Ex Games Page 2

  Mason never pressed charges, and last I checked the clip was nearing twenty million views.

  “Yeah.” He pressed his mouth into a hard line, but I could see the laughter dancing behind his blue eyes. “So, my guess here is that Eva’s trying to get back at me now by marrying my brother – which sounds crazy to a normal person like you, but to someone who’s dated her, it’s just another day of the week.”

  I was speechless, staring through tears at Mason in my miniscule kitchen. So it was real. Really happening. True love or not, Aaron had left me for a billionaire’s daughter and not only that they’d be wed in a matter of weeks. It was humiliating and to make things worse on me, my brain was repeating that pesky mantra that had been haunting the past two perfect years with Aaron. You should have let it end when you had the chance. You could have avoided all this pain.

  “Fuck,” I breathed out hard, feeling worse now than I did on the day that he left me because on top of being heartbroken, I was livid. I never wanted to look at Aaron ever again, and at the same time, I was desperate to see him. I needed to ask a million questions to his face but most of all, I needed to know when his heart had grown so cold. When he had found the bravery to leave the woman he’d been to hell and back with – the woman he said he couldn’t wait to have children with.

  Lastly, I wanted to know if he thought about how I’d be alone in bed every night, crying myself to sleep while he spent his evenings with Eva at the Tully estate in Silicon Valley, popping bottles of champagne three times the price of our rent.

  The rent that was now solely mine to pay.

  Double fuck.

  And just like that, I burst into tears. Damn it, Taylor, I cursed myself because the only thing I hated more than feeling this emotionally out of control was Mason Leo, so ugly crying in front of him was most definitely a worst-case scenario on this lovely Wednesday morning. It didn’t help that as I cried, his expression refused to move let alone twitch with even an ounce of sympathy. A pathetic hiccup escaped my lips as Mason glanced at his cell phone.

  “When you’re done, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  I swallowed and stared in disbelief. “You are so remarkably insensitive,” I breathed.

  “I can’t imagine that’s new information for you.”

  “It’s not, yet I keep letting you surprise me.”

  “We Leo boys are full of surprises then, aren’t we?”

  Fire lit my eyes as I burst from my chair. “Okay. You have to go now.” I tried to grip his arms, but my fingers failed to wrap around even half their muscle. Goddamnit, Mase. I knew he was smirking as he watched me struggle to remove him from my kitchen and apartment. When I finally got him to the door, he stopped to face me.

  “I want you to come with me to that wedding, Taylor.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “If I am, it benefits you.”

  “How?”

  “Come with me and I’ll make your debt disappear.”

  “Like I said, you’re out of your fucking mind,” I hissed, going for the door. But with a hard step forward Mason backed me up against it. My breath hitched in my throat as he hovered just over me, a dark look clouding over his face.

  “Listen to me, Taylor,” he said, his voice steely. “I can’t let this marriage happen, and neither can you. Do you want Aaron to marry that woman? Do you want to turn on the TV next year and hear all about the two mil they dropped on a fucking baby shower? This is the kind of mistake that lasts forever.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then goddamnit, come with me.”

  “No.”

  He growled. “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Well now that you explained it.”

  My lip curled. “Because you only want me there to lure him away from your ex, Mason.”

  “And if that were the case?”

  “Then that’s fucked up.” I tried to writhe away from Mason but in a second flat, his hands were on the door, his frame caging me in.

  “How so?”

  “You figure it out.”

  “I’d prefer that tongue of yours enlighten me.”

  Chest heaving, I stared up into his eyes, trying to find the words I knew he doubted I had in me. Wetting my lips, I finally regained composure. “You’re counting on me being weak, Mason,” I whispered, my voice shaky but knife-sharp. “Aaron disappeared on me after three years without telling me why. He let me find out on my own that he was getting married to another woman, and on top of all that, he left me with a hell of a financial mess to deal with alone. So if you’re hoping for me to run back to him, then you’re basically banking on me to have a catastrophic lapse in judgment. You’re hoping I am so dumb I might still try to pursue a life with a man who ruined mine without thinking twice, well, sorry to break it to you, but I have a little more respect for myself that that.” I blew blonde locks from the eyes that burned so fiercely into his that he took a step back. “Enlightened yet?”

