Page 21 of Played
His jaw works. “Mason?” There’s a plea to his tone, but I ignore it. Manipulative bastard.
“The update?”
He takes a few steps toward me. Instinct tells me to back away, but pride roots me to the spot. “I just want to explain?—”
“I don’t give a single fuck what you want to explain!” I roar, eighteen years’ worth of anger and hurt spilling out into a single moment. “Give me the fucking update and get the hell out of my building.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “In fact, I don’t give a fuck about any update, because as of right now, you no longer work here. You are no longer contracted to do whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing. And if you have a problem with that, if you think any NDA you signed will be null because you’re not getting a dime of my family’s money, then you’re wrong. My brothers will tie you up in court for the rest of your miserable fucking life.”
He clenches his jaw, his green eyes smoldering. “I have no intention of breaching any NDA.” His voice is calm and soft, like rich velvet brushing over my skin. I recall it all too well. “Let mesay my piece, and then, if you still want me to, I’ll walk out of here and you never have to see me again.”
The latter would certainly be a welcome outcome. I glare at him and will my knees to stop fucking trembling. Seems KingWorthingtonstill has the same effect on me after all these years. “You have sixty seconds before I have security toss you out of here.”
“I know I shouldn’t have accepted this job. But I worked for Drake in Chicago?—”
“Yeah. He told me all about you. The hotshot? Had no idea it was you, though.” Disdain drips from my tone, so unmistakable that even King, who has the emotional intelligence of a tadpole, could pick up on it. And he does.
Scowling, he takes a few more steps toward me, and now we’re only a few feet apart. Again, self-preservation tells me to run, but my ego makes me take a step closer. “If you’re only giving me sixty seconds to say my piece, then don’t fucking interrupt me, Playboy.”
Playboy? Arrogant fuck! I inhale a deep breath that has my nostrils flaring. “So speak, Hotshot.”
“Drake asked me, and I…” He scrubs a hand over his buzz cut. “I honestly wish I could tell you why I said yes, Mase.”
Mase? What the hell gives him the right to call me that? I hate that my body responds on instinct when he does though. I despise remembering how good it felt when he whispered that name in my ear. How he moaned it when I made him lose control. “To torture me, maybe? To tell me how disgusting I am, just in case I forgot? I mean, it has been eighteen years, so maybe you figured I was due a reminder.”
The pain that flashes in his eyes only stokes my anger. How fucking dare he act hurt after what he did. “No, nothing like that,” he says. “Maybe I thought it would be my chance to say I’m s?—”
“I swear to god. If you tell me you’re sorry, I will throw you through that fucking window.” His Adam’s apple bobs, drawing my eye to the thick dusting of stubble covering his jaw and neck. “The time for sorry has long since fucking passed, King Worthington. Or is it Blackthorn now? Did you change your name in the hopes I might not recognize you?”
It’s fury flashing in his eyes now. “Of course I knew you’d recognize me. For fuck’s sake, we were…” He growls and shakes his head, unable even now to say what we were to each other. Clearly he’s still disgusted by it. “I changed my name because I didn’t want to be associated with my father.”
His father. I stagger back a step. Kyngston Worthington III. Sick, twisted fuck. Bile surges up from my stomach, burning the back of my throat.
“Mase.” King’s hand is on my forearm. “Are you okay?”
I shrug him off. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He doesn’t get to pretend like he cares. I wonder if he knows what his father did. I’ve convinced myself that he couldn’t have. It was the only way to survive it.
“Okay.” He backs off, holding his hands up in surrender. “You looked a little…”
“What?” I snarl, regaining my composure. Ten long years of therapy helped me deal with what King’s father did to me, and I won’t let it take up any space inside my head. Not sure any amount of therapy could fix what King broke though. “Like I’d seen a ghost? Just what the fuck are you doing here, King? No more bullshit. I’m not some sixteen-year-old kid who thinks the sun shines out of your ass anymore. Give me the truth or get the fuck out.”
“The simple truth is I needed a job. I needed an interesting job that doesn’t make me want to gouge out my own fucking eyes. I swear if I have to record one more dude fucking a womanyoung enough to be his daughter, I will lose my goddamn will to live.”
“Well, being honest, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
“If we’re being honest,” he replies, “then I also took the job because I am fucking good at what I do.”
“Yeah, Hotshot. I get it.”
His green eyes narrow. Good. He’s pissed at me, and I’m fucking glad about it. I can’t believe he walked in here and intruded on my life, thinking it was okay. “I think I can find whoever the leak is,” he says. “And I already know it’s not one of the people who worked on the patent.”
I suspected that too, but I’ve worked with these people for twelve years. How can he be so sure after only two days? “How do you know that?”
“I met with them. I was granted full access to their personnel files. And I just know. I can read people.”
“You can, huh? Then you must know exactly what I’m thinking right now.” I smirk at him in challenge, and he takes it.
Nodding, he steps closer, leaving us only inches apart. “You’re thinking about how much you want to hate me.”
