Chapter 11

I stayed in the pool house for three days.

Three days of Mason's security team circling the property like vultures. Three days of jumping at every sound. Three days of telling myself I wasn't waiting for him to knock on my door.

He didn't.

I saw him from the window sometimes. Walking from his Mercedes to the main house. Phone pressed to his ear. Jaw tight. He never looked toward the pool house. Never acknowledged I existed.

I told myself I didn't care. I was lying.

On the fourth morning, I couldn't take it anymore.

I needed air. Real air. Not the recycled stuff from the pool house AC. I needed to feel like a person again, not a prisoner.

I slipped out the side door before the security team could stop me. Walked past the pool. Past the main house. Past the gates.

The neighborhood was quiet. Expensive. The kind of place where people paid for privacy.

I walked until my legs ached. Until my lungs burned. Until I couldn't remember why I'd come back here in the first place.

Then I turned around and walked back.

Mason was waiting at the pool house door.

His face was cold. His eyes were colder.

"Where the hell were you?"

"Walking."

"Without telling anyone?"

"I didn't realize I needed permission."

"Vincent is out there." He stepped closer. "He's been watching this house for days. And you just—wandered off?"

"I needed air."

"You needed to think." His voice was sharp. "You needed to realize this isn't a game."

I laughed. "A game? You think I think this is a game?"

"I think you don't take this seriously."

"I don't take this seriously?" My voice rose. "I lost my apartment. I lost my money. I almost lost my life. And you're standing here telling me I don't take this seriously?"

Mason's jaw tightened.

"Then why did you leave?"

"Because I can't breathe in here." I stepped closer. "Because every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Because I'm terrified, Mason. And you—" My voice cracked. "You won't even look at me."

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then: "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"By ignoring me?"

"By not making this harder than it already is."

I stared at him. His eyes were dark. Unreadable.

"Harder for who?" I asked. "You or me?"

He didn't answer.

**** ****

That night, I heard him bring someone home. A woman's laugh. Music. Glasses clinking.

I pressed my pillow over my head and tried not to hear it. It didn't work.

The next morning, I saw her.

Blonde. Tall. Wearing one of his button-downs. She was making coffee in the main house kitchen like she owned the place.

She looked up when I walked in. Smiled like we were friends.

"You must be the pool house girl," she said. "I'm Vanessa."

"Lucy."

"Right." She took a sip of coffee. "Mason mentioned you. Said you were his sister's charity case."

I felt my face go hot.

"He said that?"

"He says a lot of things." She shrugged. "Mostly nonsense."

I didn't know what to say. So I just grabbed a bottle of water and left.

Sloane called that afternoon.

"I heard Mason brought someone home," she said.

"News travels fast."

"His security team told me." Pause. "Vanessa. She's a model. He's been seeing her on and off for months."

"Months?"

"Off and on. She's one of his regulars." Sloane's voice was tight. "I told you. He doesn't change."

"I know."

"Then why are you still there?"

I didn't have an answer.

Mason found me by the pool that night.

Vanessa was gone. The house was quiet. Just him and me and the dark water.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

"I've been giving you space."

"Bullshit."

I looked at him. His eyes were tired.

"Vanessa seems nice," I said.

"She's not. She's a model who likes expensive things." He sat down on the chair beside me. "She's not you."

"Then why bring her here?"

"Because I'm an asshole." His voice was flat. "Because I wanted to remind myself why this can't happen."

"Did it work?"

"No." He ran a hand through his hair. "It never works."

We sat in silence. The water glittered under the lights.

"She's still here," I said finally. "Vincent. He's still watching."

"I know."

"What are we going to do?"

He looked at me. His eyes were dark. Unreadable.

"We find him before he finds you."

****

The next morning, Mason had a plan.

"We're going to draw him out," he said. "Use ourselves as bait."

"Us?"

"Me and Sloane." He looked at me. "You're going to stay here. Behind the gates. With security."

"No."

"Lucy—"

"I'm not going to hide while you two risk your lives."

"This isn't up for debate."

"Yes, it is." I stepped closer. "Vincent wants me. He made that clear. If you two go out there alone, he'll know something's wrong."

Mason's jaw tightened.

"You're not doing this."

"I'm already in this." I met his eyes. "Whether you like it or not."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he swore under his breath.

"Fine. But you do everything I say."

"Everything?"

"Everything." His voice dropped. "If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. No arguing. No questions."

I nodded.

