Page 60 of Played

Nathan winks. “Massive.”

I sense something more is going on, but I don’t push. Drake’s personal life isn’t my business. Their brother on the other hand… “I find it hard to believe that Mason isn’t the fun uncle.”

“Oh, he is.” Nathan takes a drink, and I’m convinced that’s the end of the conversation, but he continues. “That’s not all he is though.”

I don’t speak, worried I’ll appear too eager and cause suspicion. To my relief, he keeps going. “Mason has more charisma and charm in his little finger than most people have in their entire bodies. But that often makes people underestimate him. They think the easy charm and fun-loving playboy persona he cultivates is who he is. But he’s all heart, my little brother. He hides it well, but he’s one of the most loyal and honest people you’ll ever have the privilege of meeting.”

He stares at me over the rim of his glass while he sips more of the aged blend. Why is he telling me this? Does he know I already know these things about Mason? Mason, who’s probably lying in bed, wondering why the hell I ran out on him like he did something wrong.

I’m such a fucking asshole.

I make my excuses, gulp down the rest of my drink and, over their protestations, throw fifty bucks on the table to cover the cost of one shot. Once I’m back outside in the rain, I take off in the direction of Mason’s place, determined to tell him that tonight meant something to me. That he means something to me.

As luck would have it, another resident of the building is getting home, and I duck in the door behind him as it’s closing. The concierge immediately spots me.

“Hi, Bill. Can you let me up?” I glance behind him at the private elevator that leads to Mason’s apartment. The one that can only be accessed by a keycard, which Bill has in his inside pocket.

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“But I was up there a few hours ago.”

“And then you left, and Mr. James hasn’t advised me of any further visitors this evening.”

I scrub a hand down my face. My buzz is wearing off, and I’m halfway to feeling like a fool for coming back here. But I’m more of a fool for leaving in the first place. “That’s because he doesn’t know I’m coming. I called, but he won’t pick up.”

Bill arches an eyebrow. “Sir, you’re drunk and you are trespassing. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police and have them remove you.”

“Fuck, Bill. I was here a few hours ago. You said goodnight to me,” I protest, but Bill isn’t budging. So I try a different tactic. “Then you call him for me. Call him on the intercom thingy.” I know he has one because I’ve seen it. It lets him get a look at any unexpected visitors in the lobby.

“Sir, please.” He gestures toward the door I snuck through a minute ago. “Leave.”

“Just call him, and then I’ll leave. Please, Bill. I’m begging you. Have you ever made a huge mistake and needed someone to help you out? Please. I need to tell him one thing, and then I’ll leave.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, glancing at the elevator again. But I don’t think Bill is the kind of guy to make idle threats, and I could do without getting arrested for trying to break into Mason’s penthouse.

So I leave, and I call him instead. To my surprise, he picks up. Bill probably told him I was here as soon as I walked out of the building.

“Mase?” My tone is desperate and pleading, and if I weren’t drunk, I’d probably hate myself for it.

“What do you want, King?”

“I’m outside.”

“I know.”

“Can I come up?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Mase, please.”

He sighs. “Go home. It’s late, and I’m really fucking tired.”

I’m certain he doesn’t mean physically tired. No doubt he’s tired of this constant back and forth between us. I know I am. “Let me say one thing before you hang up.”

He doesn’t reply, so I take my shot. “I’m sorry I walked out before. But I was scared. That… What we did meant something, and I freaked out. I’ve never been good at handling my emotions, and I’m sorry. Now, would you please let me come up so I can make it up to you in person?”