Ex Games

I groaned, hating the fact that Mason had a point. Glaring out the window at the view of the Chrysler building, I avoided his eye, loathing the fact that I had to relive my failed relationship for him. “I don’t know, Mason. As far as I know, I was a decent girlfriend. I gave Aaron massages every night. We had sex at least four times a week and I’ve done everything from put on a corset and garters for him to let him tie me to the bed,” I said, my cheeks hot. They grew even hotter when I looked up to find Mason’s eyebrows lifted in unfiltered surprise at me. Blushing fiercely, I managed to roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know you have me in your head as this prudish little good girl, but I can confidently say I didn’t leave Aaron wanting for much in bed. If anything, he just wished I’d let him show me off more and act more flirty and sexual with him in public.”

“But you’re more on the conservative side,” Mason deduced.

“Actually, no,” I said defensively. “I’m not Miss Prim and Proper, I just liked being privately sexy with my boyfriend, as in I like sending nude photos and teasing him at home and trying different things in bed. What I didn’t like, however, was encouraging Aaron’s need to show off and swing his dick around like an idiot. I’m not sure if you noticed, but growing up with you gave him an unhealthy ne

ed to show the world that he had nice things too and as his girlfriend, it was kind of exhausting. It turned me off getting too dolled up and wearing tight, sexy dresses and getting him all the attention he so desperately craved because I didn’t want him to put so much worth in the superficial.”

Breathless, I finished my speech to find Mason wetting his smirking lips in a way that made me press my knees together. “In short, you didn’t want him to try to be like me,” he said.

“Precisely. I wanted him to be nothing like you. And you’re laughing because?”

“Because this works perfectly for our purposes and you’re too busy being pissed at me to realize it,” Mason replied with amusement. “We’re trying to get Aaron jealous and you’re telling me he used to wish for you to wear little dresses and show PDA so he could compete with my dating life. So basically, to get at Aaron’s biggest insecurities, we just need to buy you a new wardrobe and you just need to muster up the courage to let me touch you at some point.”

I chewed my lip, realizing that again, Mason had a point. Aaron had already grown up furiously jealous of Mason. Seeing Mason show me off and nuzzle me in public would probably drive him mentally insane. And as much as instinct told me to hurt for Aaron and protect him, I found myself wanting to do this. I wanted to get closure and answers from him, yes, but I also wanted badly to make him feel at least a shred of what I felt. I just needed to reconcile the fact that I couldn’t do it without cozying up to his asshole brother.

“Sound like a plan?” Mason asked. “We’ll set up an appointment for your fitting tomorrow.”

I tried not to look too excited by the prospect of brand new clothes. “I’ll be free.”

“Good. In the meantime, we may need to practice some public displays of affection.”

I stared. “What is this, middle school and we’re going to practice making out?”

There was laughter in Mason’s eyes as he studied my reluctance. “Not quite but the reality is that at some point, my lips are going to have to touch yours.”

“Is that an absolute necessity?” I asked weakly, involuntarily gazing at Mason’s curving mouth.

“Considering you used to kiss Aaron in public, I’d say yes. But since you look physically nauseous at the idea right now, I’ll let you take it a step a time.” Mason walked me to the door. “I’m sure the monotony of dating my brother for three years has wiped out any memory of how to flirt or look remotely sensual, so I’ll give you some time to recover from that.”

“If this is your attempt at reverse psychology, it’s not working.”

Mason laughed. “No? What if I challenged the idea that you even remembered how to look content? How to mimic the mannerisms and speech patterns of someone in a passionate and loving relationships?”

“I’d say you have nothing to worry about, boyfriend.”

“‘Boyfriend.’ Great pet name. I’d prefer ‘babe’ or even ‘honey’ over it, but work at your own pace. We’ll get you there,” Mason smirked as he opened the door. But his thick brows furrowed as I pulled my coat back on. “Christ. Leave it off for now.”

“Excuse me?”

“At least let me watch you walk away without that hideous thing on,” Mason said, picking a feather out of the sleeve and then letting his gaze dip briefly down the front of my V-neck. I stood frozen for a moment but then he cracked a half smile. “Basic flirting. Try it on me next time.”

I snorted. “Screw you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Taylor.”

“Dying with excitement here.”

And with that romantic exchange, we parted ways.

Chapter Five

The first official act of our staged romance started the next day at the Margot Vivier showroom on Madison Avenue. Mason had texted me to meet him but was MIA by the time I arrived, giving me plenty of time to stand there awkwardly and confirm that this was in fact the kind of place I’d never explore on my own. It was almost uncomfortably immaculate with its runway lighting and perfectly spaced racks of insanely expensive-looking dresses. Though I liked to think of myself as mostly confident, I found myself feeling quickly out of my league.

But just as I contemplated backing slowly out of the store, a willowy salesgirl fluttered forward to greet me by name, whisking me into the back and chatting warmly about all the “stunning” pieces “Mr. Leo” already picked for me before flitting around me like a hummingbird, wrapping my bust, waist and hips with her thin, white measuring tape. Jotting the numbers into a leather booklet, she then poured a glass of champagne and handed it to me with a dazzling smile, leaving me half-stunned, half-delighted as I sipped on Veuve and browsed their selection of summer dresses – all of them plucked out specifically for me.

I was about a half hour into my tipsy shopping when Mason’s text buzzed in my phone.

Not sure I’ll make it. Work. But feel free to go crazy. Everything will be charged to my account.