Page 24 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

“Three hundred and fifty is more than three hundred and fifteen,” I asked, my brow furrowed as if in deep concentration. “Or less? I forget, I’m not a math major.”

“Fuck you,” she said playfully, punching me in the arm. “Best two out of three!”

In the end, I won the contest, but before I could collect on my wager my phone dinged.

“Oh shit,” I groaned when I saw the message.

“What?”

“It’s the firm. A European company is trying a hostile takeover on one of our major holdings. I’ve got to go.”

“It’s okay, my friends will understand. We can take cabs—”

“Why?” I kissed her on the lips, suddenly, breathlessly. I just wanted to so bad I couldn’t help it. She melted into my arms, and it was with great reluctance that I broke away from her.

“I really do have to go. But I’ll tell my driver to take you all home.”

“What are you going to do?”

“One of my partners is on their way here as we speak. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

We headed out into the night. It wasn’t long before Stan the Man showed up in his Bentley.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said, smiling and maybe blushing a little. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

I hugged her, and whispered in her ear.

“Don’t think that I forgot about our little bet, Megan. I intend to collect.”

I kissed her, hard and deep. Then I had to leave, because Stan was laying on the horn.

Our emergency meeting resulted in several stop-gap measures that allowed us to retain control of the holding—for the moment.

The meeting went well into the small hours of the night. Somewhere around the fifth cup of coffee or so, I developed a headache. An electrolyte imbalance from eating all the salty pizza, maybe.

Fortunately, I was able to stabilize by eating some Greek yogurt and a fresh nectarine. I was feeling much better by the time the meeting actually ended just before dawn.

“Hey,” Stan said as I yawned my way toward the exit. “Want to satisfy my curiosity?”

“Fuck no. I want to crawl into bed and collapse.”

“What in God’s name were you doing at a kid’s pizza casino?”

“Having a blast, if you must know.”

“Oh, I must!” He laughed. “Was your having a blast related in any way, shape or form to the young lady I found you with?”

“Maybe.”

I made it to the elevator and pushed the call button. When the doors slid open, I almost shuffled right into the firm’s private investigator, Jack.

Jack is a woman in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. It’s hard to tell. She dresses in men’s suits with a bit of a throwback flair. Her fedora calls back to gumshoes from the 1930s, probably on purpose. With her weird fashion sense and multiple piercings, she’d fit in great with Megan’s crowd, really.

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