Page 81 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

He was going to ask me to move in with him, obviously.

The clues were all there. I had caught him talking to members of his firm, trying to shuffle around schedules so he would have a chunk of time available. Three days to be exact.

That chunk of time he had requested off was coming up that very night, hence my excitement.

It seemed only natural that I move in with Mason. I spent the night at his place more often than I did on my own. However, there’s an important milestone in a relationship when it pertains to moving in together.

It would be like playing house, only for real. A testing of the waters to see if we would be good marriage material.

Which I found to be a ridiculous notion. Obviously, we had what it took to keep going for the long run. At least, it was obvious to me.

Even after Mason and I had reconciled, it took me a while to really trust him. Not through any fault of his own, but because of my own issues with betrayal and abandonment. Mason was patient while I worked it out and made sure that he never put me in a position like the one he had with Brian and the gallery again.

Over time, I had come to realize I did trust him. I knew that even if he weren’t perfect, he always tried to make decisions with my best interests at heart.

I put on a little bit of red lipstick that Mason had bought for me, a shade called—I shit you not—Do Me Red. Then I stood back and did a little twirl in front of my mirror.

Of course, I was going to tell Mason yes. To say otherwise never even entered into the equation.

Mason always walked up to my apartment to greet me at the door. Always. That night was no exception. When I saw him in his Ralph Lauren ivory shirt and tailored charcoal slacks, I knew he had something big planned for the evening.

“You look lovely tonight,” he said, azure-eyed gaze glowing as he swept it up and down my form.

I did a pirouette for him, and then we laughed and he kissed me. I pressed my body against him, wondering if we would spend the night at his place, or come back to mine for one last utter defilement.

He walked me to the limo, holding the door open for me. A dozen red roses awaited me there, along with a big teddy bear and an edible fruit arrangement.

“Wow, you’re pulling out all the stops tonight,” I said.

“Well, how often do we get to attend a public screening of El Santo Versus the Vampire Women?”

I grinned. “Never, up to this point. It was very generous of you to give your copy of the film to the Dauphin Theater on permanent loan.”

“A movie that is great deserves to be seen. Besides, they know a lot more about the restoration and preservation of celluloid than I have time to learn.”

We reached the Dauphin theater, where a red carpet awaited the VIPs. This included the grandson of the original El Santo, who was carrying on his family tradition, as well as us apparently.

It wasn’t a major Hollywood premiere, so there weren’t hordes of paparazzi around. However, Mason was a major financier and I was an up and coming artist, so there were some camera bulbs flashing as we walked the red carpet. I would have felt self-conscious before, but I was far past that now.

I had come to realize that I didn't care what everyone thought about how I looked, only Mason, and he said my real beauty was in my heart.

The Dauphin theater was an upscale venue which showed arthouse and foreign films to high class and wealthy patrons. On that night, we had one of the primo seats in a balcony complete with our own table and wait staff.

There was pink champagne on ice sitting upon the table, along with more flowers. I began to feel a little embarrassed for Mason’s sake. Really, he didn’t have to go through all that trouble just to ask me to move in with him.

He pulled out my chair for me, and sat down beside me. We both sat on the same side of the table so as to see the projection screen, but I took advantage of the situation by grinding my hip up against his own. I flashed him a smile that said I definitely wanted to call it an early night—without any intention of getting sleep.

The lights dimmed as we dined on Hors d'oeuvres and sipped champagne. The title screen came up and an appreciative cheer rippled through the crowd.

I felt almost as if our grandfathers were there, watching the movie with us. Even if they weren’t there physically, they were there in spirit. I’m next to certain about that.

It was a lot of fun watching the film with Mason for the first time. For example, I learned that the Saintmobile was a Jaguar XK and that Mason had attempted to bid on it in an online auction several years back, only to have a storm knock out his internet at the last moment.

At the end of the movie, there was a small cocktail party on the lobby floor, in front of the big screen. Mason and I put in an appearance, chatted with some of the people there, but both of us were anxious to get going.

The only problem was the date was nearly over and Mason had yet to ask me to move in with him. I was starting to think it was just a date—a special date, to be sure, but one without any ulterior motives other than making me happy.

I almost let it go, but as we approached the limo, I decided I just couldn’t.

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