He pushes at the door with one hand, doing something so that it’s held open. It will be even more awkward to go out the other side of the door, so I don’t. I pretend to search for my phone while he angles her away from me, his hand dropping down to rest for a moment on the swell of her belly. It’s so intimate and sweet that my throat tightens. The way she looks at him makes the rest of the world seem like a painted backdrop.
I get my phone into my hand and swipe at the screen, glancing up one more time to see if there’s an opening to flee.
I don’t see one. I see Haley in her dress the color of a robin’s egg and Leo in his dark clothes, and past them, his secretary’s office and a wide hallway. At the end of that hallway is a glassed-in meeting room.
And in that meeting room is Mason Hill.
He leans against the table, arms folded over his chest.
He’s looking right at me.
A wolfish grin spreads across his handsome face, and my gut plummets through all the floors of the building below me. Frigid cold flashes through my veins. The burn comes next, along with the steep drop of understanding.
This is not a random coincidence. He’s here because he wanted me to see him here. After eight meetings, he wanted to watch the final rejection himself. Well, he didn’t get to see it in person. He didn’t. Because the doors to Leo Morelli’s office are heavy and opaque.
It doesn’t matter. He can see me now. He can see me in my handmade skirt suit and my cardboard heels. He can see me armorless. Defenseless. Defeated.
Screw that. I’ll never let him see me defeated.
I lift my chin and meet his eyes, even though I’d rather sink down to the floor and curl up in a dramatic ball until everyone went home for the day and I could go home in peace.
His grin gets wider. More sharply satisfied. My heart pounds. I tried to forget about Mason Hill, but he didn’t forget about me. He’s been pulling the strings on all these rejections. Getting to each company first. Whispering in their ear about how they shouldn’t trust me. How they shouldn’t sign a deal with me. He probably talked about my cheap shoes and my father’s drinking problem and all the things I’ve failed to keep together.
I wouldn’t be surprised if this building collapsed under my feet, just like everything else.
He would love that.
Mason Hill would love to destroy me.
6
Mason
Leo is almost finished cursing me out when I toss my keys at my building’s valet and punch the button for the elevator.
“Next time you ask me for a bullshit favor like this, I’m making you sit in on the meeting.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“There sure as hell won’t. Just ask her on a date, Mason. Don’t have your friends do it.”
I snort a laugh into the phone. “This has nothing to do with romance.”
“Of course it does. Women love fucked-up games like that from bastards like you.” I don’t know whether his tone is best described as sarcastic or venomous or both. “I want an explanation. A real one. I just turned down a real goddamn deal for you. And almost made her cry.”
Did Charlotte Van Kempt almost cry? It would be good if she did. My revenge plot has been twisted inside out by her arrival in it, and it makes me feel feral. She has added a certain dimension to all this. Charlotte isn’t revenge in the abstract—she’s a blushing, pissed-off woman who has run around the city trying to find other deals. She won’t win, but I’ve had to leverage my connections.
Leo did me a favor when I showed up at his office five minutes prior to the meeting. I had to trade on our friendship to get it done. I was acquaintances with him years ago because we both ran on our respective prep school track teams. He dropped out abruptly just when things were getting interesting in high school. Never did find out why.
Anyway, we move in the same circles now that I’ve built the family business back up.
“I’ll tell you at the next card game. Or at the benefit.” Some bullshit happening at the botanical gardens. I almost never show up to those things.
“Liar.” He hangs up before I can say anything else, which is fine, because the elevator is letting me out into my penthouse. I shrug off my suit jacket in the foyer and hang it on one of the hooks there, then go to the other end of the open-plan great room, where there is a large dining table. Sit down in the nearest chair. Stretch.
My knee burns today, in addition to its usual ache. Like the tendons might snap.
It’ll let up with a few minutes of peace, looking out through the oversized windows at the skyline.
Forget that—one minute of peace. I can hear the elevator going down already. Gabriel will be coming up with it. He’s always slightly early, like he’s afraid he’ll miss something crucial if he’s even one minute late. It’s a life philosophy I find simultaneously irritating and accurate. Lives can be ruined in the space of minutes. Seconds. In the time it takes for a building to catch fire and for that fire to burn out the floor. The ceiling. Everything.
The elevator arrives some forty-five seconds later. “Mason?”
Gabriel practically sings my name. I don’t know if he remembers that our mother used to sound like that. Like our names were a melody. She’s been dead a long time. There’s no telling which intangibles have been lost to the years.
I could ask him if he remembers. But I won’t.
“In here.”
I get up before Gabriel enters, one of my kitchen staff coming from the opposite direction. Pots clang together in the kitchen, muted by the doors. I’m hoping having extra staff will keep tension to a minimum and keep everyone on their best behavior for this first brunch. Namely Jameson, who is never on his best behavior. Hasn’t been for years.
Neither of my brothers are going to ruin this. Not today.
Gabriel approaches the dining table still on his phone. He has the same dark hair and green eyes as me, but we look nothing alike. I’m dark where he’s light. I’m serious where he’s playful. I’m a hardass where he’s the consummate charmer. He taps out the rest of his message.
“Rude as fuck, Gabriel. Get off your phone before you enter a room.”
He gives me a delighted grin. It’s a smile that’s closed million dollar deals. “You could do the right thing and cancel this brunch. Reschedule it for...never.”
“Why would I do that? You love to visit home.”
“Sure. It’s your sunny personality I came for.” Another grin. He’s a favorite at every party he walks into, God knows why. A favorite at every event he puts on.
I make an expansive gesture at the table, set with my finest china. “I set the table just for you.”
“You don’t set the table yourself. You have staff for that. It’s Saturday. Why are you dressed for the office?”
“None of your business.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“No.”
“Oh. Then I guess I don’t give a fuck about being rude.” Everything he says is light and measured. Playful and cutting. People want to be around Gabriel.
I worry about the easy way he moves through the world.
It’s too normal for the lives we’ve led.