Mason

LAUREN

Taking out your anger on a dog is never a good idea, especially when it’s the dog’s owner who’s the real source of your frustration.

I’d been walking Prince for about twenty minutes.

The worst part of it was a five-minute phone call from Beth, who was laughing so hard she fell off her chair.

Our conversation wasn’t productive, and I didn’t get to vent my frustration. She just kept laughing and talking nonsense.

I hung up before I got even angrier.

Prince was a cute dog. If I wasn’t so busy, I’d have a dog of my own. But owning a dog means more responsibility and expenses.

It’s a lot to handle. I’m barely making ends meet as it is.

I’d never met a dog as smart and cocky as Prince. He was just like his owner, bad temper and all.

When we got to a nearby park, I found a dirty ball on the ground. I thought we could play catch, but Prince turned up his nose at the ball.

I’m serious, he looked at the ball with pure disgust…so unlike a dog.

We left the park, much to Prince’s delight. I stopped to get hot dogs and saw a woman with her dog outside a store.

“Look, Prince, isn’t that dog cute? Do you want to go play with her?”

He gave me a look that said, “Are you kidding me?” I decided then that Prince was smarter than I’d given him credit for. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

“Come on, Prince, how often do you see a dog as cute as that one? Don’t be so stuck-up.”

He huffed and looked away.

I was starting to feel crazy, talking to a dog and thinking he was responding with his expressions. He started walking away from me in the opposite direction.

“Prince!” I grabbed his leash and he snapped at me.

“Geez, you’re just like your owner. Did you pick up his personality, you poor dog?” I scratched behind his ear. “Must be tough living with a guy who’s as cold as ice.”

He didn’t respond.

“Can I tell you a secret? I think if he toned down his bad temper and started being nice to people, I might start to like him. He’s really hot.”

Prince smirked. I swear he smirked!

“All right, let’s go.” I tugged on his leash but he wouldn’t move.

“Prince, come on, let’s go.”

He stayed put.

“Prince!” I snapped, giving the leash a hard tug.

He lunged at me and I heard a ripping sound.

I looked down to see a large, noticeable tear in my dress, just below the knees.

“Fuck!” I cursed. “Oh my god, this isn’t happening.”

I tried to calm down, but all I could think about was the price tag that read seven hundred pounds.

“No, no, no.”

I felt like I was going to hyperventilate right there on the street. What was I going to do? I couldn’t afford to replace the dress.

And I’d rather die than touch the money I was saving for my dad.

“Why the hell did you do that, Prince?”

He looked unapologetic and I wanted to scream.

What was I going to do? Sell my TV? But I didn’t own one. It was all Beth’s.

What expensive thing did I own that I could sell? Nothing.

My conscience told me to tell Mr. Campbell.

After all, it was his damn dog and I deserved to be compensated for the damage to the dress.

But my pride and ego wouldn’t let me tell him.

To hell with your pride and ego. Tell him. Let him pay for the dress.

How else was I going to solve this problem?

I made up my mind, grabbed Prince, and headed back to the restaurant.

We waited for Mr. Campbell’s meeting to end. When it was over, I saw him walking out with an Asian man with gray hair. They shook hands before the man left in his car.

Then he turned to me.

I looked down at the ground for a moment before lifting my head and handing him the leash.

“My dress is torn,” I said, my voice filled with defeat.

Inside, I was screaming, humiliated by the situation I’d gotten myself into.

“I see that. How does that concern me?”

I bit my lower lip, holding back a scream.

“Prince tore my dress.” I tried to avoid his intense, wild gray eyes.

“Are you asking for compensation, Ms. Hart?”

His voice was devoid of emotion.

Still avoiding his gaze, I fiddled with my hands. “Well, you see—”

He cut me off. “Look at me.”

I turned to him and saw his hand reaching toward my face. My eyes widened. I thought he was going to slap me or touch my face.

Instead, his hand went to the back of my neck, and he pulled out the price tag.

I was mortified. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

This was the very thing I’d been trying to avoid all night.

“Quite unfortunate,” he commented lazily. “Even if the dress is cheap.”

Cheap? He thought a seven-hundred-pound dress was cheap? I’d love to see what he considered expensive.

But I couldn’t look at him.

I was never going to live this down. I was caught off guard when his warm hands grabbed mine and he placed some bills in my palm.

