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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mason
A glance at my watch revealed we had fifteen minutes before the car arrived. Parking my suitcase by the door, I thumbed through emails on my phone absentmindedly. Shit, there was ton of stuff to get done, money doesn’t just make itself. My mind was already on business, churning away at the Dow, the markets, and the exchange rate.
Kane and Tyler were nowhere to be found. So I did a quick scan of the living room, making sure we weren’t leaving anything behind before calling out.
“Bros, let’s get a move on. The ride will be here soon.”
Two massive forms emerged, dragging bags behind them while studying their phones. One thing about new technology is that it’s fucking rude at times. Everyone’s always glued to this gadget or that, no eye contact, no real human interaction anymore.
But this wasn’t the time to say anything.
“No worries, we’ll make the flight,” Kane rumbled, still busy at his cell. He was more than likely checking the stock market, ready to start trading once we were back. After all, our vacation was at an end, the fun and games over. There would be no talking on the jet, each of us engrossed in our laptops, preparing for city life once more.
And whaddya know, but right on time the doorbell rang, its melodic chimes sounding out.
“It’s the bellhop,” Tyler grunted, still engrossed by his phone as he strode across the living room. “I’ll get it.”
But before the door was even completely open, it was forcefully pushed forwards, causing our heads to jerk up, surprised. What bellhop was this?
There was no bellhop. Instead, Katie stood in the entryway, flushed and quivering. But not in a good way. She looked unsteady, her hair a little frazzled, color high in her face. What the fuck?
“Katie sweetheart, is something wrong?”
I took a step towards her, one hand outstretched.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Tyler turned towards the female as well. “We’re leaving for the airport hon, so make it quick.”
But the girl wasn’t listening. Stepping back, she almost collided with the front door. That was weird. Sure, Katie’s not a ballet dancer, but she’s not a klutz either. What was going on?
Wildly, the female looked around the room like a caged animal. Her breasts quivered, the look on her face frantic. This was making me uneasy. Real uneasy.
Kane interrupted then.
“You want to tell us what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He stood from his chair, a third massive figure looming over the girl. “You want to tell us what’s going on? Spit it out, sweetheart,” was his firm command.
That spurred her into action.
“Sweetheart?!” came her voice. Her mouth curled at the edges, like the word was sour. What the hell? What was wrong with calling her sweetheart? We called her that all throughout last night as she moaned and trembled in our arms, spasming wildly. What was different today?
“I’m not your sweetheart!” she raged. “Tell me is it true? Is it true?” the woman demanded, her control hanging by a tenuous thread.
What was this all about? The three of us exchanged puzzled looks.
“Is what true?” I questioned smoothly, one eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about?”
But Katie wasn’t having it.
“Don’t play games with me! I know it’s been nothing but a farce. I just wanted to hear it from your mouths.”
Suddenly, the air changed. Katie’s anger deflated like a balloon going flat, replaced by sadness and hurt instead. Those sweet shoulders slumped, energy trickling from her curvy frame.
But she hadn’t said her part yet.
“I know I wasn’t the first. I know you’ve done this before.” Her voice was dull as she stared at the floor. “I know.”
At this point it was clear what was going on.
