Grand Lies by JC Hawke

6

Nina

The shrill soundof my doorbell has me freezing in the shower mid hair wash. I’m not usually a jumpy person, but it’s always in the shower that my apartment seems to come to life. I start to wash the shampoo from my hair double time, the bell ringing again, more violently than the first time. Not bothering to use any conditioner, I snatch my towel from the floor and wrap it around my body before I rush from the bathroom, my feet leaving puddles in their wake.

I pull open the door just an inch to see who it is.

A delivery man is standing with a long rectangular box in his hand. He thrusts it through the small gap in a rush, making the door bounce back into my forehead.

Ouch!

“Can you sign here?” he huffs.

I try to hold my towel, the box and the pen, but it’s a task. I’m sure by the time I kick the door closed, he has probably seen my nipple. Not that the impatient jerk deserved the extra tip, he could see I was fresh from the shower.

Pulling my towel tight, I scurry to the sofa and sit down with the box. It’s matte black with gold foiling decorating it in deep swirls. Sliding off the lid, I find a single white rose nestled in the silk lining. I can’t help my smile. It’s a goofy, all-teeth kind of smile that you hope no one ever sees.

One lone rose.

It’s beautiful in its simplicity, and I know exactly who it’s from. Slipping the note from the box, I stare at it.

It’s from Mason, I’m sure of it. But something nags at my gut as I peel back the seal.

Still, excitement flares through me as I slide out the card.

You want my manners?

I want your taste. On my tongue, my cock, everywhere.

Please.

Excitement turns to shock as a wave of arousal sweeps over me, catching me off guard. I sit and stare at his words, rereading them until they don’t make sense anymore.

I was expecting something sweet to go with the beautiful gift. I was not expecting this. Grasping the pillow at my side, I begin to fan myself, thoughts of Mason and his taste—that I’ve already stolen—causing my body to heat.

I am so flipping turned on it’s ridiculous.

He would have known what his words would do to me, and I’m not sad about it. He’s had me eating out of the palm of his hands on every encounter so far.

I take his note with me to my room. The rose long forgotten.

Lying back on my bed, I let the promise in his words and the gentle touch of my fingers find the release my body desperately craves.

* * *

Mase

Elliot: Come here

I frown at my phone,wondering what the hell Elliot wants. It’s Friday and his day off.

Mase: Where?

Elliot: My office

What? Is he in today? I push my chair back from my desk, striding to the door. The reception area is empty, and Alice stands the second she sees me, her back ramrod straight.

“Is Montgomery in today?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes, he got in at around ten. Can I get you anything, Mason?”

“Yes, you can call me Mr Lowell,” I deadpan, walking off in the direction of Elliot’s office. It’s at the opposite end of the floor, the mirror of my own. I don’t knock.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, stepping into the room. He is standing in his office bathroom, rearranging his tie. “Actually, don’t answer that.” I don’t want to know.

I walk to his desk and start looking through his paperwork, my brows rising in surprise when I see he has been working.

“Don’t act so surprised, asshole. I’ve been in five days this week.” He strides back into the office, looking cocky.

“I’m more concerned than surprised.” I place my hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fuck off, Lowell,” he snaps, batting my hand away. “My dad’s been in my ear. If I don’t start doing more, he will be coming out of fucking retirement,” he grumbles, pushing his blond mop out of his eyes.

“Hey, I’m kidding,” I say honestly. “It’s good to have you here, mate.” I drop down onto the chair opposite his desk. “I just spoke to Charles. He is on his way over.”

“Good, I called Sullivan up as well,” he says.

As he says it, Alice buzzes through the intercom. “I have Charlie and Lance here for you, Elliot, Mr Lowell.”

Elliot sits back, affronted, before he leans in and speaks to Alice through the speaker. “You don’t need to tell us that. They should be on the approved list. And it’s Mr Montgomery, thanks,” he tells her.

And rightfully so, she needed to hear it from Elliot too. The line of professionalism around here is thinning by the day. We need a good shakeup. Elliot being in the office more is a start.

Charlie and Lance stroll in and start chatting shit with Elliot whilst I order in our lunch. It’s been months since we have all been in the office together. Charles Aldridge—our best friend—is a lawyer and works in an office just a few minutes up the road. We have known him since college. He opened his own firm six years ago and now has four spread out over the country. Turning over five million pounds last year, it’s safe to say he is doing alright for himself.

Lance Sullivan works downstairs, running our accounts department. He is two years younger than the three of us, but it doesn’t show. Not only does he fit with us, but he also keeps the company financially stable—A multimillion pound company. He may be a prick at times, but he is a savage, and I wouldn’t have anyone else in his place.