I couldn’t tell how much it was, but it was a lot.

I’d never held so much money.

He didn’t say anything, and before I could react, he was already in his car, driving away.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the bills in my hand.

Why was I upset that he’d given me his money? Shouldn’t I be happy that now I could pay for the dress?

I wasn’t comfortable with it. I didn’t want his cash.

I stashed it in my purse, planning to give it back to him at work the next day. If I knew where he lived, I would have returned it right then and there.

“You’re doing what?” Beth questioned when I spilled the whole story.

“I’m giving back the money,” I replied, slipping out of the dress.

“Why? It’s yours. He gave it to you.”

“I just don’t want it.”

“Are you nuts? How will you pay for the dress? His dog ruined it, so he should pay for it. Stop being so negative and look on the bright side. You get to keep the dress too.”

I tossed the dress onto the bed and stood with my hands on my hips, glaring at Beth.

“He gave me two thousand pounds. What am I supposed to do with the leftover cash, huh? I’m not a charity case, Beth.

“I have my dignity. I can’t just take his money. It’s insulting!”

She rolled her eyes. “Insult my ass. You just don’t want to.”

I snapped back, irritation clear in my voice, “Have you met the guy? He’s a jerk! He’ll never let me live it down. Do you think he won’t tease me?

“You have no idea.” I was still nursing my wounded pride, still trying to make sense of what had happened.

She wasn’t there, she didn’t see what I saw in Mason Campbell’s eyes.

“Okay, why don’t you take the seven hundred and give the rest back to him? And tell him you’ll repay the seven hundred when you get your paycheck. Problem solved.”

“You’re the one who caused this mess in the first place!”

She wagged her finger at me.

“No, Laurie, you’re the one who thought you were invited to dinner with them.” She laughed lightly. “I wish I could have seen your face when he told you you were going to walk his dog.”

“I’m sure he found my embarrassment hilarious. Was it really that hard to tell me what I was supposed to do there?” I grumbled. “He could have just said, ‘Miss Hart, you will walk my dog tonight’ so I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself.”

Even if we were in court in front of a judge, the one to blame was my boss for not being clear.

I was innocent. I was the one who was humiliated and I was the one who lost a lot of money that night, enough to keep me awake.

But I knew he’d be sleeping soundly with his billions in the bank.

I groaned, rubbing my forehead. I could feel a headache coming on.

“I really hate him.”

Beth feigned shock.

“How can you hate the hottest man in England? You know, I’m so jealous of you. You get to check him out all day and admire every inch of his body that’s calling my name.”

I smacked her.

“Shut up. I don’t ogle him. I don’t even pay attention to him.”

Liar.

“I only focus on my job.”

A master of deception. That’s what you are.

She looked skeptical.

“So you’re immune to his good looks? You’re not attracted to him? At all?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart.” You’re such a liar, Lauren.

“I’m calling you out on your lies.” She grinned.

“You just don’t want to admit that you’re attracted to your boss too.”

“I’m not attracted to my boss! He’s my boss! It’s strictly professional.”

“Where does it say you can’t ogle your boss in your handbook, hmm?”

I smirked.

“Rule number seventy-eight: No employee should engage in any physical action or form a relationship with a coworker.” I mentally patted myself on the back for remembering some of the rules.

Even though I hadn’t read the entire handbook, I was glad I’d managed to read some and avoid breaking any rules.

“It doesn’t say boss,” she retorted.

“Really? That’s your argument?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. She just shrugged. “Whatever, I’m going to bed.”

She got up from my bed.

“We’re still on for this weekend, right?”

“The girls’ night out? Sure. Can I invite my friend Athena?”

“Yeah. You can also invite your boss. The more the merrier.” She winked.

“Fuck off, Bethany.”

***

Dad had a doctor’s appointment today. His nurse, Becky, promised to keep me updated. I took a moment to reassure myself that everything would be okay.

He would endure his chemo like the brave man he was.

He was going to be okay, and he was going to live long enough to see his grandkids.

I was mostly worried that he was going through it alone, but Becky assured me she would be with him every step of the way.

I was worried Dad would be upset that my job was keeping me from being there with him, but a text from him eased my worries.

It was one of those days when I really resented the woman who gave birth to me.

She should have been there with him, not his nurse. But who knows where she was right now, or if she even thought about him.

