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“That—” That shouldn’t be happening. “I didn’t tell him I was here. He shouldn’t know—I don’t know how he knows I’m here.”
Someone in the background says something to Mason.
“Sit down,” he says. “None of my people have even confirmed you’re in the building. None of them will, unless you want them to. He must be taking a guess. He’s telling my guy he wants to see you.”
“For what?”
“He says he wants to give you a gift and congratulate you on your engagement.”
I let out a weird, barking laugh. “Really? I mean—nowhe wants to congratulate me? I don’t even know what to say to that. He tried to—he didn’t want me to leave the house. I stopped by there before—the other day. I stopped by because I didn’t want him to worry, and he said I couldn’t leave anymore.”
“Well, that’s fucked up,” Mason says. “I’m guessing you don’t want to see him, but you have options if you do. We can go out with you, or you can go out with some members of my security team. I can have one of my guys hand him a phone, if all you wanted to do was talk.”
He pauses.
I don’t say anything.
“Or I can have him removed from the property,” Mason says.
“Isn’t that—won’t that set him off? I don’t want him to freak out and do something dangerous. And I don’t want to give him proof that I’m here. If he doesn’t know for sure, kicking him out is going to prove I’m definitely—”
The far door to the atelier bursts open and Jameson stumbles through it. “I’m here. Don’t worry, Lily.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mason sighs.
“Oh, good, you’re here, Jameson!” Charlotte says brightly. “Come have a seat!”
Elise steps smoothly between Jameson and the pedestal, holding her arms out like an air traffic controller. Jameson approaches, his steps a little unsteady, watching Elise with wide eyes.
He points at the couch set on an angle to the pedestal. “That couch? There? I can’t tell.”
“That’s the one!” Elise makes even larger motions.
Jameson puts his hands to his mouth and blows her kisses. He’s being ridiculous, and he’s obviously high on fresh painkillers. His man-bun is askew on the top of his head. He’scoveredin week-old bruises.
He’s still the hottest person I’ve ever seen.
Hestillmakes my chest go all warm.
Jameson reaches the couch and flops down on top of it with a painedoof.He shoves one of Charlotte’s classy shell-pink throw pillows under his head, shifts himself around on the cushions, and closes his eyes.
“Don’t worry, Mase. I’m here to provide security.”
“I told you to sit down,” Mason says.
“Duty called. Your wife is safe. And your fiancée-in-law. And my about-to-be-wife. I will defend them with my life.”
Mason sighs audibly. “Great.”
“Knew you’d think…”
Jameson trails off.
He doesn’t finish the sentence, because he’s fallen asleep.
“I don’t think he noticed the dress.” Charlotte keeps her voice soft.
“He passed out on the couch, didn’t he?” Mason asks.