“We are going out tonight, yeah?” Sullivan asks when I’m off the phone.

I stand and walk to the sofa, leaning on the back of it. “Yeah, I’m game. Where you thinking?” I ask.

“Somewhere that’s got plenty of pussy.” Elliot smiles, stretching back in the seat and widening his knees.

Charlie cringes, thwacking him in the gut with a cushion and making Elliot shoot forward.

“I’d start looking at the quality instead of quantity if I were you, mate,” Charlie tells him.

He shrugs. “That’s what my forties are for. I’m in my prime and ready to give a good ribbing.”

“You’re pure filth, Montgomery.” Charlie chuckles.

“Sue me!” Elliot replies.

“Please, fucking sue him,” Lance pipes up. “He wouldn’t stand a chance in prison,” he laughs.

“Fucking funny, Sullivan. Keep it up, and you can eat in your office on your own.”

“Calm your tits, Elliot. He was only joking—”

My eyes snap up when Vinny walks into the room. I don’t think I had any appointments today. Have I missed something? It wouldn’t surprise me if I had. My mind has been preoccupied this past week.

“Alright, Vin?” I ask.

“A word,” he says.

I look to the boys. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

His jaw locks, annoyance etching the lines of his face. “Nina Anderson. You asked me to let you know… she is currently at The Elm café with Joey Wilson.”

Joey fucking Wilson. I should have known he wouldn’t listen; the little prick has a death wish.

“She is having coffee, Mason,” Vinny assures me. “I don’t think It’s necessary to—”

Charlie sits forward, cutting Vinny off as I stand. “Think before you do anything stupid, Lowell.”

“Vinny, is Nina safe with Joey?” I ask, not looking at him, already knowing the answer.

“Sat in a public café, yes, I would have intervened if she wasn’t.”

“And if she leaves with him?” I shoot back.

“She is smarter than you think Mason, give the girl some credit.” Vinny says.

Nina is smart. That isn’t my worry. My concern lies with him and the file on my desk that tells me everything I need to know about the prick.

“No. Let’s go.” I leave my friends in the office, not willing to risk it and not giving a shit what anybody thinks.

* * *

Nina

My feet dragas I make my way to The Elm, annoyed that I agreed to meet Joey in the first place. I plan to have a coffee and then get out of there. Fast. I need to set him straight and tell him I’m not interested. He can’t think he has a chance, making advances on nights out and sending me flowers.

I call Lucy before I turn the corner to the café.

“Hey, babe, you on lunch?” Lucy’s infectious voice chimes down the line, instantly making me smile.

“Hey! Ugh, yes. I’m about to meet Joey at The Elm,” I groan.

“What? Why?” She tuts into the phone. “You don’t owe him anything, Nina.”

“I felt bad, and I haven’t ever set him straight. I need to put a stop to it for his own benefit. The poor bloke got his nose broke!”

She huffs, relenting. “Fair enough, but men need to learn not to presume that because we are nice to them, we want to sleep with them. You haven’t led him on here. Not once.”

“I agree.” I start to laugh as I think of Mason and how I’ve not been nice to him, yet he still pursues me.

“What’s funny?” she asks.

“I have so much to tell you girls! Can we go out tonight?”

“Yes! Where?” she says excitedly. “I will ring Megs now!”

“Hold on, that’s not why I rang!” I rush out.

“I know, you want me to call in twenty with a broken arm or something. I got you, girl!”

I laugh at the fool. “Only if I text you! I will call after. Love you, Luce.” I hang up.

Joey is already seated when I enter the café, and I make my way over to him.

He stands to kiss my cheek. “Nina! You made it.”

“Of course, how are you?”

“I’m okay.” His eyes drop to his watch, then flick back to my face.

“Good, sorry. I had a class,” I explain.

I’ve only ever seen Joey at the gym in passing once, and then in the darkness of clubs when I’ve seen him on nights out, so I quickly do a scan of him from head to toe, trying to get a feel for his mood.

His hair is neatly cut on the sides but longer on top, the inky strands falling in front of deep green eyes until he pushes it back and off his face. I can see he still has some light, purple bruising under each eye but otherwise seems to have recovered. His body is lean, I wouldn’t say he works out, but he naturally has definition in all the right places. If he didn’t try so hard, I probably would have gone on a date with him by now.

“Sit down,” he tells me. “I’ll get our drinks. What do you fancy?”

I give him my order, and he goes to the counter.

I sit and scroll through my phone, wondering whether I can text Luce now to save me. The thought gives me pause, and I look up at Joey. He hasn’t done anything wrong; he just doesn’t understand where my head is at. And maybe that’s on me.