Even though Dad said he didn’t mind that I wasn’t there, I still felt guilty. I was the only family he had left, and I was too busy running errands for Mason Campbell.

I made my way through the bustling foot traffic to the nearest coffee shop two blocks away from the office. I grabbed a latte with extra foam before hurrying back to our building.

The cold weather bit at my face and I burrowed deeper into my cardigan.

The elevator was empty when I stepped inside and pressed the button for my floor. I was nervous, but mostly still embarrassed when I remembered what happened the previous night.

My humiliation was still fresh in my mind, and I dreaded seeing Mr. Campbell.

I found myself wishing it was the weekend already, just so I wouldn’t have to see him again so soon. I couldn’t help but wonder what he must have thought of me.

Why is it that the one person you never want to make a fool of yourself in front of is always the one person you end up making a fool of yourself in front of?

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand shot through the gap, forcing them open again.

My heart pounded in my chest as I saw the man I’d been thinking about just moments ago.

Mr. Campbell stepped into the elevator, standing next to me. His hair was neatly trimmed in a stylish cut that suited him well, and he smelled amazing.

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him. He was someone I could never have.

I was suddenly hit with a wave of memories from my first Mason Campbell nightmare.

Being alone in the elevator with this powerful man, I could feel the tension building.

Why am I freaking out so much about him? It’s not like I’ve never talked to him before.

But this was the first time we’d ever been alone in an elevator together.

And the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t even glance my way. The elevator doors closed, and the doors of tension swung wide open.

In my mind, I replayed the memory of him gripping my ass, pushing me against the wall with force, his beautiful red lips pressed against mine in the steamiest sex scene I’d ever imagined.

I kept my head down, pretending to be engrossed in my latte when in reality I was trying my hardest not to look at him.

I felt like I should say something. I should greet him. He was my boss, after all.

That realization hit me like a slap in the face. I’d been so caught up in the fact that we were in a confined space together that I’d forgotten to even say hello.

“Good morning, sir.”

I got nothing in return.

Well, I guess I couldn’t really expect him to respond after it took me so long to acknowledge him.

Despite my ridiculous sex dreams, I couldn’t even get him to spare me a sideways glance in real life.

“So, you remember who the boss is. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten what an assistant is supposed to do when she sees her boss.”

I glanced his way quickly and saw him looking at his expensive watch.

“One minute, thirty seconds.” He looked up from his watch to me, his eyes revealing nothing.

“That’s how long it took your brain to start working properly.”

I stood there, clenching my jaw until I could muster up the composure and self-control needed to respond calmly.

“Why do you always insult my intelligence? I happen to be smart.”

He shifted and took his hands out of his pockets as I continued to stare at him while he continued to stare straight ahead. He clasped his hands in front of him.

“Smart people don’t call themselves smart. When you’re smart and you know it, you let people think you’re not. You show it when they least expect it.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Is that how you became one of the most powerful men in England? By pretending you’re not smart?”

So much for not asking questions that were none of my business and definitely above my pay grade.

Dad always said I had a habit of being nosy and not knowing when to shut up.

“One? Ms. Hart, I’m the most powerful man in England. Something you’ve clearly failed to realize.”

“I haven’t failed to realize anything. I’m just being rational here, sir. I’d agree with you being one of the most powerful men, but the most powerful in all of England?

“Have you forgotten we have a queen and a prime minister?”

The words slipped out of my mouth even as—nooooo remember who you’re talking to—I tried to stop myself.

“My duty as a boss includes letting comments like that from my employees slide.”

His arrogant tone made me instantly regret my words.

I stayed quiet, watching the red numbers climb, each one taking its sweet time until we reached our floor.

A far cry from the scenario my brain had conjured up. Of course, I’d leave this elevator feeling flustered and regretful, but not for any sexy reason like a quick elevator hookup.

Wishful thinking!

Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut.

***

Mr. Campbell was tied up for hours, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him and give him his money back. I was definitely trying to avoid him too, but I couldn’t avoid seeing him at the meeting.

When I walked into the conference room, I decided to sit where he’d told me to last time to avoid any complications, and by complications, I mean getting unnecessary and questionable looks.

I settled into my seat, waiting for the meeting to start.

The other employees, whom I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting because they either ignored me or went out of their way to avoid me, nodded in my direction.

The meeting started right on time and Mr. Campbell focused his attention on everyone in the room.