  Mason blinked, stunned for half a second. But lifting his eyebrows, he recovered. “I’m definitely something,” he said. I shook my head and turned around so I didn’t have to watch him adjust his package.

  “You’re also leaving now,” I muttered, unlocking the door and ignoring the heat of Mason’s body on my back. My heart beat faster when I felt him graze against my backside before sliding my hand off the knob to grab it himself.

  “Alright,“ he conceded with a sudden ease. But in the hall, he held the door open for the last word. “Let me know when you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You will,” he said with a nonchalance that drove me insane. “Feel free to call me when you do. And don’t be shy. Any time of the night works for me.”

  My cheeks flushed red and I tried to retort, but with a dirty little wink, Mason was gone.

  Chapter Three

  I dragged my feet out of the empty break room with its fluorescent lights and broken vending machine. It was no paradise, but I still wished I could stay there instead of return to my dead Friday night shift, or my remarkably unpleasant coworkers. It’d been awhile since I’d dealt with cliques, but at McFadden’s Ale House, there was a clique, and it hated me. Loathed me, really, because as I’d come to learn, they didn’t take kindly to new meat at Faddy Ales. New meat meant a crowded tip pool, and a crowded tip pool meant less money for all.

  Except me.

  Thanks to Aaron, I was there to make whatever cash I could get, so I endured the mean girls because on good nights, they at least ignored me. Of course, on bad ones, they nitpicked my every move, called me “bitch” to my face and hip-checked me at service bar. It sucked but money was money, so I swallowed my pride and reminded myself that I hadn’t come to make friends. In fact, McFadden’s had remained my dirty little secret since I was hired because by day, I was an event coordinator for the esteemed Vandermark Restaurants on Fifth Ave, so I really didn’t need anyone to know that by night, I was slinging lagers in a cropped sports jersey, Daisy Dukes and knee-high socks – at a bar known locally as “Shitty Hooters.”

  According to Yelp, the nickname derived from the wait staff’s attitude, which was described as “aggressively apathetic.” On a normal night, I couldn’t argue that. But tonight, my coworkers seemed oddly impassioned about providing service – at least to some table that had arrived during my break. The second I got back to my shift, I saw my fellow waitresses burst into the back station, clamoring over their queen, Brielle, and the alleged babe at her table twenty-eight.

  “I will literally give you fifty dollars if you let me serve him tonight, Bri.”

  “I’ll give you half my tips and cover your Sunday.”

  “I’ll give half my tips and cover your whole weekend!”

  Damn. In the doorway, I watched in awe because on any other night, these were three of the greediest and pettiest girls in the world. I’d seen them argue for two hours over a six-dollar tip, so it was like a sad breath of fresh
air to witness them offer everything short of their firstborn just to flirt with a guy. But their efforts were in vain because Brielle declared, “Sorry, sluts!” before yanking her shirt down, grabbing the water pitcher and glaring at me. “Out of my way? Thanks,” she muttered, still hip-checking me on her way to the floor.

  Awesome. Love this place, I snorted as I regained my footing and resisted the urge to follow my coworkers outside to watch. But my self-control lasted all of two seconds before I grabbed my tray and headed out to get myself a peek of Mr. Mystery Babe.

  I really shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw it was Mason.

  “How the hell?” I muttered under my breath as my coworkers glared at me for daring to stand near them.

  “Out of our way? Thanks.” Arms hooked, they waltzed to stand right in front of me and within seconds, they were bouncing on their toes and squealing because across the bar, Brielle was breaking the rules by sliding seductively into the booth with Mason.