Once he is sitting back down, I prepare myself, searching for the right words to say to him.

“So, I wanted to apologise for last week, and you should know I forgive you,” he says.

What?

He forgives me?!

I swallow the anger bubbling up in my throat. “Sorry, you forgive me for what exactly?”

He seems surprised, his brows dropping low. “For leaving with that dickhead who hit me.”

I sit back in my seat, trying to mask my annoyance. “Joey, you need to understand something, and I’m sorry for putting it so bluntly, but I’m not interested in anything other than a friendship with you. And! Who I spend time with has absolutely nothing to do with you. I certainly don’t want your forgiveness.”

“Oh, of course. I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought… you know. You didn’t know him so…”

“As I said, it’s really not your business. I’m sorry for everything that happened in the club and the way things ended.” I pause. “You did hit him first, though, Joey. You almost hit me.”

He runs his hand over his face. “I know. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

My shoulders sag, feeling better now I’ve been honest with him. “It’s fine. It’s done now. Let’s just move on from it.” I give a half smile, feeling awkward and wanting to wrap things up.

“Yeah, sure, and I’m sorry again.” He steeples his hands, resting them against his mouth, a pensive look on his face.

My knee bounces under the table, my patience wearing thin. “What is it?”

“I have a huge favour to ask, and you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I feel like I’ve screwed things up to be honest, and I probably shouldn’t ask, but you are kind of perfect for it.” He watches me for a reaction, but I keep my face stoic. “I have a unit coming up in my course that looks at the art of dance. We are required to capture it in images. I’m hoping you will help me?”

My brows rise involuntarily, not expecting what he has said at all. I should say no. But it’s dance, and it’s what I know. He has me intrigued, and I can’t help but want to know more.

“What are you studying?” I ask.

Joey’s face drops, and I bristle in my seat. Crap! I’m presuming he has told me before, and it only makes me feel worse.

“Photography. The gallery I work at will display the prints as well, so it’s great publicity for you and the company.”

It does sound good. My classes are mostly full, but I have room for more. And I want more. I want to grow the business more than anything else.

I grab a pen from my bag and start to scribble my email down on the napkin. “Could you send me some more details? It sounds really—”

“Like you’re trying to piss me off,” Mason’s voice comes out a growl at my back.

My pen falls to the floor as I spin in my seat, my eyes going wide when I find him standing behind me.

The man makes me feel unhinged.

A mixture of anger and elation that he has shown up stirs in my gut, and it’s somewhat frustrating—and intriguing.

Today’s suit is black pinstripe, and I momentarily allow myself to imagine the pleasure it would bring me to remove every single piece of it, right down to his tie pin. My eyes move to his beautiful face. His jaw is locked tight, his lips mashed in a thin line. “Out now,” he barks, and although it’s meant for me, his eyes are fixed on Joey.

If looks could kill, Joey would be in a box on the way to the morgue. To his credit, he doesn’t cower down to Mason. He stands tall.

A laugh bubbles in my throat, and I try to find the right words as I sit bamboozled by Mason’s balls. I mean, they must be pretty freaking huge at this point. “Who do you thin—”

“Don’t speak to her like that! You can’t tell her what to do!” Joey’s voice rises, shaking with anger.

“Nina. Out. Now,” Mason snarls over my head.

I recoil at his words once again. “No! Both of you stop. This is getting ridiculous.” They will be brawling in the damn coffee shop in a minute.

I stand, picking up my bag. “Look, Joey, here is my email, just send me—”

Mason snatches the napkin from my hand, balling it up before claiming my wrist in his grip. He pulls me through the coffee shop and out the door.

“Mason!” I fume. “Let go of me!” I fight against him, but his hold is too strong.

“You’ll damn well listen to me,” he spits.

“No. I won’t! Mase, let go of my arm now,” I warn.

He pulls open the door to the Audi, then looks down at where I stand beside him. His forehead creases as his eyes search my face. “Please,” he asks, closing his eyes briefly and pulling in a breath before loosening his hold on me. “Get in the car.”

Ripping my arm away, I turn to and stand toe to toe with him. “I’m getting in the car because I deserve an explanation, not because I want to spend another second with you—and you should be thankful that I am even giving you the opportunity.”

I duck down and step into the car, the door slamming shut as I turn to look at Vinny in the driver’s seat. Whipping my head around, I see Mason striding back across the street and towards the café.

Shit! I go to open the door, and the lock clicks.

“Vinny! No! You didn’t see him in there. He is fucking wild,” I cry, adrenaline making my hand tremble on the handle.

“Mason is only acting out of concern for you, and keeping you out of harm’s way. You need to trust him,” Vinny replies flatly.

