Chapter 7 - THE RECEPTION OF THE DAMNED
The evening reception inside the grand glass pavilion was supposed to be a joyous celebration of matrimony, but the air inside had grown heavy, charged with a strange, invisible static.
Maya sat beside Mason at the head table, her fingers wrapped so tightly around the stem of her champagne flute that the crystal felt like it might snap.
“Who were they?” she whispered, leaning in close so her lips brushed the shell of his ear. Her voice was shaking.
Mason didn't turn his head. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, watching cousin Toby clumsily attempt to dance the foxtrot with a bridesmaid near the bandstand.
“A local disagreement regarding port logistics,” Mason replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any emotion. “A rival firm that didn't appreciate losing a municipal shipping contract in Tacoma last month.”
“A rival firm,” Maya repeated flatly, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Mason, those men looked like they were auditioning for a cartel hit squad! They didn't look like accountants from Tacoma!”
“In my line of work, Maya, logistics and security often overlap,” he said, finally turning his head to look at her. His gray eyes softened slightly as he reached out, covering her trembling hand with his large, warm palm. “It’s over. They’ve been relocated to a facility where they won't be interrupting weddings anymore.”
Relocated. That was a terrifying corporate euphemism if Maya had ever heard one.
“You’re not an ordinary investor, are you?” she asked, her voice dropping into a desperate, hollow whisper. “You’re... you’re the guy my mother warned me about when she talked about the men who run the Seattle waterfront.”
Mason stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. The silence between them stretched thin and tight, threatening to snap.
“No,” Mason said quietly, his voice dead serious. “I’m not an ordinary investor. And if you want to walk away right now—take my car, take my private plane, go back to your apartment and pretend this weekend never happened—I will arrange it immediately. No questions asked. You will never see me again.”
Maya looked down at his hand covering hers. She thought about her cramped studio apartment, the hiss of the espresso machine, the endless, grinding cycle of bills, tips, and loneliness.
And then she thought about the man sitting beside her—the man who had stepped into a fake relationship on a whim, defended her family’s honor with effortless intimidation, and neutralized a threat before she even had time to scream.
She looked up, meeting his storm-gray eyes with a fierce, unwavering defiance.
“And miss the cake?” Maya whispered, a reckless, brilliant smile breaking across her face. “Not a chance.”
May you like
A slow, breathtaking smile broke across Mason’s face—the first real, unguarded smile she had ever seen from him.
“Good,” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a warm, lingering kiss against her knuckles. “Because I haven't even started investing in you yet.”
