Page 84 of House of Payne
“What makes you think I’m asking? It’s an order, London. I’ll be expecting you in one hour. Don’t be late.”
“And if I don’t show up?”
Mason gives me a pointed look. “The deals of the contract were clear. You know what’ll happen if you don’t honor your end of the bargain.”
I frown.
A heartbeat later, Mason crosses over to the door and leaves, the smell of his earthy cologne lingering, making the butterflies in my stomach erupt into a frenzy.
Carlisle is at my door an hour later. I resist the urge to smooth out my dress and snatch a jacket off the hanger to give my fingers something to do. Carlisle doesn’t say anything as I hurry behind him and out into the cold night. He leads me into the mansion and we ascend the stairs leading to a large arch and two marble columns.
Carlisle pauses in front of the door and gives a quick rap.
You’re just here because of the contract. It doesn’t mean anything else.
A woman with dark, braided hair and skin-tight clothes answers the door, and I don’t miss the look that passes between her and Carlisle.
Before I can dwell on it, she motions to me, and I follow her down the marble foyer in a trance. She leads me down a carpeted hallway with paintings and closed doors on either side.
The hallway opens into a living room with a fireplace, a leather couch set, and a dining room table set with candles and fine china.
Mason is at the head of the table in his usual suit, sipping from a glass of amber liquid.
His grip tightens on the glass when he sees me, and a flicker moves over his face.
Suddenly, we’re back in the library, and my throat is very, very dry.
I’m breathless with anticipation when his gaze flicks away.
“You’ll be serving us tonight, Katia,” Mason tells the woman without looking at her. “Tell the chef he can start.”
Katia disappears into the shadows, and I linger on the other side of the table, my stomach doing somersaults.
Being here with him in an intimate setting doesn’t feel wrong.
I hate that it doesn’t make me want to run.
Now that you no longer have Noah between you, what happens next?
I shake my head and select a chair as far from him as possible. Before I can sit, Mason pulls out the chair next to him and gives me a pointed look.
For a moment, I wonder if he will drag me there.
But he stands still and expectant, and I scowl as I stomp over to him and lower myself onto the chair.
This isn’t a battle I want to wage with him after the day I’ve had.
I don’t know what kind of mood Mason is in, but I don’t feel like finding out.
My heart is already so heavy.
Mason polishes off the rest of his drink and takes his place again at the head of the table. “I knew I’d eventually make you see reason.”
I reach for the bottle of wine and pour a generous amount. “You think you’ve won because I’m sitting where you want me to? I’m just trying to save myself the headache.”
I’m in no mood for a sparring match.
Not with Mason or anyone else.
