Net Worth by Amelia Wilde
23
Charlotte
Mason knowswhat’s going to happen, and I don’t.
It’s the story of our entire relationship so far. Our entire arrangement. He knows what’s coming, and I have to find out. It’s always embarrassing. It’s always shameful. It’s always hot.
Except this.
This isn’t hot.
The shameful part is that he looks sexy behind the wheel of a car, or in this case, his SUV. Sexy with his big hands curved around it and his eyes on the road. I shouldn’t even notice those things about him because what we’re driving toward is going to be terrible. I know that from the dark look in his eyes. The tic in his jaw every time he moves his foot on the pedal. The anger radiating from him. Filling the air. The night.
What am I trying to do here? Distract myself by looking at him?
Yes.
Something shuttered over his face in his bedroom and it hasn’t lifted yet, and maybe that’s the worst part of all. I’m grasping for anything. Show me where the thread goes. Show me how the pieces fit together. Show me how the world makes sense.
I came to Mason because my father finally lost it. He finally drank enough to be dangerous, to hurt me, and I couldn’t think of a single other place to go.
The information was important—I knew it was. Mason’s face when I told him was too carefully neutral, and then it wasn’t, and I should know what’s happening here. I should know what the terrible secret is. Beyond the insurance money. Beyond the theft.
The cut on my face throbs under the bandage he put on. With careful hands, like he’d done it before. He has, I think. He’s taken care of people. It felt good for him to take care of me.
It’s all so much.
He makes the final turn onto the block where Cornerstone is.
All this time, I’ve been trying to hold it together for the inevitable reveal. Trying to seem fine, fine, fine while I’m scared out of my mind and very little is making sense. But I can’t stop myself from gasping when I see the wild orange flames against a stark black sky.
It’s on fire.
Cornerstone is on fire.
I feel like a seam ripping away from fabric. The whole damn thing is coming apart in my hands. It’s on fire.
It’s on fire.
Flames shoot out the top of the building. It’s already spread. It’s in almost every window I can see and orange streaks cut into the light pollution above the city. The air coats my tongue with heat and ash, even inside Mason’s car. It comes in through the vents. It saturates the air.
Fire trucks are at angles from the building like needles in a pincushion.
Water jets from hoses, but there’s just no way.
There’s no way they can stop it, with those tiny streams of water and that huge, roaring fire. And not all of them are trying. More trucks rush by with sirens screaming, and a crew jumps out at the next building over. There should be enough of a buffer. Shouldn’t there? There should be enough space, unless the wind picks up, unless the wind carries embers from building to building. Unless the whole city burns down.
I can’t think like that. People are coming to help. People are doing the right thing, even though my life is really over now. Even though it’s literally going up in a cloud of black smoke.
Mason pulls the SUV to a stop behind a fire truck and gets out.
Something’s wrong. The way he’s moving is wrong.
A hitch in his step.
It has to be his knee. I don’t know what’s wrong with his knee. He’s never told me. But it’s obvious now, as he strides across the empty street. He must have been injured at some point. A severe injury that never fully healed, despite his surgeries and scars.
A pair of abandoned work boots lay haphazardly on the concrete next to the fire truck. Someone was in a rush to get here and had to change—someone ran toward this fire, to try to save what can’t be saved.
My hands are numb on the handle but I get out into the heat. It’s eating through the humidity of the summer air, drying it out. We’re not close enough to be in danger but it feels like it—it feels too close. My heart is in my throat. My heart is on the ground. It doesn’t know where it wants to be. I see my father’s glass flying through the air and even now I can’t get out of the way in time.
Where else can I go, but to his side? Mason’s opaque to me. He’s been inside me, fucked me, punished me, but I still don’t know what’s happening in his mind. That’s impossible to know unless a person tells you, and he hasn’t told me. He has kept himself away from me. Bound by the terms of our agreement.
Flames tower from the top of the building, adding the kind of height that would have made Cornerstone a New York City destination. They lick at the air. Devour it. How can the firefighters stop this from the ground? They can’t take ladders up there. People shouldn’t die over this. At least no one was inside. No one lives here yet. It’s just my life that’s ruined.
Oh, god, what are we going to do?