  I bit my lip, shuffling aside for a better view of him. He was wearing the hell out of one of his usual suits – sleek, grey and fitted paired with a crisp white shirt underneath. Unlike a few days ago, his dark hair was neat and gently slicked back. He looked like the kind of rich and handsome that clearly didn’t belong in a place like Faddy Ales, and every woman in the room had taken notice. In fact, it felt like the entire place had stopped in its tracks to watch him, and I was hardly surprised because as always – the way Aaron hated – Mason commanded attention. It was precisely why my heart stopped when Brielle leaned into his whisper, biting back a big, flirty smile that slowly faded as her eyes lifted up to find me.

  Oh boy.

  And suddenly, Brielle sat up straight, rose to her feet and walked stiffly away from the table, directly blocking my view of Mason as she stomped with increasing fury at me. Dozens of stares flew in my direction as I stood there, just waiting to hear the words from my coworker that I could already predict.

  “He asked for you,” Brielle muttered, face red and lip curling as she stormed right past me. Stunned but hardly surprised, I stared across the room at Mason. I shook my head at his thoroughly arched eyebrows, our eyes locking only after he took his time drinking me in from head to toe. Goddamn this uniform, I thought for the millionth time as I forced myself to march over to Mason in long, hard strides. I was humiliated but refused to show it so when I finally reached him, I cocked my hip, held my tray up high and spoke before him.

  “Don’t.”

  He was already laughing. “What?”

  “Crack all the predictable jokes. I know you’re dying to, but let me do it for you. Yes, I work as a Faddy’s girl. Yes, I’m wearing a padded bra under a child-sized Eagles jersey and yes, my pants are ridiculously tight.”

  “No judgment here. My own are getting tighter as we speak.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right. So now that we’ve gotten the obligatory mention of your dick out of the way, can you please tell me how you even found me here?”

  “There was a McFadden’s paycheck on your kitchen counter,” Mason said, prompting my groan. “And I was actually going to spare you the jokes. I’m sure you get enough grade-A material from your sophisticated clientele.”

  I glanced at the tables of overgrown frat boys – mostly finance bros who wore too much Axe and called me “dollface.” “I do. Thanks.”

  “Of course. And since the reason isn’t exactly jumping out at me here, care to tell me why you’d rather work at this dump than come with me to the wedding?”

  “I’d rather work for a dump than a prick.”

  He studied the amusement on my face. “Charming. But you still essentially work for pricks when you’re serving guys who tip ten percent and slap your ass while you’re carrying a full tray.”

  I lifted my brows high. “The accuracy of that tells me you have personal experience with being a dick to waitresses.”

  “If observing Aaron at bars back in grad school counts as personal experience,” Mason replied, watching my face fall like a brick at the mention of Aaron. “On the topic of that idiot, I wanted to clarify something from our conversation on Wednesday.”

  I glanced around for anyone trying to flag me down, but I had zero tables. With reluctance, I turned back to Mason. “Go for it.”

  He gave a short, admittedly sexy laugh as he rubbed his jaw. “Look, I know you’re smarter than to run back to him, Taylor,” he said, his voice so low and genuine I found myself suddenly disarmed. “And if you want the truth, I think you deserve better than him. But as much as I can’t stand the kid, Aaron’s my brother. I can’t let him marry into crazy. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into, and I’m not going to waste your time trying to explain it. I’m just hoping you’ll realize that this plan would work in your favor too. Worst-case scenario, it falls through and he marries her. But you still get your shot at closure, and you still get to quit this place and wipe out all your debt at once. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

  I clenched my jaw. No. It didn’t sound bad. It sounded perfect and like everything I wanted and needed, but my body was still wired to resist. “No one would ever believe that you and I became a couple,” I pointed out.

  “No one would’ve ever believed that Aaron might marry Eva Tully, yet here we are,” Mason countered easily. “Nothing is ever as far-fetched as you think. We’ll just say I went to your house to tell you about the wedding. You were predictably distraught. I capitalized on your vulnerability and got you in bed.”

  My face contorted with disgust. “Ugh. That’s horrible.”

  “It didn’t actually happen, Taylor.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thank you. For the clarification.”

  “No problem. Now go ahead and ask me whatever other questions you have to delay your decision to say yes.” Mason kept his gaze pinned on me as he leaned back, loosening his skinny black tie. God, he was so arrogant I almost wanted to reject his offer and live in debt just to spite him.

