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CHAPTER 2
Mason
Saturday meetings were Mason’s least favorite part of his job, something every other Dom at Fairford Manor knew. Even if he didn’t bitch every time one rolled around—which he absolutely did, at length—he gave each of them a mug printed with This Meeting Could’ve Been an Email for Christmas last year.
Subtlety wasn’t exactly his strong suit.
Yet Jonathan insisted they all meet in the dining room at least one Saturday a month, after all the guests checked out at eleven. He always gave some bullshit line about the partners needing to meet face-to-face to ensure their business relationship stayed strong and the Manor ran smoothly. Even though Leo, the only silent partner, attended a few times a year at most, and Jonathan didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.
Mason ignored the Manor’s senior partner and head Dom as he prattled on about the New Year’s Eve party he’d given Zach, Nell, and Olivia permission to throw. As if Mason cared. New Year’s Eve was in three days. Even if he did have objections, it was too late to do anything about it.
“How long has this party been planned?” Mason interrupted, doing his best to sound bored. Acting never came easily to him, though, so he mostly just sounded pissed off.
A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw ticked. “The three of them asked for permission shortly after the Halloween party,” he said, his arched brow clearly adding, Are you seriously challenging me about this? Of all fucking things? “Given how successful that was, I saw no reason to deny them.”
“Oh yes, very successful,” Mason drawled. “I especially enjoyed the attempted kidnapping of one of our guests.”
Rafe, the oldest of the Manor Doms, who Mason and the other founding partners brought in a couple years after they opened, practically growled in response. “Leave Nell out of this.”
It had been nearly two months since Nell, Rafe’s guest-turned-girlfriend, almost got kidnapped by her stalker ex during the party. Not that it was her fault. That guy was an abusive motherfucker to the highest degree, and Mason had been more than happy to restrain him while they waited for the police to arrive.
In all honesty, even he enjoyed the party before that all went down.
Which meant he was bitching for the sake of it, and he damn well knew it. He just couldn’t stand things that wasted his time.
Skipping breakfast this morning definitely didn’t help matters.
Looking Rafe in the eyes, he said, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You know how much I like Nell.” It was just weird as fuck that his friends/business partners started pairing off in the last year and a half. First Aiden fell head over heels for Olivia, and the two were sure to announce their wedding date any day now.
Then Rafe got involved with Nell. Zach, the Manor’s receptionist and overall boy Friday, confided that he suspected the pair planned to leave Vermont sometime next year. How they could even consider it when they’d only known each other for two months was beyond him, and it would majorly fuck over the Manor.
Rafe took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s fine. But maybe keep in mind that these meetings you complain about so much last longer because of all your whining.” What sounded like months of pent-up frustration spilled into the man’s voice. “If you just shut your damn mouth and let Jonathan say his piece, we’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”
“I don’t—” Mason let the objection trail off, knowing anything he said would be a lie. Lying never came easily to him either.
He didn’t even know why the meetings pissed him off so much. They didn’t used to—not for the first several years. It was only within the last year or so that any mention of the mandatory monthly meetings made his teeth grind.
“Sorry,” he said again, not quite able to meet any of their eyes. “Maybe I need to stop skipping breakfast on Saturday mornings.”
“Did I hear that someone’s hangry?” Gabriel said in an annoyingly cheerful voice.
Mason whipped around in his chair in time to see the head chef bustle through the kitchen door with an enormous wooden tray.
Laughing, Camden asked, “Were you listening at the door, waiting for the perfect time to make an entrance?”
Gabriel grinned in response, the smile lines around his eyes long and deep. “A tasty treat for you,” he said, depositing his tray in the middle of the table. Five salad plates held cinnamon rolls the size of softballs and slathered in icing. Gabriel handed them out around the table, followed by silverware, and finally mugs of coffee prepared to each Dom’s personal preference.
The fact that they were all in This Meeting Could’ve Been an Email mugs didn’t improve Mason’s mood in the least.
“To what do we owe this lovely surprise?” Aiden said, cutting away a bite and popping it into his mouth.
Rather than answer, Gabriel watched intently as Aiden started to chew, then froze, his eyes going round. The chef’s smile grew even wider, delight filling his bright eyes.
“Holy shit,” Aiden said, already cutting off another huge bite. The others followed his lead, hurrying to test out Gabriel’s newest creation, each making a similar declaration upon tasting their cinnamon rolls.
All except Mason. His gaze remained locked on Gabriel, watching the look of triumph on his face grow stronger and stronger as the men ate. What the fuck was he up to?
“Dude, this is incredible,” Camden said, cutting off another huge chunk and loading up his fork. “This might be my new favorite breakfast.”
