Page 34 of One Weekend in Sydney

I stare at Odette.

“Mason isn’t the person you knew ten years ago,” she says softly. “He really is a very different person now. It’s almost like what happened back then—when you broke up with him and how he was ostracised by Mooners—turned him around. So, I honestly don’t think that he would have slept with you on Friday night just for pleasure. He would have taken into account the fact that it was you. And you know what? That tells me a lot. But I’m not going to share any more of my opinion on that. You have to find out what it means to you.”

I don’t know what to say, but something about Odette’s words unlocks something in my chest. And I remember Mason—Romeo—sharing that story about the gang he unknowingly joined.

Suddenly, I want to recall every single word he said to me that night.

* * *

My heart is pounding hard as I peruse the hotel’s room service menu. We decided to have dinner in our suite, and we’ll order once Mason arrives. I’m so nervous that I don’t know what to do with myself. The relaxing effects of the three-hour girls’ spa we had this afternoon have totally evaporated.

I glance at Odette, Kelly and Anne. They’re engrossed in a conversation, and no one seems to notice my agitation. Knowing them, it’s probably intentional. They want to give me space without making a big deal out of it.

I try to sort through my jumbled thoughts. Despite my anger and shock at Romeo’s unmasking, I can’t deny the warmth that spreads through me as I recall our night together.

Romeo—Mason—was nothing but attentive and respectful the entire time I was with him, starting from when I boarded the Masks On boat. I felt no creepy vibes and didn’t experience any uncomfortable moments around him. He listened to me, really listened. And he made me feel safe.

In bed, his every touch and every whisper were electric. And he was generous—God, he was so generous—always putting my pleasure before his own. I can still feel his body pressed against mine, the heat of his lips as they brushed against my skin, the tenderness of his hands as they explored my every curve. We had a connection that went deeper than just physical— something I hadn’t felt with anyone else.

But then there’s the reality of who he is. Mason, the guy who broke my heart. The guy who left me feeling humiliated and betrayed. The guy whom I’ve spent a decade trying to forget.

I need to talk to him about his story regarding the gang that punished him by hurting his loved ones. Was he talking about me? I’m not sure, because he also left aunts, uncles and cousins at Moonstruck Cove. What if he only meant them as his loved ones? As far as I know, he’d started talking to them again ages ago, whereas if it weren’t for our accidental meeting on Friday night, we still wouldn’t have anything to do with each other.

I take a sip of my water, trying to calm the storm inside me. One thing I’m grateful for is that Mason is trying to help. He didn’t have to get involved, but he chose to, and that says something about his character. Maybe he is far from the guy I once knew.

And maybe, just maybe, he also felt the unbelievable, beyond-physical connection between us that I can’t deny, no matter how hard I try.

My lungs fill with air. Perhaps the time has come for us to have a long talk about what happened back then. Because isn’t it silly to hold on to the past when we’ve both changed a lot?

Odette’s phone vibrated with a text message. “Oh,” she said. “Mason can’t make it. He said he’ll discuss what he discovers with me during lunch tomorrow.” She looks at me with an apologetic smile. “I guess he got held up. Since you’ll be leaving before lunch, I’ll just have to update you with a phone call.”

My stomach sinks, but I nod, pretending I’m cool about it. After all the reflections I’ve done regarding the two of us, his not coming tonight is a mighty big letdown.

Doesn’t Mason want to see me again before I head back home? I guess not.

It seems he only wants to help with my new problem. Talking about our past—and resolving it—is not on his agenda.

My bad for getting my hopes up.

I’ll just have to go back home with my heart in pieces—broken by the same guy who shattered it the first time.

ChapterThirteen

MASON

Irub my eyes, grabbing my phone from the bedside table. Damn it, no message yet from the renowned team of private investigators I hired. Granted that I only called them at noon yesterday, but I’m paying them an insane amount of money to work on Tara’s case urgently. They’d better come up with the goods real soon, like they promised.

I barely slept, haunted by the look on Tara’s face when she realised I was Romeo. That propels me to keep working on finding whatever I can regarding Eric Hislop. I’ve been playing online detective from yesterday afternoon through to the wee hours of this morning, but even though I found a few things about the bastard, they won’t be enough to make a difference to Tara’s case.

Regardless, I’m not stopping. I can’t let Eric ruin not only Tara’s chances at the election but also her reputation. She doesn’t deserve it.

My phone rings, and it’s one of the heads of the private investigation firm. Finally! “Gavin, tell me you’ve got something,” I say, not bothering with pleasantries.

“I do,” he replies, his voice serious. “We dug into Arpi’s background, and his real name is Arman Pinscher. He’s a low-level grifter with a history of scams and petty crimes. He was, indeed, hired by Eric Hislop to discredit Tara.”

My grip on the phone tightens, anger coursing through me. “That bastard. Can you prove it?”

“This case was almost like looking for a needle in a haystack, but luck was on our side. We were able to track down a person who was in the right location at the right time, and her car had a dashcam. She agreed to give us the footage of Eric coming out of a bank and then handing Arman a thick envelope before getting in a waiting car and speeding off.

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