“How did this happen?” I think my question might be swallowed by the flame and the sirens and the spray of the water, but Mason rounds on me. “What happened?”
His mouth is a slash, his eyes cruel on my face, on the cut. “It’s your fucking family. Your father did this. He did it now so it would be impossible to make money off the Cornerstone development.”
“No,” I say, because my mind can’t comprehend that. “No.”
A mean laugh. “Don’t be foolish, Ms. Van Kempt. He told you himself. What works once will work again.” Why does it hurt so much for him to throw my father’s words at me? They’re not mine. I’m not him. “His drunk ass told you about insurance payouts. He wanted to see my father’s face. Cornerstone? Fuck Cornerstone. If he set this fire now—which he did—that means he set the one that killed my parents fourteen years ago.”
“You’re talking crazy because you’re angry. It’s not true.”
I don’t know I’m shaking my head until his hands come to my face, his grip as harsh as his belt. Even in his furious struggle, he’s careful not to press on the cut. “Don’t shake your head at me, you sweet little thing.” I gasp at the insult in his tone. “Don’t you tell me no. He did this.”
“Sir, you need to get back. Sir.” A cop yells over the roar of the fire, the rush of water from hoses. He gestures hard for us to move away.
“I own this building,” Mason says, his voice stark.
The cop stops then. He looks back at the flames. “Damn,” he mutters. Then he gives me a sideways glance. “You still need to back up. It’s dangerous here.”
Mason curses, so fierce it makes me flinch. “Stay here,” he says. The fire is in his eyes now, orange vivid on the green. “You. Watch her.”
He strides away, leaving me with a cop who says something into his walkie talkie. Probably something about a crazy man trying to walk into a goddamn fire.
Of course I run after him. Heat from the flames licks over my skin. This close I can feel that itch that can only come from a fire. My senses are overwhelmed. “What are you doing?”
“Stay back.” He doesn’t even slow down.
“There’s no way my father could have done this.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, Mason or me. The pieces fit together too well. My father knew this was happening. He made it happen.
“What the fuck did you think he was talking about?” He doesn’t stop walking, striding through a barricade and passing a firefighter in full gear. Pain edges his voice, and my stomach drops to where my heart lies on the pavement beneath us.
“Please stop walking. I know it’s hurting you,” I say, because I can’t argue with him, not really. I can’t. My father was gleeful when he told me about what he’d done, even if he didn’t list all the specifics. He wouldn’t have. He likes to leave himself the benefit of the doubt, and that’s what I’ve always given him. He was kind to me growing up, and I knew that kindness didn’t extend to everyone, but I can’t make myself believe that he’s done this. I can’t force the two people together in my mind. “I know something’s wrong with your knee.”
“Like what?” He whirls to face me. The question is deadly soft. Deadly calm. The fire roars and crackles. “Any guesses? You’ve seen me naked. What do you think happened?”
His eyes are so bright with pain I can hardly breathe. I force myself to do it anyway. “I’ve seen the way you walk sometimes. And I’ve seen your scars. Your clothes—” I can’t explain the clothes. Not in a way anyone else would understand. “You hurt your knee somehow.”
“Right. I hurt it.” A vicious laugh. None of the kindness from earlier. None of the softness. “Some high school sports bullshit. A car accident. That’s what you’re imagining. No, you sweet little thing. My knee broke my fall.”
Dry air. Dry heat. Tinder in Mason’s eyes. “What kind of fall?”
He passes the building as if it means nothing. Millions of dollars in real estate and construction. Of course it means nothing. It’s on fire. Instead he goes to the next building, where people are rushing to exit. It’s an apartment building. I’ve been to the Cornerstone enough times, seen people coming and going, seen children playing on the steps. People rush out wearing pajamas, their eyes full of fear, hands full of babies and pets. They’re almost trampling each other in their rush. It’s chaos.
“This way,” Mason says, his voice cutting through the panic. He takes a small child from a mother struggling with an elderly woman. And passes her to me.
I have no experience with children, but here I am, holding one. Responsible for it in the middle of a disaster. “Shhh,” I say, smoothing down curls. “Everything will be okay.”