I noticed that when he spoke, everyone was quick to agree with him, and they all seemed to be hanging on his every word.

But when another employee started to speak, they didn’t put nearly as much effort into paying attention.

When Mr. Campbell was talking, you couldn’t help but listen.

It wasn’t just what he was saying. It was the authoritative tone he used and how sexy his voice was.

Every eye in the room was on him, hanging on his every word.

Cynthia, from marketing research, started her presentation, and I took notes as Mr. Campbell had asked.

Over the next hour, I did my best to participate, even if all I did was nod in agreement with what I thought was good and jot down notes, never once opening my mouth.

After they’d gone through everything for the day, Mr. Campbell stood. “Great work today. Keep it up.”

Everyone pushed away from their seats and filed out of the conference room.

I noticed Mr. Campbell hadn’t made any move to leave yet. Just as I was about to leave, he cleared his throat.

“Ms. Hart, a minute.”

I turned to him, struggling to breathe once again as I approached him for the second time.

He was still standing, and I would have appreciated it if he would have just sat down.

He was incredibly intimidating and towering when he was standing. I always felt like he could squash me under his expensive leather shoes.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

I swallowed nervously.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Just spit it out!

“If there’s something on your mind, now’s the time to share it,” he said, brushing off my question.

Could this guy read minds? How on earth did he know I had something to say?

Maybe because you’ve been avoiding him and acting all jittery.

“This is your moment,” he added.

You can do this, Lauren.

I took a step forward, my nerves suddenly on edge. But I wasn’t about to let my fear stop me from doing what needed to be done.

And that was to salvage my dignity.

“I-I have something for you.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Did I give you the impression that I wanted something from you?” he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

All I could do was grunt in response.

“It’s in my bag. I’ll be right back.” I quickly left the conference room before he could stop me.

When I returned, he was standing tall by the large windows, gazing out over the city.

I knew he knew I was back, but he didn’t turn around and I didn’t know what to say, clutching his money in my hand that suddenly felt like a ton of bricks.

“I have it.”

“Do I need to tell you twice to come over here?”

“No, sir.”

I walked over until I was close enough to see his face clearly.

He slowly turned around. His dark-lashed gray eyes held me captive, like I was in some kind of dream.

He was unbelievably good-looking. How could someone be so physically perfect yet lack a decent personality?

Because nobody can have it all, Lauren.

His gaze dropped to my hand. I cleared my throat.

“Thanks for last night, but I—”

“Last night?” He tilted his head, looking confused. “Did something happen last night that I’m not aware of?”

I frowned, disbelief etched on my face.

“Um, yes.”

“Do tell.”

Was he doing this on purpose? Trying to make me talk about last night when he knew I was already feeling humiliated?

“I don’t know why you gave me two thousand pounds when the dress only cost seven hundred. But anyway, I’m giving you the change back.

“I promise I’ll pay you back the seven hundred when I get my paycheck, or you can just deduct it,” I finished, panting slightly.

“Do I look like I’d lose sleep over two thousand pounds?”

“No, but—”

“You needed it, didn’t you?” He paused. “Prince ruined your dress and I paid for it. I felt generous enough to double it. Why are you making a big deal out of it?”

“I’m not…” I stopped mid-sentence when I realized I was about to raise my voice. I took a deep breath before exhaling.

“I’m not making a big deal, sir. Thank you, but I don’t want it.”

“Because you think you’re too good for it?”

“That’s not it,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice. “I don’t want your pity money.”

“Is that what it is? Pity money?”

“I don’t like taking people’s money without earning it. I feel uncomfortable knowing I owe you, so please, sir, just take it. I really don’t want it.”

“Throw it away,” he said flatly.

“What?”

“You heard me. Throw it away. Give it away. It’s your call, Ms. Hart.”

He started to walk away, and I reached out to stop him.

The moment my fingers brushed his arm, a shock ran through me and I quickly pulled my hand back.

Mr. Campbell shot me a glare.

“Don’t ever try to touch me again,” he said coldly, his voice more icy than ever. “Have some respect for yourself. I’m your boss and we’re at work. It’s highly unprofessional to touch your boss. Do you understand, Ms. Hart?”

Feeling rattled, I nodded and swallowed hard.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”

His eyes narrowed before he spoke in a commanding tone.

“Get back to work.”