Page 5 of No Control

“Yeah,” I mutter, tapping the folder to view the new contents. “And you’ll stay here until I’m done with this.”

He sighs but doesn’t protest. After all, he screwed this up in the first place. I should’ve never relied on him to gather it all, but I had a high-profile target to take care of that took months of stalking and waiting. The moment the job was complete, I’d taken over Lydia… And trusted that Jude had done his job.

Stupid me.

But all thoughts about it dissipate as I begin to flip through the information Jude failed to put in the right place. I chew the inside of my cheek until I taste copper, scrolling through sickening pictures of the two of them together.

Mason Prewitt.

I read up on his stats, unimpressed to find that he’s a car salesman at a local dealership—though that’s just his most recent acquisition. As it turns out, Mr. Prewitt is a job hopper…

With plenty of downtime between.

“Talk about some low expectations,” I mumble, mostly to myself. She can do so much better.

“Yeah, the guy is a real piece of work. They live together at a house Lydia owns—but he does rent an apartment about twenty minutes away. I think she pays most of the bills when her beau doesn’t have a job. However, in her defense, when they first got together, the guy appeared top notch. He was first of his graduating class at the state university, and he seemed to be going places with high profile internships and all that academic jazz.”

“Hmm,” I say, as if I actually give a shit at all about Mason Prewitt.

“They’ve been engaged for about three months, and from what I’ve gathered, I can’t find an actual date set for a wedding. I’m not sure which one is holding off on that.”

Hopefully, Lydia.

“He’s close with her family, but you know, she doesn't appear to be.”

“You just trying to piss me off?”

“No…It’s just the same information I always give to you. Henry, as a friend, is this...” Jude’s voice trails off in a way that catches my attention. “Is this a romantic interest?"

“With Mason?” I break out into a sardonic laugh. “Absolutely not.”

three

Lydia

"So, this is the contract,” I say, pulling it from my bag and handing it over to Mason, who’s munching on a breadstick already. “I just…I don’t know. The guy kind of made me feel…uncomfortable.”

“Any time you have to talk to someone in person, you feel that way,” Mason thrums, taking the papers from my hand. “But I’ll look at it. It’s not like you have to take this job, anyway. You have plenty of other options. You just never take them.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, running my fingers along the sticky tabletop. I don’t know who was in charge of cleaning it, but they didn’t do a spectacular job. However, it serves as a short-lived distraction from the sting of his words. “I also could take the free time in my schedule to work on my own stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“You know, the series I started working on,” I try to prod his memory. “I told you all about them.”

“Yeah, right. Sorry. You know I don’t like to read that stuff.”

“Right. History only.” I keep my voice calm and collected, my eyes shifting out the window we’re seated beside. It’s nearly dark out now, and I find myself replaying the meeting with Henry over and over again in my head.

There’s just something about him...

“This is wild!” Mason exclaims, dropping his breadstick to the ceramic plate. “Did you see this, Lyd? A fucking hundred grand for a book!”

“What?” I reach for the papers, snatching it from his hands. “That can’t be right. That’s like celebrity memoir writing...” But as my eyes land on the bolded amount, a lump forms in my throat. It is right.

And half gets paid upfront.

“What kind of services does this guy want from you?” Mason’s dark eyes meet mine, and I catch myself hesitating. “Well?”

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