Chapter 139
Mason's POV
Three minutes earlier, I'd been standing outside Emily's office, sorting through a stack of files, when I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned and saw Alex walking toward me, his shirt slightly rumpled, his tie loosened. He had his suit jacket draped over one arm, and he looked like he'd just walked out of a meeting—or something else.
He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.
"Take this to the dry cleaner," he said casually, holding out the jacket. "There's one two blocks down. They know my account."
I stared at him, my jaw tightening. "I'm not your assistant."
"No," he agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant. "But this is my branch. I'm the president. Emily's the general manager. And even she reports to me. So when I ask you to do something, you do it."
I glanced over at Sarah, one of the other analysts sitting nearby. She looked uncomfortable, but she nodded slightly when I caught her eye.
Fuck.
I took the jacket from him, my fingers clenching around the fabric.
"Oh," Alex said, his voice dropping lower, almost amused. "Make sure you check the pockets before you hand it over. Wouldn't want them to find anything... unexpected."
He walked away before I could respond, heading toward the elevator with his hands in his pockets, whistling softly.
I stood there for a second, my heart pounding, and then I reached into the jacket pocket.
My fingers closed around something soft. Fabric.
I pulled it out.
A pair of women's underwear. Black lace. Still slightly damp.
For a second, I couldn't breathe. My vision tunneled, my chest tightening so hard it felt like my ribs were going to crack.
That fucking bastard.
But the anger wasn't for me. It wasn't about him humiliating me or showing me up or proving he had more power.
It was for Emily.
He'd broken up with her. He'd left her crying so hard she could barely stand. And now he was back, acting like nothing had happened, walking into her office and fucking her like it was his right, like she was his property, like the only reason he was doing it was to remind me that I didn't matter.
I wanted to go after him. I wanted to drag him back here and slam him against the wall and make him explain what the hell he thought he was doing. I wanted to hit him so hard he'd remember it every time he looked in a mirror.
But more than that, I wanted to see if Emily was okay.
I shoved the underwear back into the pocket and walked straight to her door. My hand was shaking when I reached for the handle.
Emily looked up from her desk, and I saw it immediately. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her hair a little messier than it had been this morning. But there was something else in her expression—something tight and frustrated, maybe even angry.
She looked at me, surprised. "Mason? What's up?"
I stood there for a second, trying to find the words, trying to figure out what to say, how to ask without making it worse.
My throat felt like it was closing. My face was burning. I could feel the fabric in my hand, still warm, still damp, and I hated that I was holding it, hated that Alex had made me the messenger for whatever sick game he was playing.
Finally, I forced the words out, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
"Are you not wearing underwear right now?"
Emily's POV
My blood went cold. "Excuse me?"
He looked down at the floor, his jaw working. "Alex stopped me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "When he was leaving. He told me to take his jacket to the dry cleaners."
He pulled a small bundle of fabric out of his pocket and held it up.
My underwear.
I stared at it, my face burning, my stomach twisting into knots.
That fucking asshole. Alex had done this on purpose. He'd handed Mason my underwear like it was nothing, like it was a casual errand, knowing exactly what it would do. Knowing Mason would put the pieces together. Knowing it would humiliate me and destabilize Mason and force this exact conversation.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to call Alex right now and tell him to go to hell.
But I couldn't. Because Mason was standing in front of me, holding the evidence of what Alex had done, looking like he was about to fall apart.
I took a breath and forced my voice to stay calm. "So you know."
He nodded, his eyes still on the floor.
"What do you think about it?" I asked carefully.
He was quiet for a moment, and I realized something. I'd never actually explained any of this to him. Not the full picture. He'd seen Ethan on the video call that night, watching us, and he hadn't flinched. He'd just accepted it, like it was the most natural thing in the world for someone else to be there, to witness what we were doing.
But that was Ethan. And Ethan had been... safe.
Alex was different. Alex had been here, in this building, and then he'd left. And Mason knew—he had to know—that Alex and I had history. That Alex didn't like him. That Alex saw him as a threat or an inconvenience or worse.
Was Mason going to walk away now? Was this the moment he decided it wasn't worth it?
"Mason," I said quietly. "Talk to me. What are you thinking?"
Mason's eyes were glassy when he looked up at me, his lashes wet, his bottom lip trembling just slightly. "I won’t ask for anything. I won’t be jealous. I just need to know you still want me. I'm scared if you have Alex, you won't want me anymore."
His voice cracked on the last word, and something in my chest twisted so hard it hurt. He looked so young standing there, so vulnerable, like a kid who'd been told he wasn't good enough and was still trying to prove he could be. His shoulders were hunched, his hands clenched at his sides, and I could see him fighting to keep himself together.
God, he's breaking my heart.