Page 95 of House of Payne

What did you expect from a man like Mason?

Heaving a deep sigh, I flip onto my back and force my eyes open to look at the ceiling.

Call your dad and Noah. Figure out how you’re going to fix this before it’s too late.

I stay there for the longest time, wondering how hard I have to wish to undo last night.

When the sun is high in the sky, and I still haven’t shaken my thoughts of him. Finally, I stand, and grimace. In the adjoining bathroom, I let my clothes fall into a heap on the floor, turn on the water, and draw back the shower curtain. The hot water cascades down my back and shoulders before swirling at my feet.

My fingers tremble as I run a bar of soap over my skin, shivering as I imagine Mason’s fingers there instead.

Once out, I change back into last night’s clothes and run a towel through my hair.

Mason didn’t explicitly say I couldn’t stay, but something about walking back to the complex with the smell of him all over me seems wrong.

I don’t want to be branded, and showering has made me feel steadier.

If only it was that easy to wash away my confusion.

On my way out of the room, I run into a housekeeper dressed in dark pants and a button-down shirt. She brushes past me wordlessly, and I hangmy head. I stumble out of the hallway to the dining room, and then, I see the marble kitchen counter overlooking the living room.

An assortment of Danishes is sitting out.

I gulp down a cup of cold coffee and make my way to the elevators, thankful that my ID is tucked into my coat pocket. Once I hear the familiar ping of the elevators, I lean back and exhale. I’m still counting backward and reminding myself of why I can’t walk away when the doors whoosh open.

Miss Deveroux is, thankfully, standing behind the bar talking to one of the bald security guards.

She raises an eyebrow when she sees me.

I wonder if everyone else can see it, too.

How many people will view me as Mason’s latest conquest after today?

When I reach her, she reaches for a bottle from the shelf behind her and pours a shot directly into the glass.

I sink onto the stool and lean against the counter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You look like you could use it,” she replies, pausing to pour herself the same amount. “Or maybe I need it. Judging by the look on your face, I’m going to guess that you finally gave in.”

I blow out a breath. “It wasn’t like that.”

Miss Deveroux leans forward and offers a sympathetic smile. “Honey, it never is. What happened?”

“My boyfriend and dad, they… they found out I work here. Notherehere, but at the club, and they didn’t take it well—”

“What did you expect?”

Miss Deveroux’s words shouldn’t hurt, but they do.

It feels like someone has reached inside my chest and is twisting my heart.

I know she doesn’t mean any harm, but having that fact thrown in myface makes it harder. I shouldn’t be sitting here pouring my heart out to her. I should be on my way back home to grovel and make whatever amends are necessary.

Grovel for what? You didn’t do anything wrong. Your dad got himself into this mess, and you did what you had to do to get him out.

And I can’t tell them the truth, so what good would asking for forgiveness do?

For the first time in my life, I don’t have a clear plan for myself, and my dad and Noah feel farther away than ever.