Part 16 (2/2)
”If taking the easy way out was an option.” Mayson turned that carnal stare back on Paige. ”I've never bought my way out of anything, Paige. Including relations.h.i.+ps.” She gave a quick chuckle. ”Besides, in what other profession could I be nicknamed the wind G.o.ddess? Pretty cool, huh?”
Paige looked away as heat flicked against her skin. She was beginning to see how wrong she'd been about Mayson. How she'd judged her without knowing a d.a.m.n thing about her. She didn't like being wrong.
Nor did she want to talk about relations.h.i.+ps. ”What was your major?”
”Promise not to laugh?”
”No. I never make a promise I'm not positive I can keep.”
Mayson took in a calming breath. ”I had a double major. Obviously, engineering, after the offer for my prototype came through. But it originated as...early childhood development.”
Shocked, Paige giggled. ”The big bad Mayson Montgomery was going to be a teacher?”
”Yes, ma'am.”
”Holy s.h.i.+t. I've heard it all.” Paige shook her head.
Mayson took a swig of beer. ”I could be tortured daily by a gaggle of six-year-olds. But bigger, more important things got in the way.”
”Yeah. Like a billion dollars.”
Mayson swung around to face Paige. ”Does money bother you that much?”
Paige felt ashamed under that scrutinizing glare. Did money really bother her? No, she rather liked having it. It was people like Mayson, who disrespected those without it, that bothered her.
Although the more they talked, the more those beliefs faltered. Paige simply shrugged and looked out over the ocean.
Mayson must have decided she didn't want the answer. For once, she didn't push the point. ”How long do you plan on dancing before you hang up your stilettos?”
Paige had never been asked that question. But she'd thought about it. Sooner or later, age would catch up with her. As much as she loved dancing, as free as it made her feel, it couldn't be a lifetime commitment. Sooner rather than later, as Mayson put it, she'd have to hang up the dancing shoes. Lately, she seemed more involved with the charity than she did dancing. Had her pa.s.sion s.h.i.+fted without knowing?
”Never really thought about it,” Paige lied. Now that Mayson had brought it up, it was all she could think about. She loved her charity, adored helping others, especially those d.a.m.n kids.
”Have dinner with me tomorrow, Paige. My place. I can show you one of my few talents.”
Tomorrow? s.h.i.+t. She had a date. With Vinden. At a lingerie shop. It dawned on Paige how little she'd thought about her tonight, even when there would be incredible s.e.x involved.
”Sorry. I have a date.” Paige emphasized the date part, making sure Mayson heard her loud and clear, though she didn't know why. Maybe because she'd just confessed dates were pathetic? ”Besides, you have armed guards.”
Mayson leaned toward her and fingered the candy necklace that was already leaving a sticky mess against Paige's neck. ”The next day, then? I'll let you in. Promise.”
She leaned up and tugged the backpack to her lap. After fis.h.i.+ng for what felt like hours, she pulled a box from within and held it out to Paige. ”I promised you a gift.”
Paige slowly took the box, which was wrapped exactly as she would expect a gift from a billionaire to be. s.h.i.+ny silver paper in dark paisley design was encased in an elegant matching bow. No doubt she'd had it wrapped by professionals at whatever shop this so-called present came from.
She had no idea why the paper or the bow rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe because it screamed wealth. So unlike the trinkets Vinden had been leaving her. Simple, romantic, well-thought out. G.o.d, she shouldn't be here. She could be snuggled in her bed with Vinden's voice snuggled to her ear, commanding her to f.u.c.k herself. That's exactly where she wanted to be. There. With Vinden's voice stroking her to o.r.g.a.s.ms. Not here with a gift Mayson's secretary probably picked up on one of her errands.
Paige was too curious not to pull the bow. She couldn't look at Mayson while she tore the wrapper off. Her breath caught and hung in her chest as she pushed the top off.
Her diary.
She hadn't seen it since the day Mayson shoved her into the fountain. It hadn't mattered. The words, her prayers and pleading to G.o.d were useless. Mayson had made sure of that.
Mayson moved and Paige snapped her gaze up, aware of the hot tears stinging her eyes.
”I've never read a single word. I swear.”
Paige swallowed, willing the d.a.m.n tears back into refuge, and lost the battle. A tear fell over the brink.
Mayson reached out and smoothed the tear across her cheek. ”I'm sorry, Paige. For what I did. I was a coward and there is no other excuse. Please forgive me?”
Paige looked away, down into the box where her memories lay, where every personal thought was handwritten by a scared and lonely child, and thought of her grandmother. She owed everything to her.
With a nod, Paige pulled the lid back in place. She didn't know what to say. What to do. What she did know was she was well aware of Mayson's heat beside her. Of the need nestling between her thighs with the simple gesture of wiping a tear away. It showed compa.s.sion. It showed her heart. But more, it showed she meant what she said.
It was time to let go of her immature hatred. Once and for all.
”I forgive you, Mayson. Thank you. So much.”
”So, about dinner?” Mayson pleaded with a s.e.xy upward glance.
Paige's mind was screaming to say h.e.l.l no, that she wasn't a toy, nor could she be bought, no matter how much of a gentlemen Mayson had been tonight. Fact remained that she was incredibly rich. What ever could they have in common?
Paige could hear the words ”h.e.l.l no” echoing in her mind as her mouth opened. ”Yes.”
Dumba.s.s! Dumba.s.s! Dumba.s.s!
Chapter Twelve.
Mayson soaped her body; every touch of fingers on skin heightened the antic.i.p.ation of her masked night with Paige and sent adrenaline surging through her veins. Tonight, she would take Paige to another rung in the game.
The strident emergency ringtone cut across pleasant thoughts of masks and seduction. d.a.m.n! She stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her body, and grabbed for the cell phone. ”Yes?”
”You watching the Weather Channel?” Eric asked, his rushed voice telling her all she needed to know. The tropical storm had grown.
”s.h.i.+t. Has it been upgraded?” Mayson padded into the bedroom, plucked the remote off the nightstand, and cut on the TV.
Eric continued. ”She's now a Category One, expected to increase in size and strength by midday tomorrow. They're talking like she could possibly be as big as Five if the jet stream has any luck with her. This b.i.t.c.h is angry, Mayson. If she keeps her projected path, she'll be a direct hit on Kingston. Two days. Tops.”
”c.r.a.p! They can't handle anything that size.” Mayson sat on the end of the bed and watched the circular motion of Hurricane Elena on the screen. She was carrying quite a punch with a beautiful detailed eye. It would level everything on the coast of Jamaica if it continued to grow and hit land.
Eric sighed. ”Looks like we need to get ready for another adventure, boss. You might want to wrap up your extracurricular activities.”
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