“I never thought he’d do what he did at Grandpa’s retirement either,” she adds with a note of solemnity. “But I understand why he did.” Her fingers search for something to occupy them.
We continue to wander, noting different mediums and textures, and how the directional lighting showcases each piece to perfection. With her sharp eye, she’s damn good at what she does, and the bonus? She loves her work. Other than being a mom, this is what she’s most proud of.
“The kids, Fraze and I raise together like any normal, loving parents should. I think in some ways I was sheltered a lot from what went on with Dad, Magnus, and the boys. Here I was thinking it was some elite boys’ club that I didn’t want to be a part of, anyway. If only I had known how bad it was for Mason, I would have tried harder to be more present.”
“Nic, you couldn’t have known.” My hand reaches for her trembling one.
“Ugh,” she says, shaking her head. “I knew enough. I saw enough.”
“I think he’s going to be okay, Nic.” It’s more hope than a guarantee. The walls I thought was eroding over time are being bricked up again.
“And that would be thanks to you and Trystan. We can’t thank you both enough for the support you provide him; he’s so lucky to have you both.” She nudges my arm with her own.
“I feel very lucky to have him too.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to lasso them back inside. There is nothing like telling your boss’s sister, who is his half-niece, that you’re employed by him to take care of his climaxes rather than contracts.
“And do you? Have him, I mean? I know you work for him,but I get a sense there is more brewing.”Oh, she doesn’t know the half of it. And it won’t be me telling her either. Her smile borders on wicked. Yeah, I’ve seen her uncle smile like that; it’s something in the DNA.
“He’s a fabulous boss and an even better friend, Nic,” I say, averting my eyes because I just know I’m blushing the same color as my dress.
“Bri, he brought you to our family’s home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. You were at the New Year’s Eve ball with him in that gorgeous gown. There is way more to this than meets the eye, Sabrina. Downplay it all you want, but know that in his twenty-nine years of life, he has never once brought anyone over to meet the family. Not once. Hell, I think Magnus thought he might be gay at some point.”
I stop mid-swallow. There are worse things to be. A bigot, a liar, an adulterer. Holy shit. Now I know why Mason isn’t thrilled to be out of the direct line on Michael’s side. It’s because he’s terrified of turning out like his actual father, considering one half of his pristine but flawed DNA flows through him. Magnus Mercer, the old homophobe Trystan refers to, isn’t just a family member; he’s his closest male relative.
“There are worse things than being gay. Or fat.” The words fly out in staunch defense. Slurs of idiom thrown around a playground with such frivolity, they’re almost common verbiage. There is nothing common about the scars they leave on their targets, though. “My brother is gay, and he’s one of the most well-balanced, contented, gentle souls I know. His partner is family. We love them without prejudice. Like everyone deserves to be loved.” Tears sting the backs of my eyes. Her face softens. She was relaying Magnus’s, and probably Michael’s prejudice, not her own.
“I know! I’m friends and colleagues with plenty of gay andbi people. I have zero issues with same-sex relationships because love is love. I get it, Bri, but old fuckers like my dad and grandpa… well, Mason’s dad thinks being gay is the biggest slight. Stupid, I know, especially in open, progressive times like these. But that’s in the fabric of who they are. Sad, but true.”
“I despise homophobia in any form,” I fire back, finished with my soup. “And I’m not willing to give that old homophobe any more of our precious time. On a brighter note, I wanted to talk more with you about Mason’s upcoming birthday.”
“The big three-zero. I can’t believe my baby bro is thirty.”
“Uncle,” I correct.
“Will you stop?” she teases, hiding her face with a hand.
“Sure. I know. I’m just finishing up on these two pieces which I’m about to send to the framer.” I angle my phone to show her the progress I’ve made now that I’m not working in any real capacity at Mercer Media.
“Holy shit. You are so talented, Bri.”
Blushing, I power down my phone and smile a deep, whole face smile I haven’t felt like doing in weeks. “Now, you know he hates dressing up for events and such. I was thinking something way more casual and laid-back.” She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Cast your mind back to what he loved when he was growing up. Cowboys, superheroes, pirate-themed? Or was he into dinosaurs or cars, or sporty stuff?” She’s quiet for a long moment, her mind remaining blank.
“You know what, I can’t remember Mas having a single birthday party as a child.”
When it was justTrystan and I in the storage room two days before the end of last year, he said all he wanted to dowas help Masonforget. “Girl, I’d suck his tortured soul out through the end of his dick if he’d let me. And I’d do it for free.”
I’d do it for free too. Because I want to. I’m going to tell him how I feel and lay everything out in the open. That I’m head over heels in love with him and see a future with him. I couldn’t give a shit about Cartier cuffs and sports cars. I love Mason Mercer the person, not Mason Mercer the media mogul. I want to cook dinner for him; a kind of tin can potluck. To run him baths full of scented bubbles after a long day sailing or trading. To fall asleep with my head on his chest and wake up in the same position, his arms wrapped around me and skin warm. I want us to be together because we are drawn to each other by some inexplicable longing. Not because he’s paying me to satisfy his sexual appetite and chip in to help the secretarial support. I’ve done the one thing I was warned not to do… I fell in love with my boss.
“Bri,are you awake? I need you.” No natural light threatens the drawn drapes. The outside remains cool and quiet, a juxtaposition to the inferno radiating off him.
“I’m right here. What do you need?” His skin retains a pleasant warmth from the cozy embrace of the sheets and duvet, and his hair, mussed by sleep, possesses a charming disarray that I find so endearing. The thick dark stubble that used to pepper his jaw is almost a full beard. It’s silken to the touch and shares his unique taste.
“I need you to fuck me. Don’t go slow. Use me.” He has an arm thrown across his eyes, the other stroking languidly down the length of his rigid erection.
“You want me to drive? You love the control.” Control he’s ready to hand over?
“Maybe it’s time you took some back?”
I cover his stroking hand with my own and slide to the base as his hand reaches the tip. He’s so hard, so ready. If he wants to give me control, then I’ll take it with both hands; him with both hands. He’s already had my body, and now he has my heart. Pushing up to straddle him, my arousal coats his trimmed hair. I’m so wet, more ready for him than he is for me, if that’s at all possible. I may not rid him of long-held internal anguish and pain, but I can give myself to him and let him draw what he needs from me. If that’s orgasm after orgasm, then so be it.
