Page 13 of The Eleventh Hour

“Not to me.”

I shrug. “Let's escape before she finds us.”

River doesn’t move. I follow his gaze and freeze. It’s like I’m a little kid again. She’s stunning, clean, with hair that’s almost white. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The coldest, most glamorous woman I’ve had the misfortune to meet. She’s my stepmother.

And she hates me just as much, or maybe more than, she did when she met me when I was nine years old, clinging to my estranged father’s hand like he was the only lifeline in the entire inhospitable world.

“Jeraldine. It’s so nice to see you again. Thank you for the invitation.” My words are painfully precise and polite.

“You weren’t invited,” she says flatly.

“Dad invited her.”

Jeraldine freezes before she smiles once more. “No matter. You may leave.”

“Afraid not. People want to speak to me.” Anything I can do that will upset her is my number one priority.

She descends the stairs slowly, and I wait, hating the sound of her heels on marble. It reminds me of too many cold, lonely nights facing off with her. Painful nights. She turned the promise of home into a battleground.

Her dress swishes across the floor, and the reflection makes her look like the demon she is under the skin.

“You didn’t even bother to try to hide how you’ve let yourself go. No makeup. Jeans and a t-shirt. Have you been living in a hole in the ground? Is this how you embarrass your father?”

“To be honest, I am surprised you know what a t-shirt is,” I snipe back. “And I like my curves. Bobby said I’d have a full roster if I ever took him up and decided to pimp myself out.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and I know I’ve scored a direct hit.

“There are curves, darling, and rolls. You carry rolls. Refrain from talking about your friends whilst you are in my house.” Jeraldine puts a perfectly manicured finger to a perfect peach lip. “I do not want you here. No one wants you here.”

“I do,” River says quietly. We both ignore him.

“I do not give a flying fuck what you want, Jeraldine, you should know that by now.” I imitate the crisp tone she took with me.

She steps closer, and I step, too, so we are standing almost chest-to-chest. The days of her ability to intimidate me are long gone.

“Mrs Harmon, Mr Harmon would like to speak with you.”

She gives me a level look, one last warning sneer, and then spins on her expensive heel and stalks off. River glances at me and takes off after her. I know what he’s doing, and it makes me feel like a shitty sister. Arguing my side against his own mother, the boy, well, man, now has never stopped fighting for me. Which is why I will do everything I can to make sure he never knows where I’ve been.

A throat clears, and I look away from the door. My stomach flips violently and memories slam into me. The man is tall, with huge shoulders, his gold hair is tied back, and his jaw is smooth. Mason Lyons is a stunningly beautiful man and has been in my family’s life forever. His father served mine, and when he went off and became a security specialist, they hired him.

“Miss Blac-”

I throw myself into his arms, hugging him tight. “Fuck, Mase, I missed you!”

His arms come around me and hold just as tightly, but not tight enough. As always, the line between us comes down thick and fast. I’m the boss’s daughter, and he’s an employee. He lets go and steps back, clearing his throat.

“Jax Shade, Mason, I changed my name. Please don’t forget.” I pause and look him over. He looks good. When I was younger, I had a mad crush on him for far too many years. He was all I thought of, while work was all he thought of. It was a hard wake up call. “You look like you stacked on another layer of muscles while I was gone.”

He chuckles and squeezes me into an almost painful hug, finally breaking from his rigorous pretense. “It's so good to see you.”

I pat his back awkwardly, hating that when he sniffs my hair, instead of feeling flattered, I want to put twenty feet between us. “You, too.”

He puts me down and puts a hand on my lower back. I ignore the way his thumb strokes or how my skin crawls. I’m just grateful for my jacket. “Your father would like to see you.”

And this is why my teenage obsession died. Mason is a stickler for rules, and his loyalty to my family is absolute. It’s disgusting. I didn’t want to be second to my father’s wishes. And Mason will never put me first. It’s why when Louis came along, I didn’t look back.

“Lead the way.” I slip out from under his arm and ignore the crestfallen look he casts me.

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