Page 58 of House of Payne
“You know what this means,” Mason growls. “I’m assuming you want to keep your limbs intact.”
The blond man steps back and throws up his hands. “We didn’t mean any harm. We’ll go now.”
Mason locks his jaw and says nothing.
I wrench my hand away as soon as à l gone. “What does the bracelet mean?”
Mason rounds on me, and the look in his eyes makes my knees weak. “It means that you’re mine, and no one else is allowed to fuck with you.”
I hold his gaze and ignore the tremor rising within me. “I’m not yours.”
“You will be. In the meantime, you have a job to do.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns and leaves me alone with a strange ache in my stomach.
What exactly have I agreed to?
Chapter Fourteen
London
“I’m almost done.” I skirt around a man and a woman with their hands all over each other and narrowly avoid getting trampled by a group who race past with a slew of toys. With a sigh, I duck into another room, rag tossed over my shoulders, and glance around. The sheets are rumpled, and there’s the smell of sweat and something else I can’t identify, but the room is mostly clean.
Still, I venture in and go to the nearest table.
After clearing everything into the trash can, I reach for the rag and wipe it down. Then, I duck into the bathroom and flick on the light. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust, and as soon as they do, I exhale and square my shoulders.
It’s only been a few days, and I’m already tired of the job.
While the cleaning is fine, and the rhythmic motion of wiping down tables and mopping floors is oddly soothing, I could do without the constant eyes on me everywhere I go.
Undressing me. Sizing me up.
A few men have even approached me, but one look at the bracelet on my wrist sends them packing.
At least for now.
I’m not sure how much clout and fear Mason has over them, but I amgrateful for the jewelry on my wrist. I have no intention of giving in to Mason or anyone else, and knowing that it keeps them at bay is comforting. It’s been one of the few things keeping me sane over the past few days while the rest of my world descends further into chaos.
Since the first day, I’ve tried to avoid watching any of the activities, afraid of my reaction to the women who are being exploited.
But at night, when my guard comes down and I’m lying alone in my small bed, listening to the wind outside my window, I relive the scenes and the ecstasy on the women’s faces. Each day I spend away from Noah, further cementing our dynamic, the harder it is.
The ache in my heart is almost enough for me to forget about how Mason made me feel in the library.
While I haven’t had much of a chance to see him, each time I do is a shock to my system.
I can’t understand my visceral reaction to him or the deep and primal pull he has on me, nor do I want to.
I don’t have the luxury.
As thankful as I am that he gave me a chance to work off my father’s debt, and for the bracelet that allows me to focus on my job, I’m aware of the ticking clock over my head. Each day, I go to work with my heart in my throat, glancing over my shoulder for him. At night, when I walk to the worker’s residence, I think I see him lingering in the shadows, watching and waiting for me.
How much patience does he have?
I have no idea, and I’m afraid of his reaction when he reaches his threshold.
Or maybe you’re more worried about yourself and what will happen if you stay here long enough. You know something inside of you likes watching women being fucked, and you want to know what it feels like.
