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As a fuck-off breakfast, it excels enough to make my gastric regions tingle with pleasure, and were I in the mood, I would’ve scoffed to my heart’s content. But the events of the early hours are still too raw and lie too heavy on my heart and mind to contemplate food.

I turn away from the spread and pick up my phone. I have fifteen minutes until the car arrives, and I want to call Bethany badly. But Mason’s robot is listening, and the conversation I want to have isn’t one I want Mason Sinclair hearing anytime soon. Or ever.

So I make my way back to the living room, perch on an Eames armchair and avoid looking at the wide sofa where Mason fucked me to paradise and back last night.

As the minutes tick by, it occurs to me that although I’ve assumed he isn’t in the house, he could be in another wing. And even though his note was succinct, I find myself asking, “Seven?”

“Yes, Miss Benson?”

“Is Mason still here… in the house?”

“No, Miss Benson.”

A tiny fountain of relief jets through me. I clear my throat. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“His coordinates show he’s on the Quai Rainier III.”

He left me to return to theIL Indulgence. “Thank you, Seven.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Benson. The car is pulling up into the driveway now. Have a good day, Miss Benson.”

I stand on rubbery legs and smooth a hand over my head. As I turn toward the door, I spot something I didn’t see in the dark and seductive lighting last night. A picture on the massive mantle framing the stone fireplace that’s tucked behind two giant iron and wood sculptures.

Everything inside me screams at me to ignore it, but my feet propel me to the opposite side of the room. I take the picture down and stare at it.

Mason has his arm around a brunette with a pixie cut hairstyle and delicate, almost doll-like features. She’s holding on to his hand and staring up at him with naked adoration that’s almost embarrassing to witness. She’s the type of woman who would look like a debutante at fifty. The kind who would most likely have men falling at her feet well into her dotage.

But it’s the look on Mason’s face that holds my attention.

He’s staring straight into the camera with the piercing look that I’m used to. His eyes gleam with amusement, but his mouth is curved in an almost cruel line that sends shivers down my spine. The look that says,Your soul is mine and I intend to fuck it from here to eternity.

I slowly replace the picture and my heart pounds as I head for the door.

It opens before I touch it, and sure enough, a sleek Mercedes sedan is pulling up to the front door. The driver exits and hurries to open the door for me, and I slide into the back seat. I don’t look at the house as we circle the driveway and head for the gates.

Instead, I find Bethany’s number and hit dial. She answers on the second ring.

“Are you alone?”

“No, but I can be,” she answers immediately. “Give me a sec.”

I hear talking in the background and grit my teeth and wait for her to extricate herself from her insanely possessive fiancé.

“Okay, I’m alone now. What’s up?” she asks as we drive through the gates.

The stunningly picturesque view of Monaco and the Cote d’Azur is spread beneath me, but I can barely look at it, never mind appreciate its beauty. Instead, I twirl my hair around my finger and try to find the right words.

“Uh oh, should I be worried?” Bethany says.

“What?” I say vaguely.

“You’re not speaking. And you’reneverlost for words,” Bethany replies.

“I…” I stop, think about my next words and throw caution to the wind. “I fucked Mason last night. I woke up this morning and he was gone.”

Bethany gasps. “Whoa, really? He doesn’t seem like a?—”

“Hit it and quit it kinda guy? I didn’t think so either,” I lie, because when it comes down to it, I have very little idea what kind of guy Mason is.