Page 49 of Mason

Instead, he simply exhaled a stream of smoke and said, “Mind if I make a few calls before I go?”

Like I could ever tell him no.

Like I don’t already owe him for everything he’s done for me.

So I nodded, pretending like it didn’t affect me, like the sight of him standing there—effortlessly lethal—wasn’t unraveling me thread by thread.

I could watch him all day.

Could trace the way the sunlight catches in the sharp angles of his face, the way his fingers move when he takes a drag of his cigarette, the way his body tenses slightly as he listens to whatever bad news is undoubtedly being fed to him.

I could memorize all of it and still never get bored.

But I don’t.

Because that would be dangerous.

Because this—whatever it is between us—is already skating dangerously close to something neither of us is ready for.

I swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat and force myself to step away from the window.

To move.

To let go of whatever this pull is before it swallows me whole.

But as I walk toward the bathroom, I can still feel him.

Still feel his presence, coiled around me like a promise.

And no matter how hard I try, I know I’ll never be able to wash him off me.

16

MASON

Ipull away from Shelby, stepping back just enough to put space between us. The warmth of her skin lingers on mine, the faint scent of her still clinging to me, wrapping around me like a tether.

I should leave.

But I already know I’ll be back.

Because now that I’ve had a taste of Shelby Monroe, there’s no turning away from her.

I roll my shoulders, exhaling slowly as I head for the door, already shifting my focus to what needs to be handled next.

Clay Monroe, for one. His meeting with my lawyer is today, and I need to make sure the final pieces of his release are falling into place.

Then there’s the Kadri issue. Altin Kadri has been a thorn in our side for too long, and it’s time to move the right chess pieces, setting up the perfect checkmate. It’s time to eliminate him once and for all.

But neither of those things is as pressing as what I need to do next.

Mia. My daughter.

The thought claws at my chest, twists something sharp inside me.

I have to see her. I have to tell her the truth. Because if the past few days have given me anything, it’s clarity.

I made the decision while I was locked up—one I’ve spent every single day since questioning.

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