  “You know, I have a real job besides this one,” I finally pointed out. “I assume you’ll be wanting to go to St. Lucia well before the wedding so you have time to change Aaron’s mind. But if you need me for more than a weekend, I won’t be able to get the time off.”

  “I’m sure you can. Ideally, I’d want you off for two weeks.”

  “Are you serious?” I burst out laughing. “I can’t get two weeks off, Mason. With barely any heads up and during high season? I’m not exaggerating when I say that’s impossible.”

  Mason’s chiseled features barely twitched in reaction. In fact, he looked bored with my reasoning as he turned his focus to adjusting his cufflinks. “It’s not impossible. Your company has been angling for years to get one of their bars into The Victorian Hotel. I’m the majority owner of The Victorian Hotel and my contract with the restaurant group running our rooftop lounge expires next year. If I guarantee that space to Vandermark and require you as my exclusive liaison, they’ll let you go on vacation for an entire month if you want.”

  I breathed out hard like his statement physically hit me in the chest. “You’re not honestly suggesting that you’ll use a multi-million dollar contract to bribe my company into granting me a two-week vacation.”

  His cufflinks straight, Mason returned his attention to me. “That was exactly what I was suggesting but I’d be happy to reword it if you’re having trouble understanding. I imagine working at Faddy Ales does a number on the brain cells.”

  I closed my eyes. “Oh my God. You are so incredibly annoying.”

  “I know. You just gotta learn to love it, babe. That’s how good relationships last.”

  Eyes open again, I stared at Mason, trying to figure out if he might actually be more infuriating than my toxic coworkers. But then right on cue, Brielle came by, hitting me first with a scowl and then her classic hip-check that sent me tripping with surprising force onto Mason’s table. The girl at the neighboring booth yelped, “Omigod!” as glasses toppled and I clenched my jaw.

&nbs
p; Oh. My God.

  I heard my coworkers’ ripping snorts behind me, and with my nose smashed in a puddle of ice water, I could actually feel my tolerance for bullshit quickly reaching capacity.

  “What just – ?”

  I brushed off Mason’s question before he could finish, wordlessly getting back on my feet and undoing my apron. Chucking it onto the table, I yanked out my ponytail, crossed my arms and locked eyes with Mason. “I won’t be just your dirty fling.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Come again?”

  “If I go to the wedding as your date, Mason, I’m going to be seen as your girlfriend, not another cheap fling whose sole purpose is to get on her knees and service you whenever you think you’re horny. If you can manage to act like you have that kind of respect for a woman, then you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Mason blinked. “Done. Any other issues?”

  “Minor concerns about how you’ll fake being a devoted boyfriend when you’ve never been one in real life.”

  “I imagine the same way you’ll fake being a girlfriend who isn’t completely vanilla and devoid of passion.”

  I glared. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Mason grinned. “Apparently that you can dish it but not take it.”

  Once again, I closed my eyes for a moment to breathe deep.

  “Alright, alright, truce,” he laughed. “Look, I know you hate me but let me just remind you that dealing with me for the next ten days will still be a hell of a lot easier than working at this shithole for at least another year. And if I ever say anything particularly annoying to you, just remember that giant fucking mountain of debt you’re erasing. Alright?”

  I swallowed. “Fine.”

  “Any last concerns?”

  I tore the cheesy nametag off my breast. “None for now. Ready to go?”

  Mason’s eyebrows shot up. “In the middle of your shift?”

  “I’ve decided to make it the end,” I said, water still dripping from the tip of my nose as I glanced behind at my coworkers. They were watching from service bar with smirks for what a huffy mess I looked like. From where they stood, my conversation with Mason looked like an embarrassing disaster – which technically, it was, but I was still eager to turn their smug looks into that of open-mouthed shock. Looking back to him, I crossed my arms. “It’s your first task as my boyfriend, Mase. Walk me out of here like the gentleman you aren’t and make yourself look convincingly like my loving boyfriend.”