Page 68 of Played
I roll onto my side and stare at him. He has his eyes closed and a shit-eating grin on his face. Whatever this thing is between us, it can’t last. He’ll never admit to the world who he really is. But I can live with that. I just won’t let him break my heart this time.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
KING
Ipull out my cell phone and dial Mason’s number, already regretting not heading straight to his office after my meeting with Kendra McIntyre, the owner of Matrix, the club where Cassidy Jones worked. It was a productive use of my time though. The owner gave me insight into the clientele and confirmed my father wasn’t a regular patron. He only ever seemed to be there when Cassidy was working.
Matrix is closer to my apartment, but the latter is missing one vital thing—Mason fucking James.
“Hey, calling to check in,” I tell him. “I don’t have anything significant to update, but I’m not going to make it to your office.”
“Where are you?” he asks.
The door to my apartment snaps shut behind me. “I literally just got home.”
“Fuck.” He lets out a sigh. “I wish I was there with you. I have back-to-back meetings until seven. Remind me to pass our European clients to our new marketing VP when she starts.”
I kick off my boots. “I wish you were here too, Playboy. I fucking miss you.”
He laughs, and I smile at the sound, loving that he laughs so easily with me. “You saw me six hours ago. But yeah, I missyou too.” With those last few words, his tone changes from light to deep and husky. Predictably, my cock twitches in response. “I have a favor to ask, actually. Well, not so much a favor as a request.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“I totally forgot I agreed to go to a play tonight,” he explains. “It’s starring an old friend of mine, and it’s his first Broadway show. He usually does movies, so he’s kind of nervous, and he sent me a couple of tickets. I promised I’d be there. You want to come with me? We could grab something to eat after.”
My skin itches. “Like a date?”
“No. Like two people going to see a show together and getting some food afterward. I promise to be a gentleman and not even try to hold your hand. I’ll only refer to you as bro or dude if that makes you feel better.”
Fucking Smartass. “A Broadway show though?”
Mason’s laugh fills my ears. “Relax, Hotshot. It’s notStarlight Express. It’s a serious play. So will you come with me or not?”
I really fucking want to, but the idea of someone seeing us together and somehow guessing what we are to each other scares the hell out of me. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mase.”
It’s a few seconds before he speaks again. “Okay. It’s no big deal. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The disappointment in his voice guts me.
I hang up the call and drop my head back against the sofa. Why did I say no? It’s not a date—just a show and drinks. Plenty of people do that kind of thing with friends.
Is this old friend an ex of his? Mason dated a string of high-profile actors, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s remained friends with some of them. Who am I kidding? I can pretend tonight’s not a date, but we both know it would be. Because Mason James is mine.
And I’ll be fucked if I let some A-list actor drool all over him.
I call him back, and he picks up on the second ring.
“I’ll come to the play with you.”
“Good. I’ll send a car for you at?—”
“I can make my own way, Playboy.”
He laughs. “Fine. We’ll meet inside the theater to avoid any press. I’ll text you the address. There’s a bar on the second floor. I’ll see you there at quarter to eight.”
“See you then.”
We end the call, and I lean back against my sofa again, a whole lot happier this time. I’m going on a date with Mason James, and I’m equal parts terrified and excited. I focus on the latter.
