Chapter 59 Touch Me Like You Hate Me (8)

Chapter 59 Touch Me Like You Hate Me (8)
A month passed in a blur.
Everything was finally moving smoothly. It had been exactly four weeks since I walked out of Mason’s house. In that time, I had stepped directly into my rightful place at the Hawthorne Group, running my father’s massive multi-billion-dollar conglomerate on his behalf.
True to form, Mason had signed the divorce papers within twenty-four hours of being served. He was a narcissist, but he wasn’t entirely stupid—he knew better than to go to war when Mr. Blackwood was holding all the cards. He thought he was free of me. He thought he had won by keeping his dwindling corporate shares.
I was sitting behind my massive executive desk, reviewing the latest quarterly acquisitions, when my assistant pushed open the double doors.
“Miss Hawthorne,” Lina called out, stepping into the pristine, modern office. “A Mr. Mason Sterling is outside. He claims he has an appointment to see the chairperson regarding the logistics contract.”
Mason?
My heart skipped a beat at the sheer mention of his name, a sharp thrill of anticipation coursing through my veins.
“Let him in,” I said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my lips as I leaned back comfortably in my high-backed leather chair. I intertwined my fingers, resting them over my knee. I couldn’t wait to see the exact moment the color drained from his arrogant face.
“Right away, ma’am.”
A moment later, Lina escorted Mason into the room. He was dressed in one of his typical sharp corporate suits, clutching a leather portfolio, his eyes scanning the luxurious penthouse office with an air of desperate entitlement. But the second his eyes landed on the woman sitting in the power chair, he froze dead in his tracks.
“You... You...” He stuttered, pointing a trembling finger directly at my face. He looked at me as if he were staring at a literal ghost risen from the grave.
“You what, Mason?” I asked, tilting my head, the mocking smile on my lips entirely on display.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he hissed, his eyes darting around the room in confusion.
“You mean... what am I doing in my company?”
“Cut the goddamn crap, Mira!” he yelled, taking a violent step toward my desk. He paused, his brain trying to rationalize the situation, before he suddenly burst into a loud, incredibly condescending laugh. “Oh. Oh, I get it now. You must have slept your way straight to the top of this building. No wonder you wanted nothing from our divorce settlement! You found some pathetic, rich old billionaire to lay under. That’s why you refused to come crawling back to me begging, isn’t it? You’re just a high-class escort now.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Lina snapped, stepping between him and my desk, physically pushing him back. “How dare you be so violently rude to the chairwoman of this conglomerate!”
“Chairwoman, my ass!” Mason roared, violently shoving Lina aside with a sweep of his arm.
The smile instantly vanished from my face. I stood up, the legs of my leather chair scraping sharply against the marble floor as I slammed both palms flat onto the desk. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent room.
“A piece of trash will always be nothing but trash, Mason.”
I knew exactly why he was standing in my office today. I had been tracking his company’s numbers. Sterling Enterprises was on the brink of total bankruptcy, and he had come to the Hawthorne Group on his hands and knees to secure a massive distribution contract just to keep his crumbling empire afloat for another quarter. Yet, instead of focusing on the survival of his life’s work, his fragile masculine ego was busy hurling petty insults at me.
“How dare you call me trash!” Mason screamed, his eyes blazing with a dangerous, feral rage.
I didn’t flinch. I walked deliberately around the massive mahogany desk, stopping mere inches from where he stood panting. Before he could even register my movement, I brought my hand down across his face in a brutal, resounding slap.
Crack.
The force of the blow snapped his head to the side. Mason stumbled back a step, his hand instantly flying up to cup his rapidly reddening, stinging cheek. He stared at me in paralyzed shock.
Before he could utter another toxic word, I turned my back to him, looking directly at my assistant.
“Lina. Call security immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Within seconds, the heavy office doors flew open, and four massive, heavily armed corporate security guards marched into my office.
“Throw this garbage out of my building,” I ordered coldly, not giving him a single glance.
The guards didn’t hesitate. They lunged forward, grabbing Mason roughly by both of his upper arms, pinning his elbows behind his back, and dragging him backward toward the exit.
“Let go of me! Do you know who the fuck I am? Let go!” His undignified screams filled the entire executive floor, drawing the attention of every secretary and VP in the hallway. He thrashed against the guards’ grip, his eyes locked onto mine in a mixture of horror and realization. “I can’t believe it... I can’t fucking believe you’re the Hawthorne chairwoman!”
I stood tall at the glass window, looking down at him as the guards dragged him out the door.
“I didn’t ask you to believe it, Mason,” I said, my voice dropping into an arctic, unyielding whisper that cut right through his shouting. “But I want you to know that everything happening in your life right now? It’s just the beginning. I am going to personally ensure that you end up begging for scraps on the street.”