Restraint (Mason Family 1)

I grin at Oliver as he shakes his head. “You’re right. It was the weather.”

“Of course, it was, dear. I shall ignore any strange credit card charges from the past couple of hours when your bill hits my desk.”

“That would be awfully kind of you, Rosie.”

Oliver butts in, going over a few things with her while I gaze out the window and try to quiet my head. Meeting with Graham Landry is no joke. The man is a powerhouse all on his own—quick-witted, smart as hell, and cutthroat. If you aren’t on top of your game, you’re out of play.

We pause at a traffic light and wait as the cars in the opposite lanes barrel across the intersection. Oliver ends the call with Rosie. I’m about to ask him how far away from the meeting we are when a pedestrian with long, dark hair crosses in front of us.

Unlatching my seat belt, I rise in my seat to get a better look. Oliver’s eyes are on me as I try to ascertain whether this is the girl from the airport, but I ignore him. Instead, I watch the sway of her hips back and forth and determine, without a doubt, it’s not her.

I sink back into the seat just before Oliver slams the gas again.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks.

“Not really.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you were super fucking late?”

“I wasn’t that late,” I contend. “Just shut the hell up about it.”

“Fine, fine. Just be ready for Landry. He knows how much we stand to make if we purchase this property from him, so he’s not going to give it to us easily.”

I look at Oliver and laugh. “Does he ever?”

“Maybe he’ll be nice and use some lube.”

“Let’s hope he remembers how much Dad donated to the Landry mayoral campaign a few years back. Maybe that’ll help.”

He takes a right off the freeway and heads to the outskirts of Savannah where the Landrys’ estate is located. I’ve been there a few times for random events and meetings, and it’s nice as hell. I keep telling my brothers we need something like that, but our personalities are too different to agree on anything. We just meet in Aspen and go skiing every winter instead.

As the car pulls up to the gate, a man takes Oliver’s information and buzzes us through. We slip by tall rows of trees along the freshly paved path leading to the massive farmhouse nestled back away from the road. Oliver parks the car and looks at me.

“You ready, big guy?” he asks.

“Let’s do this.”

* * *

Blaire

A lot of assumptions are made on first appearances, so for that reason, I strive never to be underdressed for an occasion. Yet as I walk up the steps to the large farmhouse at the address given to me by my brother, I feel totally unprepared.

A flowy, pale yellow sundress hangs from my shoulders and hides the sandals on my feet. It seemed like the perfect easy ensemble to do a little shopping on the quaint little street beside my condo, and I didn’t see the need to change before picking up some papers for Sienna.

I was wrong.

This place is gorgeous and elegant and oh, so Southern. As I knock on the door and wait for someone, presumably a butler, to open the door, I wish to heaven I’d have worn something slightly more professional.

Footsteps sound from the other side before the door is whisked open by a man standing in a pair of dark dress pants and a blue and white checkered shirt. He’s divine with his freshly cut dark hair and clean-shaven face.

“You must be Blaire Gibson?” he asks.

“Yes, I am.”

A smile stretches across his cheeks. “I’m Graham Landry. Nice to meet you.” He extends a hand as he steps out of my way so I can enter.

We shake quickly, his palm heavy and strong, then he leads me into the back of the house. I can hear laughter coming from a room in front of us as Graham turns toward me.

“I’m winding up a business meeting,” he says. “It would’ve been over, actually, had my brother Lincoln not shown up.”

As the laughter grows again, I laugh too. “I have a brother like that.”

“So you feel my pain. On a serious note, Sienna has told me a lot about you. I wanted to thank your family for taking her in the way you have.”

We stop just short of the doorway.

“She’s so good for my brother. He’s smitten with her,” I say.

“I think she’s in about the same shape.” He grins. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Linc while I grab the papers you’re after.”

He enters the room in front of me and makes his way toward a chair at the head of the table. I, on the other hand, stutter step.