Chapter Thirteen
Mason
The cold beerfrom Layla’s fridge tastes like victory. I grin and shake my head, trying to wrap my head around all of this, but when I look up and see her grinning at me from across the kitchen island, I don’t need to think very hard.
This is natural. This feels like the obvious move to make. I mean I’ve been head over heels in love with this woman for years. And now, she’s mine, and I’m hers. Where the fuck else would I be but right here with her?
She smiles and says hello into the phone as the call goes through. We weren’t in her house more than four minutes before she pulled out her phone and declared she was calling her financial planner—about what, I’m not quite clear on. But I take a seat across from her and grin, sipping my beer and watching her talk shop.
“No, today, Melissa,” she says into the phone. “Like right now, actually. This tech is groundbreaking, and I want to be in on the first floor, okay?” She grins. “Melissa, you’re the best, thanks. Yeah just email me as soon as it’s ready.”
She hangs up and grins from ear-to-ear at me. I arch an amused brow curiously.
“And just what was that about?”
She bites her lip and slides off her stool. She waltzes around the island and leans into me as my arms wrap around her.
“That,” she purrs. “Was me making moves.”
“Making moves, huh?”
She nods. “So, when I sold Lyla Rose Intimates, my financial planner, who’s a genius, had me form another company. It saved me from a huge tax hit with the company sale, but it was also a place to park the money from that until I could figure out what to do with it.”
I whistle lowly. I actually followed the sale of Layla’s company pretty closely when it went down. The conglomerate that bought it is publicly traded, so the sale was made public too, and I know Layla walked away with an insane amount of money from it. Insane like three-hundred million insane. I mean, our neighborhood is ritzy as fuck, and her house is nice, but why she isn’t living it large in a mansion on the Italian riviera right now is beyond me.
“So, this is where you come in.”
I chuckle. “Me, huh?”
“Yeah, you,” she whispers. “Mason, I think I’ve got your ticket back to Stanford.”
I frown. “Look, Layla, whatever you’re doing, I’m thankful, but, it’s not for me.”
She sighs. “Mason, it’s college, and it’s important.”
“And if I don’t want to go back?”
She glares at me. “You’re quite the stubborn ass when you want to be, aren’t you?”
I grin. “Taurus, sorry.”
She rolls her eyes. “Get a fucking degree, Mason.”
“But I could just stay here and be your pool boy, you know.”
She blushes. “I do like that idea, but if you’re cleaning the pool, who’s going to take care of me?”
I sigh dramatically and stroke my chin. “Shit, that’s a conundrum, isn’t it?”
She giggles, and then she rakes her teeth over her lip. “Well, here’s another idea. Hear me out. You stay here, with me, you commute to Stanford, and you let me be the funding to get your company started.”
I blink, and my heart starts to beat faster. “Sorry, what?”
“Your company,” she says softly. “For your encryption algorithm. Mason, you can’t sell that to a company, you have to make it your own company. But you need startup, and I can be that for you. So?” She shrugs. “Look maybe it’s a crazy idea, and maybe you really don’t actually want to stay here and be this old lady’s personal sex toy—”
“What in the ever-loving fuck would lead you to think I wouldn’t want that?” I chuckle. I pull her close and kiss her softly. “And old? Really?”
She blushes. “Well, if you’re open to it, I think we could build this company together.”