I widen my eyes at him. He has gone mad. “Vinny, Please. You go, and I will wait here.” I try to reason with him. “But please do something. One of them is going to get hurt.”

He doesn’t budge, doesn’t answer me, doesn’t even acknowledge I’m in the car. I sit staring in the direction Mase went, waiting for him to reappear.

It’s only a few minutes later that he emerges from the café, his face like stone and muscles taut as he strides towards me, looking every bit of the god that he is. I scoot across the seat as he yanks open the door and squeeze’s in next to me.

He doesn’t say a word, his knee brushing mine as he widens his legs, sinking deeper into the leather. His tongue runs across the front of his teeth, and he sits, staring straight ahead.

“What the fuck was that!” I yell as Vinny pulls out into traffic.

“Don’t.” Mason raises his finger in the air, nodding towards Vinny.

“Vinny doesn’t give a shit! He clearly knows what a headcase you are!” I proclaim, my anger getting the better of me.

His nostrils flare as he continues to try and calm himself. I don’t think I’m helping the situation, but I’m not about to roll over and take his bullshit. He runs his hand back and forth across his mouth, his silence only heightening my annoyance.

“I only met up with him to apologise and make sure he was okay. Why did you have to make such a big deal about it, and why do you even care?” I ask.

His glare turns on me. “You went to apologise? For what?”

“Everything that happened on Friday night. Your friend Elliot made a fool of him at the bar, and then you ended up choking him and—”

“He almost hit you! You…” His hands ball into fists as he pauses, shaking his head. “You don’t know him, Nina. You need to be more careful.”

“I don’t fucking know you, Mason! But you seem to think I should obey your every word.”

“You’re right. You don’t know me,” he scoffs. “You’ve just confirmed my point exactly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I squint at him.

“Well, it didn’t take a lot to get you to go home with me, did it?”

Did he just say that?

I hear Vinny tut in the front seat, obviously a lot fucking smarter than his boss. “Vinny, take me back to the studio, please.”

Mason’s head snaps between us. “What now?”

I stare out the window, not wanting to speak or look at him when he can so easily cut me with his words. He came to me last Friday at the club, not the other way around. He came to me at the studio this week, and he came to the café today. For him to sit and judge me on my actions is infuriating.

Wait.

I whip my head around to face him. “How did you know where I was?”

He averts his eyes to the front of the car, it’s quick, but I don’t miss it. I look to Vinny, but his eyes are focused on the road.

“You followed me?” I shout.

“Vinny was in the area and saw you, then notified me,” Mason says dismissively as if it isn’t weird.

“Why? Why would he do that?” I frown.

Mason sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Because I asked him to,” he mutters, his head dropping back against the seat.

“Unbelievable! Do you have any idea how fucked up this is?”

“Watch your language,” he scolds me.

“Fuck yo—”

Before I can finish, he unbuckles my seat belt and tugs me across the seat to straddle him. One hand finds my hip while the other glides up my neck.

“I do what I do so that I know you are safe. I have an overwhelming need to protect you, Nina, and I won’t apologise for it,” he whispers, quiet enough that Vinny can’t hear. His eyes skim every inch of my face as if he can’t pick a feature to settle on.

“I want to take you out.” His features soften, his thumb stretching up to brush across my cheek. “Please, don’t fight me on this. This isn’t me.” He shakes his head, his eyes resolute. “You make me fucking crazy.” The feel of his fingers flexing against my hips makes me shudder. “Give me a chance to show you.” He licks at his bottom lip, his mouth so close I can almost taste him. “One more night. If you still hate me after that, then I’ll leave you alone.”

I sit back on his lap. “Like a date?”

“You can call it whatever you want.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile. “I don’t hate you, Mason.”

He smirks, all cocky, and although I love the way he is looking at me, the way he feels beneath me, I know I need to make this harder for him.

“Say please,” I taunt softly into his ear.

“Baby,” he rasps, making my stomach bottom out. “You know what will happen if you demand my manners.”

I ground down on him, brazenly rolling my hips over his cock as if I have every right in the world to do it. As if he is mine. “Say. Please.”

He tips his chin up at me, dropping his dark eyes to my lips. “Please.”

Leaning in, I brush my mouth over his. “I’ll think about it, Bossman.” I smile, climbing from his lap and back to my seat.

He shakes his head at me as he rearranges himself in his trousers. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Glancing out the window, I notice we are nearly at the studio, and then realisation sinks in. I look to Vinny, feeling mortified that I allowed the sex maniac beside me to corrupt me. My cheeks heat.

Sensing Mason’s eyes on me, I look at him.

