Resolution (Mason Family 5)

Because she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Not if she’s the intelligent woman I know she is.

“All done,” Bellamy says.

I turn around to see Bellamy and Coy walking in the kitchen. They are on top of the world.

“She. Is. Amazing,” Bellamy says. “I had no intentions of getting my picture taken today, but she convinced me, and … I’m so glad I did it.”

Coy kisses Bellamy’s hand.

“She’s wonderful, Wade,” Bellamy coos.

I take a drink as a response.

“Jaxi, let’s get everything to the table,” Mom says. “Coy, grab those charcuterie boards, please.”

Everyone files out except for Jaxi and me.

“Where is Dara?” I ask.

“In the bathroom, I think.” Bellamy takes a pickle spear off a plate and chomps on the end. “You got a good one, Wade.”

“Thanks.”

She moseys out of the room, nearly running into Oliver on his way in.

“I just got the call of a fucking lifetime,” Oliver says, smacking me on the shoulder. “Bowery just called about a job in Mexico.”

I look up as Dara enters the room. Her smile wobbles as she hears the word Mexico, and I wonder if her grandfather mentioned the project to her like he did me.

“This is going to change everything for us, Wade. Everything.” Oliver looks over his shoulder. “Dara, your grandfather is my favorite person today.”

Dara tries to look happy, but I see the truth in her eyes. It’s a glimmer of fear, of concern. Of uncertainty.

“Come here,” I say, motioning for her to move closer.

She stands next to me. I put my arm around her back and hold her close.

“Grandfather is something else, all right.” She looks into my eyes. “He wants me to come over tonight for dinner. His assistant just called.”

Her attempt to slide in that last piece of information isn’t missed by me. I study her face and see the hesitation brimming at the surface.

And the pain.

His fucking assistant invited her to dinner? What the fuck? What a fucking asshole.

But I don’t say that. I don’t want to make it worse for her. She won’t like going, but as she’s said before, she wants to know her grandfather. I can’t blame her for wanting to get to know her blood family, even if the thought of them sits like a rock in my gut. She can do that easier alone. I get it. I hate it, but it’s logical.

“I’ll go with you,” I say without thinking it over first.

The fuck? Why the hell did I offer that?

“You don’t have to do that,” she says.

I look up to where Oliver was standing, only to realize he’s gone.

My hands ball into fists as I try to work my way through this conundrum. How do I justify my presence when it’s not wanted, and I’ll probably be a hindrance to the point of it all.

Shit.

“You don’t have to go alone,” I say. “You shouldn’t. Not when … not when you look like that when you’re talking about him.”

“It’s fine.”

It’s not.

I brush a strand of hair out of her pretty face. “Let me run interference. If something goes wrong, I can say I had a call, and we can go. I’ll be your out.”

She holds her breath and studies me. It takes longer than I would like, but eventually, the confident woman who has my heart—whether I like it or not—comes back.

She lifts her chin. “I appreciate that more than I can tell you, but I need to do this alone. I need a relationship with him that’s solely mine. I don’t even know this man, really.”

I want to argue. I want to tell her that’s even more reason for me to go with her. But I can see this is important to her and … fuck.

Dara raises on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s chaste and simple. Meanwhile, she slips her hand into my pocket.

“I’m going alone,” she says, pulling away. “But I’ll come see you after, if you want.”

She gives me a wink and disappears from the kitchen without another word.

What the fuck?

I put my hand in my pocket as I head toward the chaos in the dining room.

Then I pull out my hand and stop.

A pair of black lace panties are in my hand.

My cock hardens immediately as I look at the doorway.

That little vixen.

I grin, sliding them back where I got them and take off to find her.

THIRTY-SIX

DARA

This isn’t awkward at all.

I turn away from my family and look out the window. I don’t want them to see my eyes roll at the fact that even my internal sarcasm is dripping with sarcasm.

The view outside my grandfather’s dining room window is fabulous. I’ve never been to Europe, and I definitely haven’t personally seen the gardens surrounding the royal castles there, but in my mind, this is pretty freaking close.

Hedges in tidy rows separate perfect squares of green. Even the trees look hundreds of years old and like they were planted exactly where they needed to be to play a role in the landscape.