“It’s a construction zone. There are signs to warn people—”
“Are there?”
“Yes.”
“Are there enough? Are you sure?”
He’s the one to step forward now, and—what is it? What is it?—something about the way he moves is different. I would be curious if I wasn’t so angry, if I wasn’t so scared. More terrified by the minute. “No,” I admit. “I’m not sure. But I bet you are, because you’re a stalker with nothing else to do but ruin my life.”
“Ruin your life?” Mason puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of compassion. “I’m saving your life, Ms. Van Kempt. Can you imagine the lawsuits if a person were killed by your father’s recklessness? It’s not a construction zone if there’s no crew.”
“One contractor quit. Not everyone.”
“No, it’s all of them. No licensed contractor will work on a project that doesn’t have a permit.”
“We have a permit.”
He waits, and my stomach turns to knots, tighter and tighter until I can’t breathe.
“You got the department to revoke it.”
“Oh, yes. Safety is so important to the reputation of our city. Can’t have residents and tourists in harm’s way. I was only doing my civic duty.”
“We can’t build without that permit. Even if I—even if—”
“Even if you went to an outside firm, someone who had no knowledge of the city, they wouldn’t take the job.” A mean, beautiful grin. “The commissioner trusts me. I have been fucking meticulous when it comes to safety standards in all my projects. In all my investments. They won’t grant Cornerstone another permit unless and until I’m attached to the project.”
The air in the room is so thin, but the force of it presses in tight around my body. This was a trap. I should have known it was a trap the minute I met Mason Hill. But I didn’t know. I was foolish, and I was hopeful, and I thought this would be simple. Not necessarily easy, but simple. Signatures on paper. Notarized documents. Bank transfers.
There’s a knot in my throat. “And you won’t be attached until I agree to your terms.”
“It’s a pleasure to watch you arrive at this conclusion, Ms. Van Kempt. But you’ll have to do more than agree.”
“What more?”
Another dark grin. Not until you beg.
That’s what he said to me as I stormed out of his office, hot with shame and justified anger. I was sure I would never beg him—not for anything. But here I am, needing something.
I don’t know whether I’m numb or on fire. I think it might be both. I reach for my necklace without thinking and my fingertips brush over soft skin. Mason’s eyes track the movement. The suit, the office—it’s all to create an illusion that he’s not a dangerous man. That he’s not a predator hunting prey. But that’s what he is.
And I’m cornered.
The pressure intensifies. My parents are waiting at home right now in a house that’s falling to pieces around us. An empty, rattling house that won’t be able to keep itself standing. Cornerstone will crumble soon enough if the construction doesn’t continue. Every day that passes without construction crews makes it less likely that the project will ever be finished, and more likely that we’ll lose our house.
Salt stings the corners of my eyes. My chin is doing that thing it does when I’m about to cry.
Nothing has ever been this bad.
He’s so close now that the scent of his skin is in the air between us, already touching me. And worse than the obvious glee he’s taking in doing this to me, far, far worse, is that he smells so good that I’ve shifted my weight forward. Like my body wants to be closer to him.
“It won’t be the same offer as before.” I manage to say this without shedding a tear. It won’t be long, I don’t think. “It’ll be worse now. Won’t it?”
“A matter of perspective.” Mason is like a magnetic field. I feel pulled toward him, almost desperate to touch him, to see if he’s real. If a person can actually be this cruel and this attractive at the same time. “It’ll be significantly more entertaining for me.”
“Tell me what it is.”
He puts one big, strong hand under my chin and tilts my face up in a firm grip. I shiver in it, though his hand isn’t cold. His touch is warm. Possessive. As if this is already a done deal and not something I could walk away from.
Right. Because I can’t. I have no other choice. No choice but to agree. No choice but to look into his eyes. They take my breath away. Not just green—a sunburst of yellow around his pupils.
“Not just one night, Ms. Van Kempt. Every Friday until the project is complete.”
I swallow, and his eyes drop down to where his hand is a quarter inch from my beating pulse. “And you’ll make sure Cornerstone gets built? There will be a schedule? We’ll sell the property after it’s done?”
“Your cut will be enough to dig Daddy out of debt and then some.”
A nod that he barely allows. “What are you going to do to me?”
The smile is a sunset that burns down into a glittering night. All of those grins, all of those smirks—they were hiding what was underneath. His expression now makes my pulse race. It makes my face burn.
I’m terrified. Humiliated.
And...
I can’t say it. Can’t think it. Can’t let him be right one more time.
“Are you sure you want to know, Ms. Van Kempt?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He leans in close and lets his breath brush the shell of my ear. Lets his grip on my chin tighten by slow degrees until I gasp. “Whatever I fucking want.”
Mason seals this promise with a deep, vicious kiss. So hard that I cry out into his mouth. So violent that I kiss him back.
He pulls back far enough to study me. His eyes burn my skin. “You’re not finished yet,” he says.
I know what he wants.
He told me himself at our very first meeting. He’d planted the vision in my head. Me, on my knees. It might be better that way. His bruising grip on my face means I can’t hide. There’s no distance.
He wants me to beg.
My mouth goes dry. “Please.”
Mason scoffs. “You don’t want this.”
It feels like blades on my insides. “Please. Offer us a deal. Offer—offer me a deal.”
“I’m still not convinced, Ms. Van Kempt.”
“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know.” I’m not a person who gets panicked, but he makes me feel that way. He makes uncertainty rise until it crests. “No one has ever made me—”
“Figure it out,” he snaps. “You’ll do many things for me that you haven’t done before. Start now, before I lose interest. You’re very pretty, but too proud.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Please sign a deal with me. Please, please, please.”
He shakes my face, a quick, possessive jerk that makes my skin combust. “If you’re going to beg, you’ll need to include a reason. What do you want, Ms. Van Kempt, and why?”
A single tear escapes and runs down my cheek. “Please sign a deal with me,” I beg, my voice choked with fear—with more than fear. “Please. Because you’re the only one in the city who can—you’re the only one who can save us. We need you. I need you.”