“Vinny, give us a minute, please,” he asks.

Vinny exits the car and stands at the entrance of the studio.

I should be mad at Mason. He completely violated my privacy by having me followed and then made a show of himself and me in the café. But something bigger, more powerful than my anger, wins out.

Sat twisted in my seat, I chew on my bottom lip as a smile slowly forces its way onto my face. His large hand grasps me at the back of the neck, pulling me forward onto his waiting mouth—and I let him.

His forehead creases as our lips touch, a deep sigh leaving him as if the kiss is as necessary as the air he breathes. His tongue swipes through my mouth, seeking mine out and deepening the kiss. My body goes lax as I melt into him, my hand smoothing through his hair.

We kiss for what feels like hours, neither one of us able to pull ourselves away, and it’s not until my fingers inch up his thigh, reaching for him, that he finally releases my lips.

A whimper leaves me.

He drops his forehead to mine, his lips wet and swollen from our kiss, and he looks at me with so much desire in his eyes it has me paralysed in my seat.

Not being able to help himself, he gives me one more soft kiss before letting me go.

“I will pick you up at seven thirty tomorrow evening,” he tells me.

I nod, too overwhelmed by the man in front of me to speak.

* * *

My eyes rakeover my reflection in the free-standing mirror as I stand trying to convince myself I’m not my mother. It’s hard when we look so similar. I’m wearing one of Megan’s dresses, and it’s slightly on the risqué side. The white material plasters itself to my every curve.

Lucy has styled my hair in soft waves that fall to my waist. My makeup is heavier than usual, with smoky eyes and bloodred lips. I should have saved all this effort for my date with Mase.

Shit. My date with Mase.

I haven’t told the girls yet, and I’m slightly nervous. No doubt they will be over the top about it, and I don’t want to make the evening all about me.

I join them in the kitchen for a glass of wine.

“Ugh, I can’t get an Uber for an hour. My rating is shit. Megan, it’s your fault you miss them all the time!” Lucy complains.

“Oh, shush. Nina, you do it,” Megan suggests.

I check my phone, my rating just as bad. Crap! I think about booking a taxi, but then Vinny comes to mind. No. I can’t, can I? I go to my bag, searching for the card he gave me.

I stare at it for the longest time, contemplating calling the number but feeling bad, especially after this afternoon. Actually, no. He owes me after following me.

I dial the number, and he answers on the first ring.

“Nina, is everything alright?” he says, worried, making me feel bad.

“Hi! Sorry for calling so late. I was hoping I could get a lift. I can’t get a Uber, and I just thought I would call you, but I can—”

“Nina, it’s fine. Where are you?”

“I’m at my apartment. I’m with my friends.”

“I will leave now,” he says before hanging up.

“Got a lift, girls.” I smile sheepishly over at them.

“Good! Now come help finish this bottle before it’s time to go.” Megan smiles, holding up the bottle.

* * *

We arein a fit of giggles as we slide into the back of the Audi, choosing to squeeze in together rather than sit separately. We polished off two bottles of wine whilst getting ready, and now my body is buzzing with adrenaline.

“Good evening, ladies.” Vinny smiles.

“Hello, Vinny,” Lucy coos. “I’ve heard lots about you!”

“God, you’re alright for an older bloke,” Megan exclaims.

I elbow her in the ribs, the three of us chuckling together.

“Where are we off to tonight?”

“The Pearl, please,” I say, sitting forward in my seat. “Did you drop Mase home this evening?” I ask.

“I did. I just dropped him off, actually.”

“He’s working late again? Is everything okay?” I ask.

He smiles. “No, not at home, and everything is fine. He is out with friends this evening.”

“Oh, where did he go? Where did you drop him?” Lucy asks, poking her head forward.

“Sorry girls, it’s not worth the headache,” he chuckles.

“It’s fine, Vinny. It’s girls’ night anyway,” I say, sitting back in the seat.

“Screw girls’ night! I want to meet the famous Mr Lowell,” Megan whines.

Lizzo starts playing on the radio, and the girls start singing along, thankfully forgetting about Mason.

“Vinny, can you turn it up, please?” Luce sings.

Fifteen minutes later, we are pulling up at the curb. I glance out the window noticing we’re not at The Pearl.

“Where are we?” I question.

“Melders. You girls have a good night.” Vinny smirks, looking straight ahead.

“Yes! Thank you, Vinny!” Megan cheers, ruffling his short hair before climbing out of the car.

“Vinny!” I jokingly scold as Lucy slides from the car excitedly, joining Megan on the pavement.

Vinny’s eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. “You didn’t see me, okay?” He winks.