Chapter 13

Mason pulled away first. His forehead pressed against mine. Both of us breathing hard. His hands still cupped my face like I was something precious.

Then he stepped back.

"Go," he said.

"What?"

"Go back to your room. Lock the door. I'll have security drive you to work tomorrow."

I stared at him. "That's it?"

"That's it." His voice was flat. "This doesn't change anything."

"Mason—"

"Go, Lucy."

He walked away before I could respond.

I stood in the dark foyer, lips still burning, and watched him disappear up the stairs.

The next morning, I woke up to a knock on the door.

Not Mason. One of his security guys. A man named Derek who looked like he'd never smiled in his life.

"Mr. Chen said I'm to drive you to work," he said.

"Mr. Chen?"

"Mason Chen."

Right. Because of course he'd send someone else. Of course he wouldn't come himself. I grabbed my bag and followed Derek to the car.

The bookstore felt like a lifeline. Mrs. Patel greeted me with a warm smile and a cup of tea. "You look tired, Lucy. Are you sleeping?"

"Not really."

"Too much excitement?"

"Something like that."

She didn't push. That was one of the things I loved about her. She knew when to ask questions and when to let things be.

I spent the morning shelving books. Running the register. Helping customers find the perfect read. It was normal. Mundane. Exactly what I needed.

By lunchtime, I felt almost human again.

I was eating a sad sandwich in the back room when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number: I see you. You look happy. It won't last.

I dropped my sandwich. My hands started shaking.

Vincent.

I looked around the back room. The windows faced an alley. Empty. No one there. But he'd seen me. He knew where I was.

I called Mason.

He answered on the first ring. "Lucy?"

"Vincent texted me again. He said he saw me. He knows I'm at the bookstore."

"Where are you now?"

"Back room. Inside. The windows are covered."

"Stay there. I'm sending someone."

"Mason—"

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He hung up before I could respond.

Twenty minutes later, Mason walked into the bookstore.

Not security. Him.

He was wearing a black jacket and dark jeans. Sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He looked like he'd just rolled out of a magazine.

Mrs. Patel's eyes went wide. "Lucy, is this—"

"An old friend," I said quickly. "We'll just be a moment."

I grabbed Mason's arm and pulled him into the back room. "What are you doing here?" I hissed.

"Checking on you."

"You could have sent Derek."

"I wanted to see for myself." He looked around the cramped back room. "You shouldn't be here."

"I have to work."

"Not anymore."

"Mason—"

"Vincent knows where you are. He's watching this place. You're not safe."

I opened my mouth to argue. Then I saw the look in his eyes. He was scared. Not annoyed. Not cold. Scared.

"Okay," I said quietly.

"Okay?"

"Okay. I'll leave. But I'm coming back tomorrow."

"Lucy—"

"This is my job. My life. I'm not going to hide forever."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Fine. But you take security with you. Everywhere."

"Fine."

"And you text me when you get home."

"Fine."

"And—"

"Mason. I said fine."

He almost smiled. Almost.

Derek drove me home. Mason followed in his own car.

I spent the rest of the day in the guest room. Reading. Scrolling through my phone. Trying not to think about Vincent.

At some point, a knock on the door.

It wasn't Mason's security team. It was a woman. Mid-twenties. Dark hair. Friendly smile.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Clara. I work for Mason. He said you might need some company."

I blinked. "He did?"

"He said you were probably losing your mind in here." She grinned. "He's not wrong."

I laughed. For the first time in days, I actually laughed. "I'm Lucy."

"I know. Everyone knows about the pool house girl."

My face went hot. "That's not—"

"Relax. I'm just messing with you." She stepped inside. "Mason told me to bring you dinner. And wine. And gossip."

"Gossip?"

"About him." She winked. "Trust me. It's good."

I followed her downstairs. Clara was a revelation. She was Mason's assistant. She knew everything about everyone. She also had zero filter.

"So," she said, pouring us both glasses of wine. "Let me guess. You're the one he's been obsessed with for years."

I choked on my wine. "What?"

"Please. I've worked for him for three years. I've seen the pictures."

"What pictures?"

"The ones he keeps in his desk drawer. You, at some party. Laughing. You looked about seventeen."

My heart stopped. "He has pictures of me?"

"Multiple." She took a sip of wine. "He thinks I don't know. But I know everything."

I didn't know what to say.

Clara leaned forward. "Here's what I don't understand. He's clearly crazy about you. So why is he still bringing home Vanessa?"

"I don't know."

"Actually, I do." She set down her glass. "He's scared. He's always been scared. His whole life, he's pushed people away before they can leave him. It's his thing."

"And Vanessa?"

"Vanessa is safe. She doesn't care about him. She cares about his money. He knows that. It's easier for him."

"Than what?"

"Than letting someone in." She met my eyes. "Than letting you in."

I stared at her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm tired of watching him self-destruct." She smiled. "And because I like you. You're not like the others."

"The others?"

"The blondes. The models. The women who don't see him." She shrugged. "You see him. That's the difference."

*** ***

That night, I couldn't sleep.

Clara's words echoed in my head. He's scared. He's always been scared. I thought about the pictures in his desk drawer. The way he'd kissed me. The way he'd pushed me away.

He was a disaster. A complete, utter disaster. But he was my disaster.

The next morning, I went back to work.

Derek drove me. He stayed outside the entire shift. I pretended not to notice.

Mrs. Patel had hired a new employee. A guy my age named Ethan.

He was tall. Friendly. Had a smile that made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

"Hey," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Ethan. I'm new."

"Lucy." I shook his hand. "Welcome to the chaos."

"Chaos?"

"Bookstore chaos. It's a thing."

He laughed. "I'm starting to like this place."

We worked side by side all morning. Shelving books. Recommending titles. Laughing at customers. It was easy. Comfortable. Normal.

Ethan was easy to talk to. No secrets. No games. Just two people who loved books.

"Want to grab coffee after work?" he asked at the end of the shift.

I hesitated. Derek was outside. Vincent was watching. Mason would lose his mind.

"Sure," I said. "Why not?"

Ethan and I walked to a coffee shop two blocks away. Derek followed at a distance. I pretended not to notice.

"So," Ethan said, stirring his coffee. "What's your story?"

"My story?"

"Everyone has one. What's yours?"

I thought about it. The robbery. The pool house. Mason. Vincent. "My life is complicated," I said.

"Complicated how?"

"I don't even know where to start."

He smiled. "Start at the beginning."

So I did. Sort of. I told him about the robbery. About losing my apartment. About staying with a friend's brother.

I didn't tell him about Vincent. Didn't tell him about Mason. Didn't tell him about the kiss.

"Your friend's brother," Ethan said. "Is he the reason you look so sad?"

I blinked. "What?"

"You have sad eyes, Lucy." He tilted his head. "I noticed it the moment we met."

I didn't know what to say.

"I'm not trying to pry," he added quickly. "I just—you seem like someone who needs a friend."

I stared at him. "I do," I said quietly. "I really do."

My phone buzzed on the way home.

Unknown number: I see you with the bookstore boy. He won't save you.

I felt sick.

Unknown number: No one can save you. Not even Mason.

Unknown number: You're mine.

I didn't tell Mason about the texts. I didn't tell him about Ethan. I just sat in the back of Derek's car and stared out the window. And I wondered if I'd ever feel safe again.