Page 37 of The Secrets He Keeps

Chapter Eleven

“Hiya, Lissy.” Masonsauntered into Callista’s personal study. It was a rare occasion her brother visited Pendragon’s these days now that he had a family to care for and protect. But when he did, it was always unexpected and usually at the worst possible time.

Today was no exception. It was the morning after her grandest party of the year...the morning after her night with Erik Maxwell...

Though she’d changed into a slightly more comfortable day gown, she hadn’t slept yet and her mood was growing more atrocious by the minute.

“What the hell do you want, Mace?”

Her brother’s expression was one of false shock and insult. “Can’t a man visit his only sister for no reason?”

“Not you,” she snapped.

He grinned. Settling his overly large, muscled frame into one of the chairs facing her desk, he tilted his head and arched his brows. “What’s the matter? You’re particularly prickly today.”

“It was a long night.”

“Right! The event of the year. Not the success you’d hoped?”

“It was a crush,” she replied flatly. “Early estimates suggest it was the most profitable night in Pendragon’s history.”

“Hmm.”

She didn’t like it when Mason made that sound. It meant he was thinking. And that was never a good thing. Whenever he used that clever brain of his, he ended up saying something she didn’t want to hear.

“It’s that Maxwell bloke, isn’t it?”

Dammit.

Something in her expression must have confirmed his assumption since Mason burst into laughter. It was a rich and hearty sound that warmed her despite herself.

He’d had too little cause for laughter as a boy. She’d been born twelve years before her little half brother, and though she’d tried to shield him from the worst of their shared father, she hadn’t always succeeded. And then she’d been forced to leave. Eventually, she managed to get Mason out of the hovel they’d come from, but she’d always wished she could have done more in his youngest years.

But now he had Katherine. And Claire and Freddie. Her brother was doing all right.

Some might suggest he was doing even better than she was herself.

Rising from her seat behind the desk, she wandered across the room. It was a foolish attempt at avoiding the conversation looming ahead of her. Foolish because Mason was not likely to let the topic die.

And because a part of her actually wanted to talk about the man who’d been haunting her thoughts since he’d risen from her bed.

“Talk to me.”

Looking over her shoulder, she noted her brother’s stern countenance and the shadow of concern in his green eyes, just a couple shades darker than her own.

For so long, he’d been the only person she’d truly cared about.

Of course, she cared for the women who came under her protection, but in the way of benefactor, guardian, and mentor. Her feelings for Mason were different. He was her only family. Her blood. Looking at him now and seeing his protective, supportive demeanor, she had to admit that although she’d helped him in a myriad of ways, she had never been very good at showing him what he meant to her.

Her chest ached with the acknowledgement. Damn, but she was terrible at this emotional shite.

Mason rose to his feet and rolled his head atop his broad shoulders. “Do I need to go have a talk with the arsehole?”

She rolled her eyes. “No.” The next breath she took caused the ache in her chest to tighten rather painfully. “But I might be long overdue for one.”

He appeared startled for a moment before he stepped forward, his hands rising as if to offer an embrace. But then he recalled himself and lowered his hands to his sides. “What’s this about, Lissy?”

Meeting her brother’s intent gaze, she felt a prickling pressure behind her eyes she hadn’t known in decades. “I fucked up, Mace.”

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