Page 8 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)
I take a deep breath and follow her, putting my hand on her elbow. "I'm just bored, Izzy. I want to talk about me getting a job."
"Melody, you know you don't need to work." She gives me a pointed look as she slides into the back of the car, making room for me to get in behind her. "You have a credit card for anything you need."
I wait patiently as Henny gives his instructions to the driver before continuing to speak. "That's not the point. I want to work."
Henny looks at me now. "Melody, take the time that you could be working and focus on your math grade instead.
You need to focus on school. You know that's all we ask.
We've got everything else taken care of.
Enjoy the freedom of not needing to hustle just yet and figure out what you want to major in.
" He arches his brow. "Have you decided what you want your major to be yet? "
Now I really do roll my eyes.
Snapping my seatbelt on and folding my arms again, I look out the window, going silent.
Maybe I would know what I wanted to do had they let me get a job and gave me some room to figure out what I was passionate about.
But nope. In the reflection of the window, I see him throw Isobel a concerned look, but she just shakes her head and slides on her sunglasses, going quiet.
The rest of the drive is filled with awkward silence. Because we're at a standstill. The same standstill we've been in for months.
Soon, we roll up to the massive gates at King Compound, and as we make our way through, I entertain thoughts of doing something completely mundane. Like taking a walk in Central Park by myself. Hopping on a plane to start a new life in Hawaii, maybe selling surfboards out of a shack on a beach.
Getting out from under Isobel's thumb.
We pull up next to Mason's Ferrari, and a little thrill courses through me at the sight.
I step out of the car and make my way in, eager to get out from Isobel's suffocating presence, even if it's just for a minute.
I nod at the butler and make my way through until I hear the unmistakable chatter of the family emitting from the dinning room.
I round the corner. The maids are still setting up the sideboards with the buffet and placing pitchers of mimosas on trivets on the walnut table.
My seat has water, as usual. Maribel, Teresa, her husband Brody and their daughter Vivian are already sitting, talking and laughing. Mason's spot is empty.
I frown, my eyes roaming until I find him.
He's standing in a corner next to the big picture window that overlooks the back gardens, speaking with his father. Mason's back is turned towards me, and I let my eyes roam for just a second. Beating back familiar, lustful feelings.
Desperately forcing myself to forget any romantic feelings I harbor for him.
But it's hard when he's looking this delicious.
My heart races, and, as if he was right next to me, I inhale deeper at just the mere memory of his smell .
He's in all black today. Button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tucked into a pair of black pants that grip his ass just right.
His pants are tailored perfectly, showing me the barest hint of black socks hidden by leather dress shoes.
His chest is broad, and his arms are thicker than even the last time I'd seen him, filling out the sleeves of his shirt.
My mouth waters. His forearms are thick with prominent roping veins that cause my pussy to clench at just the mere thought of him working out.
Fuck, I love watching a sexy ass man do arm day in the gym.
My brow raises at the sight of his expensive watch glinting in the sun when he raises his hand to rub across his jaw. He used to laugh at Hendrix for stuff like that. Not now, I guess. Now, he's embracing everything he used to sneer at.
Mason screams money, and here I show up in a frumpy black shirt and Dollar General leggings.
The whole outfit probably cost half the amount of one of his shoes.
Teresa's obviously judging me, her brow raising when she sees me, though she keeps quiet.
The only time I ever let her touch me is for an event.
Richard turns his head and pins me with his eyes, breaking out into a fond smile. At his father's distraction, Mason's speech ceases, and he turns his head slightly to no doubt see what's distracted his father.
Our eyes lock, causing my heart to begin to bang out of control, but I keep going.
Breaking our eye contact, I head to the table to take my usual seat across from Mason and smile politely at everyone. Ready to get brunch over with and leave.
Isobel and Hendrix finally make their way in. Vivian, Teresa and Brody's daughter, races over to fling her arms around Mariah, thankfully distracting everyone. However, there's always one person who manages to keep their eyes on me.
Mason's mom Maribel, leans over and gives me a wink. "Hello, beautiful." She greets me with her softy accented voice. "How are you?"
"Ohhh." I smile back and reach for my glass of water. "Not much has changed since last week other than I'm now seven days older since the last time I saw you, Maribel."
I inwardly panic as a broad smile curves her lips and a spark enters her eye. She waits until Richard sits down and Mason pulls his chair out, obviously trying to catch my eye, but I keep my gaze averted, picking at my nail as the chatter escalates while everyone finds their seat at the table.
Just when I think I'm in the clear, Maribel leans forward again.
"Dearest," she says, bringing my eyes back to her where I give her a closed-lipped smile. "Speaking of getting older-"
Oh no.
-"I was speaking with Isobel. And, well, because she's so close to the end of her pregnancy, she graciously relented to letting me host your twentieth birthday party this year!"
My brows raise. "Oh, Maribel. There's no need for-"
My words die, obliterating to nothing as Isobel leans over, gushing over Maribel and thanking her and Richard for being so amazing and helping her out. Offended, I sit back in my chair and sip my water again. Not even bothering to speak up. It doesn't matter anyways.
It never does.
Mason's stare burns a hole into the side of my face, but I keep mine on Mariah and Vivian, dedicating myself to a life of no children. Because there's no way in hell I'd subject a child to this kind of life. A life where you have no autonomy and have no say over anything .
A life you can't live for yourself.
His stare is unrelenting, so I turn my head to meet his gaze head-on while I take another sip of my water, almost jumping in my seat when I feel his foot press into the side of mine.
He gives me a cheeky smile and a wink, not saying anything.
But Mason and I rarely talk in front of our family.
Instead, we leave our discussions to the four walls of Richard and Maribel's study, or my dorm, or the park when we run.
They don't know how close we are.
I press my toes into the top of his foot before giving him a playful little kick.
His brow arches and he tilts his head as he puts a bite of pancake in his mouth.
We hold each other's eye contact. His eyes flick across my shirt, and I can virtually hear him teasing me about my outfit without him even having to open his mouth.
Teresa's voice breaks through my bubble, though, but Mason can't tell.
Or won't tell. It's hard to know with him sometimes.
"Your sister's talking to you," I say simply.
He blinks, turning his face to the side to see Teresa scowling at him. "What's up?" he says in a bored tone.
"I said how's work going, jerk?" Teresa asks, rolling her eyes. "Jesus. Why even come to breakfast if you aren't going to talk to any of us?"
His eyes slide back to mine, and I blush, looking down at my plate of food. Chasing around the diced potatoes as his foot presses just a little harder against mine, and I foolishly let myself imagine he comes to these breakfasts for me.
"Work is going well. Thanks, Teresa," he says in his smooth voice.
I drop a potato on my shirt, smearing ketchup on it. "Damn," I mumble, but honestly, it's the perfect excuse to leave. "Excuse me."
I stand up, placing my napkin on the table and walking off towards the hall that leads to the bathroom. I clean up, and when I make my way to the study, Mason's right there, watching me out the side of his eye.