She picked up a dress, surveyed it, and then hung it up on the rack.

“It’s just too rich for my blood.  It is ten thousand dollars a plate!” 

“I hate to break it to you, babe.  You’re marrying into that rich life.”  Elyse smiled slightly in my direction, although her blue eyes still seemed empty.

“I can still see if I can get you on the list to come tonight,” I grinned.

“Fuck no.”  Elyse answered with a slight smile.  She looked at me.  “Having to mingle with Jackson and all those rich-folk types?  I’ll pass.”

“I noticed how you specifically mentioned his name.”  I pulled a black gown from the rack and looked at it.

“Don’t get any ideas, honey.  He’s no different than those jerks I dealt with in college.”  She paused in her words for a second, then shook her head and continued perusing the selection. 

Suddenly, her face lit up.

“This one!  You have to try it on.”  She was beaming as she held a plum, floor length silk gown.  It was simple, yet stylish and elegant. 

“That is very beautiful and the color will compliment your complexion,” Amy chimed in.  She took the dress from Elyse and handed it to me.  “We may have found a winner.”