“Are we agreed, then?” Baylor asks.
I sigh, then turn to look at Lyssa. Turn back to Baylor and nod. “Fine. It’s a deal. What exactly do you expect me to do with Lyssa?”
“Force her to stop all this lying, and slutting around, and drug use. Make her into the wife Dickerson Worthington thinks he’s getting. I might be untouchable, Mason. But you’re not. Your mother isn’t. And my daughter isn’t either.”
Then he smiles at me in a way that sends a chill up my spine. “So go ahead. Do whatever you want. Touch her all you need to. Just be sure to break her by the time you’re done.”
CHAPTER TEN – LYSSA
Neither of them say anything to me as they walk back to the stairs and descend. Something has been said. Some deal has been struck. That’s all I can figure. I sit on the top step and watch them go into my stepfather’s office and close the door. Close the deal too, I suppose.
About thirty minutes later, the doors open again and my stepfather walks out. He looks up at me and smiles. “Goodbye, Lyssa. See you in ten days. The event planners will arrive and begin setting up for the wedding. Your dress is in your room. Please try it on and decide if you think it needs any alterations. Then have Mason call me and let me know.” He smiles wider, which just makes me want to puke. “You’re going to look lovely.”
Then he unlocks the front door, leaves, and locks it back up behind him.
“Well.” I sigh. “I guess that’s it.”
When I glance back at the office, Mason is standing in the doorway. Arms folded across his chest.
“So you’re in charge of me now,” I say.
“Looks that way,” he says.
I take in a deep breath and let it out. “Now what?”
He laughs a little. “Well… I’m not really sure, wild thing. What do you usually do with your days?”
“Sleep off a hangover.”
That makes him laugh louder. “OK. Well. Do you have a hangover? Do you need to sleep?”
I think about this. Since I was out drinking last night and he did drug me. But I say, “No. Not really tired anymore.”
“Well, your old man left me a boatload of cash to go shopping. You wanna go shopping?”
“Shopping?” I say.
“I didn’t bring any clothes,” he says, his voice deep and rumbling. Like he’s the one who’s tired and need a day off to sleep. “And I’m not allowed to go back to the city to get some. But there’s a mall about forty minutes away. So…” He shrugs. “How about it? Wanna blow this place?”
For a second I feel like he’s asking me to run away with him.
My body responds before I can stop it.
My heart beats faster with excitement.
But then he holds up something in his hand and says, “But you gotta wear this.”
I squint at it. “What is it?”
“It’s a tracking bracelet.” He pulls out his phone and says, “I’ve got an app now that lets me know where you are at all times.”
“Wonderful.” I sigh. The possibility of running away with him evaporates. “I don’t really give a fuck what we do.”
“Language,” he says. Same low, growly voice.
“You don’t like my fucking language?” I ask.
“Don’t,” he warns me.
“Or what?” I ask. “You’ll promise to spank me and then not fucking do it?”
Even from all the way up here I can see him raise his eyebrows. “Are you complaining about last night?”
I look down to hide my smile, then get it under control and look up again. “Not really. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“You did fucking promise.”
“Lyssa,” he snaps. “I’m not kidding about the language. Your stepfather wants you to behave. And he’s gonna pay me a lot of money and a pretty big favor to tame you into something presentable for your wedding. So if you think I’m not going to complete that job—if you think this is gonna be just ten days of flirting and fun—then you’re sadly mistaken. So stop saying ‘fuck,’ or ‘shit,’ or any other cuss word that’s not appropriate for a lady of your position and rank, and be good.”
“A lady of my position?” I scoff.
“You are the daughter of one of the world’s richest men, Lyssa. Why can’t you just be thankful and gracious about that?”
“Thankful and gracious?” I scoff again. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
He tilts his head at me. “Come here.”
“No,” I say. “If you want me, catch me.”
“No,” he says. “I’m not gonna chase you. You’re gonna chase me.”
“Really?” I laugh.
“Yeah, really. Now get down here.”
“And what if I don’t? Hmmmm? What then?”
“Then… then I leave. I leave, lock you in, and go shopping. Maybe I’ll come back tonight. Maybe I’ll come back in a week. Hell, he’s already promised to wire me my money first thing in the morning. So maybe I just walk away from you and your stepfather and say, ‘Fuck it. I’m done.’”