Chapter 53 Chapter 53 Apologies
It’s been a week, and he hasn’t called or texted.
The silence is unbearable.
Gemma has forbidden me from reaching out to him. Says I shouldn’t have to apologize for dancing. It was just dancing—even if it was sexual. He could have said no. I would have stayed right there on his lap all night if he asked.
My girls are shocked I held out this long. Even more shocked that I told Mason I loved him.
I don’t do that.
Okay… I do. I fall fast. I know I do.
I love Ivan—still. Deeply. But even after everything he said, everything he made me feel, he didn’t want a relationship. I still have feelings for Sergey too, even after he broke my heart.
And now Mason.
This silence… I gave him my heart, and he cracked it.
A week.
It’s been a whole fucking week.
Are we done?
A single tear slips down my cheek.
My elbow rests on the white tablecloth, chin in my palm as I stare out the window. The sky is overcast, gray and heavy. It matches exactly how I feel—hurt, lonely, stupid.
I made myself look like a fool over a guy.
Behind me, I can hear Gemma, Tish, and Erika talking nonstop—planning spring break even though it’s still three months away. They just finished arguing about Christmas and New Year’s.
Gemma’s “cabin” again for Christmas. Movies, hot cocoa, pretending we’re wholesome.
For New Year’s, they want to stay at my place. I have the perfect view of the Strip. My apartment faces south—his building faces east.
I can literally see where he lives.
We spent the morning playing tennis at the club. It sprinkled a little. I keep hoping it’ll turn into full rain—something dramatic to match my mood.
There’s a slice of cake sitting in front of me.
Untouched.
I take a slow sip of my mimosa, still staring out the window, drowning in my own thoughts.
Then Gemma starts talking about the night again.
The party.
The orgy.
Her, Colt, Erika, Kyle, Tish, Marcus, Nick… and some random girl.
I spent that same night outside by the pool, staring at the city and crying like an idiot.
They don’t know that part.
Even I have limits on what I share.
"Are you even listening?" Gemma snaps. "We had a blast. I don’t get why you’re so hung up on him."
I just nod, not even turning toward her.
For a second, I think I smell his cologne.
Faint.
Familiar.
My chest tightens, but I don’t move.
Then it gets stronger.
I turn.
He’s here.
Standing behind us with his crew—Matthews, Olivery, Brown.
Polo. Tight khakis. Calm, controlled.
My heart stutters.
They don’t sit. They move forward toward our table.
Watching.
"Why are you hung up on thirty-second nut anyway?" Gemma continues, completely unaware. "Because he’s a dumb, jealous asshole? Or because he didn’t sleep with you even though you probably invited him up multiple times?"
Matthews bites back a grin. Brown is practically choking trying not to laugh.
Tish and Erika stay silent, letting Gemma dig her own grave.
"Alek called," she keeps going. "I’m inviting him for Christmas."
I roll my eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, roll those baby blues. I remember someone saying in front of the mafia prince that Alek was such an amazing fuck you’d move to Russia for him." She shrugs. "Why not just date Nick? What’s the point of having him as a friend with benefits if you’re holding out for Mason?"
I look up.
Mason is staring right at me.
Heat floods my neck, creeping into my cheeks.
"You know what?" Gemma adds. "I hope Sergey beats his ass again. That’s the only reason I’d watch that boxing garbage."
"If he studied Sergey’s fights, Mason won’t lose. Sergey is predictable," I say quietly, my eyes still locked on his. "Did you watch them, Mason?"
Gemma finally realizes.
She flushes bright pink but doesn’t turn around.
"Hey, asshole!!!" she snaps.
"Can we talk?" Mason says, low.
I can’t breathe.
The room feels too small, too loud.
"Nope," I reply, already walking toward the bathroom.
I hear him behind me.
Of course he follows.
I push into the ladies’ room, but he doesn’t stop. He comes in right after me and locks the door.
Before I can react, his hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me back.
He lifts me onto the counter, stepping between my legs, caging me in with his arms.
For the first time, I don’t know what he’s going to do.
And that scares me.
He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine, letting out a long breath.
"I’m sorry," he says quietly. "I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry I got so jealous I wanted to hit him. I’m sorry for being a complete asshole."
His gaze drops between us.
"I forgive you," I whisper.
He looks up, something shifting in his eyes.
Then he kisses me.
Soft at first, then deeper.
His hands slide to my hips, gripping, pulling me closer. His fingers slip under my skirt, tugging my tights down.
My breath catches.
"Mason—no, I’ve been playing tennis all morning—"
He doesn’t stop.
He drops to his knees.
And then his mouth is on me.
I gasp, my hands gripping the edge of the counter as his tongue moves, slow at first, then harder, deeper. He pulls me closer, dragging me toward him, devouring me like he’s been starving for it.
His fingers slide inside me, pumping, curling, hitting everything at once.
"Mason—" I try, but it turns into a moan.
My body reacts instantly—heat flooding, tension snapping tight. Every movement sends sparks through me, building faster than I can handle.
I try to stay quiet. I fail.
My back arches, my grip tightening in his hair as I push him closer.
I can’t think.
Can’t breathe.
Only feel.
The pressure builds, overwhelming, unstoppable.
"Mason!!!" I cry out as it breaks, my body shaking, collapsing into the release. "Fuck!!!"
Everything melts.
He slows, then finally pulls back, looking up at me.
"You taste amazing," he murmurs.
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine again, letting me taste everything he just did to me.
My head spins.
He stands, pulling my tights back up like nothing just happened, steadying me as I slide off the counter.
"Come over," he says softly. "Stay the night."
He takes my hand, placing something into it.
A key.
A key card.
He closes my fingers around them.
"I love you," he whispers.