Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The four men start loading up the bags, and I run around, looking for other things to take with me. I glance at my painting on the wall. I could hang that up, really make my room comfortable. I pull it off the wall when a man barks behind me, “No.”
I turn around and see Mason staring at the painting, his face somewhat horrified. I let the painting go and cross my arms. “What do you mean no? It’s my room.”
“No way in fuckin’ hell that paintin’ is touchin’ one of my walls.”
I purse my lips. “Why not?”
“It’s fuckin’ hideous!”
I stare at the painting. Okay, sure, to the untrained eye it may come across as rather grotesque. It’s hard to explain, but it’s kind of a tangle of naked bodies, and there is an eye right in the middle. It’s an expensive piece, and I like it for some twisted reason. I always had a thing for the items that were different, unlike all the rest. I don’t like anything standard.
“It’s not hideous,” I protest, facing him. “If I’m going to come and work for you, this painting is coming with me. I dare you to fight me.”
Malakai comes in behind Mason and glances at the painting. His face scrunches.
“Don’t scrunch your nose up, there is nothing wrong with it.”
“It’s nasty, darlin’.”
“It’s not nasty,” I snap, crossing my arms. “Do you men want me to come and scrub your friend’s house, probably wash his nasty sheets, clean his gross toilets, or not?”
“Not if that paintin’ is comin’,” Mason mutters, crossing his arms and giving me a look that just dares me to argue.
“If you don’t take the painting, buddy, you don’t take me. And I’m worth it, I promise you.”
Mason glares at me; I glare right back.
“You should know, I’m an exceptional cook, amongst my other maid-like talents. You’ll regret not letting me and my incredible painting into your house. Live a little, I promise it won’t bite.”
Mason grunts. “What-fuckin’-ever. Put it somewhere I can’t see it.”
“Last time I checked, I had my own room. And I’m like ninety percent certain you’re not coming into my room, so we’re safe.”
“Only ninety percent sure?” Maverick says, stepping up beside Malakai and frowning at the painting.
“Stop scowling at my painting, you bunch of amateurs! It’s lovely. And yes, only ninety percent certain, the other ten percent of me is female, and he’s all broody and angry and that makes my vagina do weird things, so I can’t say for a hundred percent certain he’ll never come into my bedroom.”
All three men stare at me, then Malakai and Maverick burst out laughing. “Fuck me, you’re one in a million, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Maverick chuckles. “Can’t wait to see how this ends.”
I don’t let Mason comment to my little outburst. I’ve never been known to sugar-coat things, unfortunately. I’ve always been rather loud and said what I needed to say and always told the truth. Even if, at times I’ve been informed, the truth makes people uncomfortable. I would rather, any day, an uncomfortable truth over a white, hot lie.
Those things destroy people.
And I’m not into destroying people.
I’d much rather them be uncomfortable.
I find Chantelle dragging my last suitcase out of my room. “That’s it, those big, hot men took the rest. I think Mason likes me.”
I raise my brows. “I’m not entirely sure Mason likes anyone. In fact, I’m starting to think the man is incapable of doing anything but grunting, let alone feeling anything, but do share why you think this.”
“Well,” she tells me, leaning in, “he said hello before in the hallway when we were waiting.”
I blink at her, then give her a wicked grin. “My lord, sounds like he wants into those panties. He said hello? Wow. That’s big, Chan.”
She shoves me, laughing. “Okay, well, he was probably being polite. But my God, my knees went wobbly. I’m visiting you every day, I swear. And I want photos. If you see him without a shirt, at any point, I want a damned photo of it. God. I can only imagine how he looks naked. Better yet, imagine how he fucks, all angry like that. He’d be an animal.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Only you would be thinking about sleeping with him. Mind out of the gutter for five minutes and let’s focus on me not killing him before I make the month. He said my painting was hideous.”
Chantelle stops then bursts out laughing.
“What?” I mutter, putting my hands on my hips.
“Honey,” she giggles. “It is hideous. So freaking hideous.”
I sigh.
Bunch.
Of.
Amateurs.
~4~
MASON
“Quit callin’ me,” I growl into the phone, fists clench, back tight, neck aching from stress. I’m sick to death of this fucking woman and her shit.
It’s been five years.
Why the fuck is she still fighting me?
“I won’t stop any of this until I get what’s mine, Mason. Mom was out of her mind, we all knew this, so her giving everything to you isn’t fair and I’ll fight it until someone sees I deserve at least half, or at least all that expensive antique jewelry she left you.”