Page 20 of Played
“I met Rick a few weeks later, and he finally cured me of my Mason James habit.”
Well, that’s good to know. I think. “So now we’re friends because…?”
“Because you’re funny and smart, and I get to be entertained by your exciting love life.” He nudges my elbow. “How many of these greedy young tech geniuses have you fucked so far?” The conference center is filled with hundreds of young smartly dressed men and women who are just starting out in the careers and will no doubt be hanging on my every word when I deliver the keynote speech tomorrow. “I only got here this morning, Sean.”
“Only two or three, then?” He snorts a laugh.
I straighten my tie. “I don’t fuck people I work with. And you don’t count because we didn’t work together then.”
“I do miss the freedom sometimes though,” he says with a wistful sigh. “I adore Rick and want to wake up with only him for the rest of my life, but it’s still quite the realization when you’re confronted with the fact that this is it.”
“Mr. James?” The woman who interrupts our conversation introduces herself as Dana, the VP of a new start-up that is looking for investors. She tells me what a huge fan she is and how much she’s looking forward to my speech, but I’m uncharacteristically distracted.
Ordinarily, I’d be listening intently to Dana’s pitch, because that’s what it is, and I’d probably give her some pointers too. But I’m only half listening. The other half of my brain is replaying my conversation with Sean and dissecting everything he said.
Just because he had that experience doesn’t mean I’m a tornado blowing in and out of people’s lives. Does it? While I do remain friends with most of my exes, it’s not forbenefits, at least not on my part. I go over and over it, trying to think of other examples where guys have wanted more than I could offer. I’m sure there must have been some, but I’m usually checked out of the relationship before any meaningful conversations about feelings can take place. And like Sean said, I’m totally up front about my expectations, so why the hell is this bothering me now when it hasn’t for years?
And then I recall what he said about only waking up with one person for the rest of your life. I can’t imagine what that would feel like. Only knowing one body. One person’s likes and dislikes. What makes them tick. What makes them fall apart and rebuild. It’s not something I have any interest in, so why does what he said play over and over in my head all damn afternoon and into the evening? So much so that when the hot-as-fuck bartender at my hotel—who is exactly my type with a dusting of stubble and tattoos running all the way down to his knuckles—suggests we “grab a drink” after his shift finishes, I tell him Ihave to be up early for work. Not a lie, but also not a factor that’s ever stopped me from taking a guy back to my room before.
I almost convince myself it’s because I’m tired and that it has nothing to do with my chat with Sean earlier today. Almost.
Chapter
Ten
MASON
“How was the trip, Boss?” Hayden asks in greeting. The human resources executive is perched on the edge of my secretary’s desk outside my office like he’s been waiting for my return.
Please tell me there’s been no more drama in my absence.Elijah didn’t mention any, but sometimes Hayden likes to filter bad news through me instead of taking it to my older brother.
“Good. Got what I needed to do done. Everything okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. I was just passing by your office and…” He looks at the closed door. “Wondered if you were back yet, and then I saw you walking down the hall.”
“Hey!” Elijah places a warm, strong hand on my shoulder from behind. “It’s good to have you back. I have someone you need to meet.”
I suspect it’s the hotshot.He started Monday, and Elijah says he’s good, so he must be. My brother isn’t easily impressed. But that’s all I know about the guy. Since his work for our company isn’t exactly common knowledge, I don’t ask for more details in front of Hayden.
I follow Elijah to his office, and Hotshot is already there, staring out the window with his back to us. His arms are crossed and his shoulder muscles bulge against the fabric of the tight white T-shirt he’s wearing. Guy is fucking huge and not exactly inconspicuous. What kind of auditor wears jeans and a T-shirt and looks like a linebacker?
“Mason, I’d like you to meet King Blackthorn.”
King? The shadow of a memory associated with that name burrows to the surface, and he turns around at the sound of my brother’s voice. The second our eyes meet, I am assaulted by so many memories that it feels like someone has punched me in the stomach. I’m certain all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. My head spins, my heart pounding. I’m going to pass out. Or have a stroke. Through sheer force of will, I force myself to look him in the eye and not run out of Elijah’s office.
“Hi, Mason.” He has the gall to say my name, to speak to me like nothing ever happened. As though eighteen years ago he didn’t rip out my heart and stomp all over it. And suddenly I’m that kid again, feeling worthless and used and…
I draw in a breath and push down the hurt dredged up at the mere sight of him.
So he’s going to pretend that this is all normal? That he and I don’t share a deeply fucked-up history? I focus on my rage and shove aside the maelstrom of other unpleasant emotions swirling through my body. Two can play at that game,Hotshot. “Mr. Blackthorn. Nice to meet you.” My voice is calm and even despite every cell in my body vibrating with anger.
Elijah checks his watch and winces. “I have to meet a new client. King, can you bring Mason up to speed on what you’ve discovered so far?” My older brother, oblivious to the suffocating tension in the room, claps me on the back. “I’ll catch up with you later, and you can tell me all about Philly.”
I don’t answer, keeping my gaze trained on the asshole on the other side of the room, the one who’s staring at me like I’m the problem. A few seconds later, Elijah is closing the door behind him. Leaving me alone with a man I’d really like to kick in the balls rather than speak to.
I fold my arms across my chest. My stomach rolls. The sooner I get out of this room and away from him, the better. But I’ll be fucked if I give him the satisfaction of leaving first. We stare at each other, engaged in a twisted game of chicken.
Annoyingly, it’s me who can’t stand the awkward silence any longer. “So, Mr. Blackthorn. What is it you’d like to update me on before you leave?”