"Okay."

He didn't look convinced. And That night, we set the trap.

Mason's security team set up surveillance around the city. Sloane drove to a location Vincent might be watching. Mason followed at a distance.

I stayed in the pool house with two security guards and a tracking device on my phone.

"I don't like this," I told Sloane over the phone.

"I don't either. But it's the only way."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"Then we run." Her voice was steady. "That's the plan."

"And Mason?"

She was quiet for a moment. Then: "Mason can take care of himself."

I didn't believe her. Then midnight came and my phone buzzed.

Unknown number: You're being watched. But you already knew that.

I stared at the screen. My hands were shaking.

Lucy: Who is this?

Unknown: You know who I am. I'm the one who's going to take everything Mason loves.

Lucy: He doesn't love anyone.

Unknown: He loves you. That's why I took your bag. That's why I'm going to take you.

I felt sick.

Lucy: You don't know what you're talking about.

Unknown: I know everything. I know about your father. I know about the testimony. I know Mason has been obsessed with you for a decade.

Unknown: I'm going to destroy him. And you're going to help.

I dropped the phone. My heart was pounding.

This wasn't just about revenge. This was personal.

I called Mason. He answered on the first ring.

"Lucy? What's wrong?"

"Vincent texted me." My voice was shaking. "He knows everything. About my father. About the testimony. About—" I stopped. "About you."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. He said he's going to destroy you. And he's going to use me to do it."

Mason was quiet for a moment.

"I'm coming back. Don't go anywhere."

"Don't—"

He hung up before I could finish. He arrived in fifteen minutes. His face was pale. His eyes were hard.

"Show me the texts."

I handed him my phone. He read them. His jaw tightened.

"He's getting bolder."

"Or more desperate."

He looked at me. "Either way, we need to end this. Tonight."

"How?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I'm going to give him what he wants."

"The testimony?"

"Yes."

"Mason—"

"It's the only way." His voice was flat. "If I give him the testimony, he'll leave you alone."

"You don't know that."

"I know he wants revenge. And I know he wants to hurt me. If I give him what he wants, he'll move on."

"Or he'll kill you."

He almost smiled. "Maybe."

I grabbed his arm.

"I'm not letting you do this."

"Lucy—"

"I mean it." My voice cracked. "I didn't come here to watch you sacrifice yourself. I came here to help you."

He looked at me. His eyes were dark. Vulnerable.

"Why?"

"Because I can't lose you." The words came out before I could stop them. "Even when you're an asshole. Even when you treat me like I'm nothing. Even when you bring home models named Vanessa."

His expression flickered.

"You deserve better," he said quietly.

"Probably." I stepped closer. "But I don't want better. I want you."

He stared at me for a long moment.

Then he pulled me into his arms. "Lucy." His voice was rough against my hair. "I don't deserve you."

"Probably not."

"I'm going to screw this up."

"Definitely."

"I'm going to hurt you."

"Stop." I pulled back. "Stop trying to push me away. I know what you are. I've always known. But I'm still here."

He looked at me. His eyes were burning.

"Why?"

"Because I've been in love with you for ten years." My voice cracked. "And I'm tired of pretending I'm not."

He was silent for a long moment. Then he said: "I'm not good at this."

"I know."

"I'm going to make mistakes."

"I know."

"And I'm still not going to stop bringing home women who aren't you."

I flinched. "What?"

"Because I'm terrified." His voice was raw. "Because if I let myself want you—really want you—I'll destroy you. And I can't live with that."

I stared at him."So you'd rather destroy yourself?"

"Maybe."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

He almost smiled. Almost. Then he kissed me. It wasn't like before. Not cold. Not calculated. Just desperate. His hands gripping my waist like I was the only thing keeping him upright.

I kissed him back. And for the first time, I didn't let go.

We broke apart. Both of us breathing hard.

"This doesn't change anything," he said.

"It doesn't?"

"No." His jaw tightened. "I'm still going to give Vincent the testimony. I'm still going to protect you. And I'm still going to push you away."

"Why?"

"Because I love you." The words came out rough. Broken. "And that's the most dangerous thing I've ever felt."

I stared at him. My heart was pounding. "You love me?"

"Don't make me say it again."

"Why?"

"Because it's the truth." He stepped back. "And the truth is going to destroy us both."

He walked away before I could respond. I stood in the dark and watched him go. And I knew he was right. But I also knew I wasn't going to let him go.