Page 62 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Millie

Washington, D.C.

2019

After Mason left this morning, I knew what I had to do. I packed up and left Virginia Beach for good. If I was going to finish what I started, I couldn’t have any more distractions and Mason had become a huge distraction.

My boss agreed to send me back over to Bosnia so I could focus only on finding Yusef Hadzic. His father had given me a little to go on, so I’ll start there and stay in Bosnia for as long as they let me. I’m set to fly out tomorrow with just enough time to tie up some loose ends, which unfortunately includes the dinner I promised Drew. I’m dreading it, but if it has to happen to finally end our relationship, then it’s going to happen before I leave.

Drew is waiting for me outside the restaurant when my car pulls up. Surprisingly, he’s smiling. He hugs me and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Hey, you look good. Our table should be ready,” he says, guiding me towards the door.

I think for a second about just ending it with him on the street and getting back into my car and heading home, but he has a firm grip on my shoulders, and I let him guide me into the restaurant. The minute we walk in, I sense Mason in the room. I can feel his eyes on me, hear his breathing, smell his scent. My eyes dart around the room to find him. I don’t see him, but I know he’s here surveilling me from some remote corner of the room.

“Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost,” Drew says. He grabs my arm and pulls me after the maître d who leads us to our table.

As we walk through the dining room, I suddenly realize what it must be like to have a rifle leveled at you. That little target light right on your chest, following you everywhere you move. Mason is definitely here, and he’s tracking me.

Drew is done ordering the wine. I try to act normal and focus on the business at hand. But I find it hard to even have small talk. I excuse myself to use the restroom. I head that way, but make a quick move to the patio door where I’m out of Drew’s sight. I get outside, weave through the patio tables, and walk around a wall until I’m completely out of sight of the restaurant. I’ve barely stopped when I can feel Mason behind me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask without turning around.

“You know what I’m doing here,” he growls.

“You can’t be here, Mason. I’m with my boyfriend.” I don’t tell him I’m here to break up with Drew. I want him to think we’re still together. I want him to leave.

He puts his hands on my shoulders. I try to shake them off with no luck. He pulls me back toward him while he turns me to face him. He’s positioned me about five inches from his body, his hands still holding my shoulders firmly. I don’t want to look up. I just stare at his chest. He’s breathing hard. I’m watch his chest rise and fall, transfixed by it.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is gruff and edgy.

I try to shake off his hands again, and this time he lets me. I take a step back and look up at him. “I had to get back to D.C. This is where I live.”

“You haven’t answered any of my calls.” He leans back on the wall so we’re almost face-to-face. He tries to grab my hand, but I jerk it away from him.

“I’ve been busy, Mason,” I say as I take another step back.

“So, the other night, that morning, it just didn’t happen?”

I don’t reply.

“Millie, look at me. Just look at me for a second, please.”

I steel myself and look up. “Mason, you’ve got to leave. I’m sorry. It’s just too complicated. Please, just go.”

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me. Until you tell me why.” He steps forward quickly, grabs me, and spins me around. His arms and legs both surround me as he presses me against the wall.

“Mason, don’t. . .” My voice barely registers the protest as he starts kissing my neck. My arms instinctively start to climb up his chest.

“I’m here with my boyfriend.” My voice keeps trying to protest while my body keeps betraying it.

“But, where do you want to be?” His lips have moved to my face. They’re gently moving over my forehead, my cheeks, my nose.

My body melts into him, a small moan escaping from my lips just as his lips find them. God, the way he was kissing me. Hungry. Aggressive. Not asking for permission. It was every cocky thing I hate in a man. Every man except him. My mind finally re-engages. I try to push his chest away. It doesn’t move. I try to work my way out of his hold, but his arms propel me back to the center like a boxer bouncing off the ropes.

I look up, my eyes pleading. “Mason, please. Please let me go.”

He lets me go immediately and steps back, his hands up like he’s showing he’s not going to hurt me. I turn quickly to go back into the restaurant and see Drew standing there, staring at us.

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