Relentless (Mason Family 4)

“Yes. Oliver.” I stare at the letter so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t burst into flames. “Do you know what he did?”

“You already asked me that, and I do not.”

My body trembles. Adrenaline pours through me, and I can’t quite get a grip on my emotions.

“He paid Luca’s loan off, Lis. He paid eighty-six thousand dollars.”

The number is staggering. And given that I’d only paid fourteen thousand off over the lat three years, it makes me even angrier. There was still so far to go.

“Oh, wow,” she breathes.

A small laugh of disbelief escapes my throat as I stand at the head of the table and continue to stare at the letter.

When did he do this? Why?

My memory shuffles to yesterday—to before the Marius incident—and I recall getting the letter in the mail.

So he did this before he broke up with me.

Tears fill in my eyes because this is another complication that I didn’t want or need. This was hard enough before. I didn’t ask for this. And I still owe the money … just to a different place. A place that I would never have done. I would never have mixed money with any relationship—especially this one.

“Why would he do this?” I ask, my voice breaking.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No. I really don’t. I just … I don’t know what to do, Lis.”

Was this his way of making me beholden to him? Was this his way of keeping me under his thumb?

The similarities between my relationship with Luca and with Oliver begin to bleed together.

Both men held things over my head. Both men thought the worst of me. Both men broke my heart.

I close my eyes and feel anger erupting from my core. It’s hot—molten—as it flows through my veins.

“Hang on,” I say into the phone before pulling it away from my ear.

I pull up my personal email account.

To:

From: Shaye Brewer

Re: Loan

Dear Mr. Mason,

I just received a letter informing me that a loan in my name was paid in full. I only know of one person who would be able to satisfy that note.

Please be advised that I will be contacting an attorney to set up a repayment plan with you in the coming days.

Best,

Shaye

I hit send.

“What did you just do?” Lisbeth asks.

“I sent him an email and told him that I would be paying him back.”

“And you did that why?”

“Because I’m not going to owe him a damn thing.”

My email dings. I put Lisbeth on speakerphone.

To: Shaye Brewer

From: Oliver Mason, CEO

Re: Loan

Shaye,

Any repayments will not be accepted. Please save yourself the time. Also, I’m sorry I did not have time to explain this in person. That was not my intent.

Best,

Oliver

“Why? Why is he doing this?” I ask, my fingers already typing out a new message.

To: Toni Marquez

Cc: Oliver Mason

From: Shaye Brewer

Re: Two-Weeks’ Notice

Dear Ms. Marquez,

Please accept this email as my formal resignation as executive assistant from Mason Limited, effective two weeks from today’s date. I endeavor to make this process as painless as possible. However, I am ill and may not make it back into the office. Please let me know if you have any questions or if I can help out from home.

Best,

Shaye Brewer

I read it aloud to Lisbeth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks.

“Definitely.”

“Then send it but I think you should sit on it for a while.”

“Sitting on it is what got me in this situation.”

Lisbeth laughs. “At least you still have your sense of humor, I guess.”

I hit send.

Thirty-Three

Oliver

Well, I’ve made it two days.

Toni called this morning to ask if I’d like to look at resumes. I changed the subject.

Holt suggested we go look at job sites this afternoon. I deferred.

Boone volunteered to get me a ticket to Vegas. I laughed at him.

What the hell am I going to do in Vegas?

I think he was trying to make a point in his own way. It was as if he were saying, “You want to be single? Go to Sin City” because he knows the truth.

I want to be single about as bad as I want a hole in the head.

The sun sits just above the trees. It’s the first time I’ve sat in the wicker chairs since Shaye was here. She was only in this room once, yet it feels odd without her in it now. The whole house is quieter. It’s definitely cleaner though. Memories of her hair ties on random surfaces and her socks on the living room floor make me smile.

It’s sad. I’m sad.

The doorbell rings. I get to my feet and make my way to the foyer.

It’s not her. I’d know. I can always tell when she’s close.

A quick check of the peephole confirms my suspicions. It’s Mom.

“Hey,” I say after opening the door. “What brings you by?”

She steps inside and leans in for me to kiss her. I do.