Page 31 of If You Could Only Imagine
I lost all the breath in my chest. “Fuck, Mase,” I sighed. “I’m so fucking sorr-”
He held a hand up. “You don’t have to apologize to me for shit, Aid,” he said, interrupting me. “I don’t give a fuck about anything except Shane, you, Gabriel, Michael, and now, Denise. If Dad wants a war, then we’ll go to war. If the employees want to quit, sue or waver in their loyalty, then so be it. I’ll sell this entire empire off brick by fucking brick and live the rest of my days lying in bed with Shane.”
I closed my eyes and let the calm settle in my blood. When I opened them, I looked at my brother and said, “Thanks, Mason.”
“What do you want me to do about my meeting with Denise?” he asked.
“Whatever you want,” I answered. “Just as long as she doesn’t leave me, Mason.”
Chapter 17
Denise~
I was hiding in the women’s restroom again, only this time, it wasn’t because I was afraid of jumping Aiden’s bones.
No. This time, I was hiding because shame was coursing through every fiber of my being and I didn’t know how to handle it.
When I had spoken to Marcy about what happened between me and Aiden, she had floored me when she told me she had already known about my association with Aiden. Apparently, after that first day when we shook hands, he had met with Marcy to tell her he thought she ought to know that we were dating, and he wanted everything to be aboveboard and handled in good taste.
I had wanted to cry.
I sat and listened Marcy’s recount of events and it appeared as if Aiden made it sound like we’ve been dating for some time now and he was just following procedure now that he was in his official capacity as head of Finance.
She also let me know that Shane Buchanan had already approached her about recruiting me to be on her team, therefore, eliminating any inappropriateness with Aiden being my boss’ boss.
He never once said anything to me about talking with HR.
And now, I was hiding in the restroom right before my meeting with Mason Buchanan, trying not to let my shame consume me. It had embarrassed me to have to speak with Marcy. It embarrassed me to know that my co-workers were speculating about me and Aiden. I was embarrassed that I had been persuaded by a gorgeous face and hot body.
But what had really driven me into this bathroom stall?
The second I had emerged from my meeting with Marcy, Sarah had taken me aside and told me she heard there had been a huge physical altercation between Aiden and his father, Harold Buchanan. At first, her words weren’t really penetrating my mind, but then she said the buzz was that it was about Aiden dating me and his father’s objection to the color of my skin.
The heartbreak that fissured my chest took me back to my childhood and all the times I witnessed how people would look at my parents. It reminded me of strained family gatherings, not because my parents’ families were racists, but because I remembered the looks we’d get getting out of the car when we visited them.
There’s no way Harold Buchanan would let any of his sons bring a woman who was not white into the Buchanan folds. It didn’t matter that I was only half Black.
And the shit of it all?
I actually liked Aiden Buchanan.
He was funny, sweet, nice, gorgeous, caring, and by all accounts, a gentleman. Other than his little moment of idiocy, during that meeting with Raymond Sampson, he’s done nothing but treat me with want, respect and kindness.
I just didn’t know what to do.
But, whatever the answer, I knew I wouldn’t find it hiding in the women’s restroom at work. I had to pull myself together and go meet with Mason Fucking Buchanan.
Ten minutes later-and the pep talk of a lifetime-I was knocking on Mason Buchanan’s office door. I was waiting for him to call me in, but what I wasn’t expecting was for the man, himself, to open the door and escort me in.
He smiled at me, and stepped back, allowing enough room for me to pass. “Hello, Ms. Hart,” he greeted, following in behind me.
I wrung my hands together in front of me as I watched him walk past me and back to his desk. “Go…Good Morning, Mr. Buchanan,” I replied as professionally as I could.
He gestured for me to take a seat and waited to sit until I was comfortably seated. “Would you like anything to drink?” he asked, surprising the crap out of me.
My hands were still wringing in my lap. “Uh…uhm, no, thank you, sir.”
Mason smiled again. “You may call me Mason, Ms. Hart.” His all-knowing eyes were full of mirth. “I think it’s safe to say we might be past formalities at this point, don’t you think?”
