Page 52 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

In fact, the day was going so well I shouldn’t have been surprised when it took a sudden nosedive. Hell, I should have been expecting it.

A knock came at my door. My first thought was that it would be Mason, but then I remembered that he had meetings until late that night.

I opened the door a crack, using the privacy chain, and groaned when I saw who stood there. A five-foot-nothing, red-haired, freckled, smarmy piece of peacocking work named Brian Schrauth.

About as useless as a screen door on a submarine, Brian was my ex-boyfriend. I was at a really low point in my life and he was good at making me feel special—at first.

He was the type of man who would worm his way into your life and your heart by being just so attentive, and adoring, and funny and charming, that you don’t notice that he’s moved in and quit his job until you’re in too deep to do anything about it.

When we broke up, it was because he refused to find work and was content to sit around my apartment all day—not cleaning up or anything, of course—and let me work two jobs to make rent.

The way he tells it, I was a cold bitch who only cared about money and mercilessly threw him out onto the street because he lost his job—through no fault of his own, of course.

Brian used to draw a lot. He was pretty good, an excellent cartoonist style. He could have had his own syndicated comic strip, I don’t doubt that. Or maybe worked for Disney or a comic book company.

But he’d decided that drawing pictures wasn’t ‘cool’ enough. That’s not how he put it, of course. He claimed art was too ‘hard’ and demanded too much of him, so he was far better suited to being a rock star or an actor.

Number of musical instruments he knew how to play? Zero. Number of times I’d heard him sing? Zero. Number of times he’d acted or even expressed interest in acting? Zero. It was all about looking for a way to stroke his ego and have people look up to him.

Of course, at the time, he had me pretty wrapped around his finger. I believed all his hard-luck stories about how none of the things that happened to him were his fault. I supported him while he went to acting classes and tried to get parts at the community theater.

Eventually I’d come to my senses, with a little help from the Bohemians and my best friend Sage. But the damage had been done.

In fact, Brian had made me swear off dating for over a year and a half. Until Mason just sort of swept that no dating rule right out of the way with his smile, and the way he seemed to treasure me.

Just seeing Brian made me panic, made me anxious that Mason wasn’t really into me at all. That all those sweet things he said were lies to get what he wanted from me.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said. “Go away, Brian. I told you never to come back here.”

I closed the door and latched it. Brian knocked again.

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that. I’m not here for the reasons you probably think I am.”

“Oh, well, since I THINK you’re here to destroy my life again, I don’t think I’m going to take the chance on opening this door.”

“Me-gan,” he said in that whiny tone I hated. How could a man consider himself to be an Alpha when he whined like that? Mason didn’t whine. “Come on. I just want to talk to you. I swear to God it will be worth your while.”

“You’re an atheist,” I said through the door.

“Fine, I swear on my father’s grave.”

“Your father is still alive, I saw him at Whole Foods last week.”

“All right, fine. What if I promise, absolutely promise, that I’m not trying to get back with you. Come on, I heard you got a new boyfriend. I’m not here for any of that.”

“Then what are you here for, Brian?” I groaned. “I thought I packed up the rest of your stuff ages ago.”

“I can get you an exhibit at a gallery.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not bullshit. I own a gallery now. It’s in Jersey, but it’s big, legit, and classy.”

“Bullshit. How in the hell would a guy who lives in his mom’s basement afford to buy a gallery?”

“My aunt Delilah croaked six months ago, and she left me some money.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said. “Not that I believe a word of this.”

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