Because of first responders. Because of people like Mason who take charge in an emergency. He organizes the people exiting the building, asking if anyone is injured, finding out if there’s a family member left inside. I help him for the two hours it takes the fire department to get the Cornerstone under control, passing out water and helping corral terrified pets.
When we’re finished, I stagger to the side of the building. My clothes are wet with sweat and lingering water from the hoses. And possibly throw up from a small child.
I push my hair away from my face. Mason looks just as much a mess as me—and impossibly handsome. The hitch in his gait grew stronger as time went on, as he went up and down the steps. He must have hidden his pain all this time.
He comes to me. Without a word, he holds out a bottle of water. I handed out so many, but I never took one for myself. Thirst is a burning sensation. I’ve never been hungry. Or thirsty. I’ve lived a privileged life—because my father took care of us. I didn’t know he did it at the expense of others. I didn’t know he would do something this vicious. The water bottle crinkles in my hard grip. I can’t make myself take a drink. Not until I know.
“What kind of fall?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
He’s quiet a moment, and I think he doesn’t understand the question. It’s from hours ago, this conversation. “From the fourth story of a building that was on fire.”
“No,” I whisper, imagining a scene like this one, ending in tragedy.
“The fire that destroyed my knee. It was the same fire that killed my parents.”
“You were there.”
“I always knew that your father was the bastard who turned his back on my family. I knew he was a thief.” His jaw works. “Until tonight I didn’t know he was a murderer.”
My throat tightens. How can I defend the indefensible? It’s terrible what my father did tonight. What he might have done in the past. But he’s still my father. “Mason.”
A grim smile. “Do you know why I sent that offer? Do you know why I blocked every other deal? It wasn’t because I was interested in the fucking Cornerstone development. Or your goddamn company. It was so I could get revenge on your father.”
It shouldn’t feel like a physical blow, but it does. “You don’t mean that.”
“Then you showed up, so perfect and pure. I thought, what better way to ruin her father than to defile his daughter? And it worked. It worked beautifully.”
“No. Please.”
“There’s no point in begging, Ms. Van Kempt. He murdered my parents. No matter how pretty you do it, no matter how nice you say please, I’m going to kill him.”
Thank you for reading NET WORTH. This revenge romance is scorching hot! Find out how far Charlotte will go to protect her family. And how determined Mason Hill is to take vengeance.
One-click HOSTILE TAKEOVER now >
The stakes are higher than money. They’re deeper than secrets. They’re life or death when Mason Hill sets his sights on the Van Kempt family. Charlotte’s hopes and dreams crash down around her. She questions everything, especially her own father. But she’s always understood the value of loyalty. She’ll defend her parents’ lives—even if it means risking her own.
Mason’s mysterious billionaire friend Hades has his own romance trilogy, now complete! Read the first book in this dark, contemporary retelling of the Hades & Persephone myth in KING OF SHADOWS.
One-click KING OF SHADOWS now >
A mysterious billionaire...
Hades owns a diamond mine, but he wants something money can't buy—Persephone. The innocent young woman challenges his claim on her.
He'll stop at nothing to have her.
The contract is binding.
The daughter of his enemy...
Persephone wants freedom more than anything. Instead she falls into the hands of a ruthless businessman. He demands complete possession of her. Body. Mind. Soul.
He wants her submission. She demands his secrets.
Their sensual battle may break them both.
The billionaire Charlotte approaches for help, Leo Morelli, is the beloved antihero in the completed Beauty and the Beast trilogy! SECRET BEAST is a dark, angsty retelling of the Beauty and the Beast story from Amelia Wilde and Dangerous Press.
One-click SECRET BEAST now >
The beast hides a dark secret in his past…
Leo Morelli is known as the Beast of Bishop's Landing for his cruelty. He’ll get revenge on the Constantine family and make millions of dollars in the process. Even it means using an old man who dreams up wild inventions.
The beauty will sacrifice everything for her family...
Haley Constantine will do anything to protect her father. Even trade her body for his life. The college student must spend thirty days with the ruthless billionaire. He’ll make her earn her freedom in degrading ways, but in the end he needs her to set him free.
SECRET BEAST is a new full-length novel from USA Today bestselling author Amelia Wilde about revenge, family secrets, and the redeeming power of love.
