Hot Sugar

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mason

The office is fucking boring after the morning I just had. Oh shit. I did shit to Jim that no human deserves. I beat that man to a pulp until he was moaning incoherently, in a fetal position on the floor. I shoulda gone easier. I shoulda just struck him once and then left off.

But the sight of the loser manhandling my girl made me go ballistic. The blood rushed to my face, every muscle in my body straining. Because when I burst in, Carrie was struggling with her hands pinned behind her back, that curvy body unable to move, face white with fear.

So yeah, it touched off the caveman inside. And like a fucking beast, I ripped that man right off her body. So what if he’s her dad? So what if he’s sixty and weighs about ninety pounds, wasted and gaunt? He was hurting my girl and that was that. Eat dirt, fuckface. Eat it and weep.

Meanwhile, Carrie’s mom wasn’t much better. The woman was ransacking her daughter’s purse, can you believe it? Like a drug addict, she was literally going through everything in my sweet girl’s bag, searching for scraps of what, I have no idea.

So I was tempted to hit her as well. But the civilized man inside took over for an instant, and I merely raised my hand with a threatening expression. The blow never came as the woman fell to her knees before me, tears streaming down her face.

“I just need a little cash!” she bawled. “Just a little moolah!”

By this point, Carrie and Nicole were outside, standing safely in the parking lot. I was tempted to kick this woman in the face, because seriously? After being caught red-handed stealing from her daughter, she was now begging me for dough?

And with a disgusted snort, I gave in. Fuck these fuckers. If that’s what they wanted then fine. Money was all too easy for me. So whipping my wallet out, I made it rain. Oh yeah, I didn’t write a check, nice and easy. Instead, I threw the hundred dollar bills into the air, the green blur like a winter’s snow.

And Jim and Rhonda went berserk. Literally berserk. You would think that they were starving people and I’d just thrown them some crumbs. Because they began scrambling for the money on their hands and knees, stuffing the Benjamins into their pockets, greedily squealing.

“We’re rich!” Rhonda screamed. “Rich rich rich!”

Oh god. Was two thousand dollars in greenbacks enough to make someone rich? Not in my book. But if it got these fuckers off my best girl’s back, then so be it.

And spinning on my heel, I stalked out of that shithole. What a fucking dump. The place had rats, I could smell pesticide mixed with mouse droppings. There was a dead cockroach lying face up in a corner, scrawny legs bent towards the sky.

Fuck. Carrie lived here? Oh shit. She deserved so much better, this hovel was fit for pigs only.

So jumping into the Maserati, I pressed the pedal to the metal. We flew out of there light speed, and not a moment too soon. And then the damndest thing happened. My sweet girl started crying in the front seat. Those big brown eyes, which hadn’t shown an ounce of fear during that ordeal, began to water and huge teardrops rolled down those sweet cheeks.

“Baby,” I said helplessly, still driving the car, one hand fumbling towards hers. “Baby, what can I do?”

She laughed a little through her tears, wiping futilely at that beautiful face.

“Mason,” she managed with a teary smile. “You’ve already done so much. Thank you.”

And oh shit, but my heart started pumping fast, almost beating right out of my chest. Because shit, I wanted her. If I had to do it all over again, I would. I’d beat the crap out of Jim, and beat the crap out of Rhonda too. I’d give them my fortune, put them in rehab, if that’s what made my baby happy.

But it’s not supposed to be this way.

This is a transaction.

I’m paying her to be my fake girlfriend, one that I fuck with gusto.

So yeah, these feelings were so fucked up.

But I couldn’t think about it now. Right now, it was all about taking care of Carrie and Nicole. So pulling up to the Mandarin Oriental, I threw the keys to the valet.

“Same,” was my clipped order.

The freckled-face boy nodded, scampering to do my bidding.

And within twenty minutes, Carrie and Nicole were ensconced in a luxury suite with giant floor to ceiling windows overlooking Central Park.

But the two women were too stunned to appreciate the view. Instead, Nicole sat trembling on the couch, staring as Carrie paced the room.

“I have to get our birth certificates,” the curvy brunette murmured, thinking out loud. “I have to get that, as well as our social security cards, as well as,” she paused, turning to her sister. “What do you need Nicole? Is there anything you need?”