Chapter 5

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice. If I don't get away from her soon, I'm going to ruin everything.

Her. Me. He was talking about me.

I replayed the conversation a hundred times. I've spent ten years watching her. She looks at me like I'm furniture. Mason Chen had been watching me. For ten years. While I'd been watching him right back.

The sun came up eventually. I watched it through the pool house windows and tried to figure out what to do. I couldn't tell Sloane. I couldn't confront Mason. So I did what I always did. I pretended nothing had happened.

By noon, I'd convinced myself I'd imagined it all.

I was standing in the main house kitchen when Mason walked in. Shirtless. Wet hair. Droplets still clung to his shoulders.

"Lucy." He grabbed a protein shake from the fridge, not looking at me. "You're in my way."

I stepped aside. "Sorry."

He leaned against the counter and drank, eyes fixed somewhere across the room. Not on me.

"How was the gala?" I asked.

"Fine."

"Why are you here at the main house?" He finally looked at me. Bored. Dismissive. "The gala's over. You got paid."

"I was just getting water."

"Get it faster next time."

He left. I stood there gripping my glass, trying to breathe.

The next two days were worse.

Mason was everywhere. The garage. The backyard. The kitchen. And every time, he looked through me like I was glass.

Then Tuesday night. Midnight. A woman's laugh trailed up the stairs. I pressed my pillow over my head.

Wednesday morning, I ran into her outside. Blonde. Tall. Wearing one of his button-downs.

"You must be the pool house girl," she said, looking me up and down. "Mason said you were his sister's charity case."

Before I could respond, Mason appeared in the doorway.

"Inside," he said to her. "Now."

She pouted but left. Mason looked at me.

"Stay out of my personal life."

"I wasn't in it. She came out here."

"Then walk faster."

He closed the door. I stood in the backyard and didn't cry.

Sloane came by Thursday.

She dropped onto my bed and studied my face. "You look awful."

"Thanks."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing. That's the problem."

She sighed. "I told you that you could stay with my parents, Luce. Their guest room is huge."

"I know."

"But you chose to stay here." She turned her head. "Why?"

I didn't answer. Sloane had offered me her parents' mansion the night I got robbed. She'd also offered her apartment but her boyfriend Derek practically lived there. Three's a crowd. The Chens' guest room was a real option. Comfortable. Far from Mason.

I'd said no anyway.

"I like the pool house," I lied.

"Bullshit." Sloane propped herself up. "I've seen the way you look at him. You're not subtle."

My heart stopped.

"You do." Her voice was gentle. "He's a disaster, Lucy. He'll break your heart."

"He doesn't even see me."

She was quiet. Then: "Are you sure about that?"

I didn't answer.

"You could still leave," she said. "Go to my parents'. I'll help you pack."

"No." Too fast. "I have interviews. It doesn't make sense to move now."

Sloane studied me. Then sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

She left. I sat alone and admitted the truth: I couldn't walk away from Mason. Even when he was rude. Even when he brought home blondes. Even when he looked at me like nothing.

""""""

Friday night. Dinner at the Chen mansion.

Mrs. Chen hugged me at the door. "You look thin. Is Mason feeding you?"

"Not really."

Sloane grabbed my arm in the living room. "He's in a mood. Showed up twenty minutes ago, hasn't said a word to anyone."

Mason sat across from me at dinner. Dark blazer. Sharp jaw. He didn't look at me once.

"So, Lucy," Mr. Chen said. "Sloane tells me you're looking for work. Have you considered the foundation? You'd be working with Olivia."

Mason's fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

"I don't have much experience," I said carefully.

"You have common sense and a pulse. That's more than half our applicants."

"She's not qualified," Mason cut in.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He set down his fork, expression bored. "Lucy doesn't have the experience for foundation work. She worked a check-in table for three hours. That doesn't make her event coordinator material."

The table went quiet.

"He's right," I said, forcing a smile. "But thank you for the offer."

Dinner continued. I didn't look at Mason. But I felt his eyes on me the whole time.

I found him on the back patio after dessert. Alone by the pool.

"That was cruel," I said.

He didn't turn around. "It was honest."

"You humiliated me in front of your parents."

"I saved you from a job you would have hated. You'd hate taking charity from my family. And you'd definitely hate working with Olivia."

"Why would I hate working with Olivia?"

"I made sure you didn't get stuck somewhere you couldn't walk away from." He stepped closer. "You want to hate me? Fine. Hate me. At least you'll still have your pride."

He walked past me toward the house. At the door, he paused.

"For what it's worth, you would have been great at that job. Better than Olivia. Better than anyone."

Then he was gone.

Sloane found me by the pool. She handed me a glass of wine.

"You could still go to my parents'," she said quietly. "I feel terrible that you're stuck at his place. Derek's always at my apartment, so you can't stay with me, but my parents' guest room is empty."

"I know."

"Then why won't you go?"

I stared at the water. "Because I'm an idiot."

Sloane sighed. "Yeah. You kind of are."

She didn't push. That was Sloane. She let me make my own mistakes.

My phone buzzed.

Don't read too much into what I said. I'm still an asshole.

I typed back: I know.

Another buzz. Good. See you at home.

At home. He'd called the pool house home.

I stared at the screen until it went dark then I stood up.

I didn't go back to the pool house.

The main house door was still unlocked. The living room was dark. Mason stood by the window, whiskey in hand.

"Lucy." My name sounded different at midnight. Softer. "You shouldn't be here."

"Then why did you text me?"

He set down his glass. Crossed the room in three strides.

"Because I'm weak," he said. "Because you're under my skin and I can't scratch you out."

"Then stop trying."

His hand cupped my face. Rough. Demanding.

"If I kiss you right now—"

"Then kiss me."

He did.

Ten years of want and denial. His mouth crashed into mine like he was starving. I fisted my hands in his shirt and kissed him back like I'd been waiting my whole life.

Because I had.

Then he pulled away. Forehead pressed to mine. Both of us breathing hard. His expression became cold.

"This was a mistake," he said.

He walked upstairs without looking back.

I stood in his dark living room, lips still burning, and realized I'd been played. I wasn't the girl he couldn't resist.

I was just another blonde's replacement.