Chapter 10.
I don't say a word on the way back to the house. It's as if the car is cloaked with heavy tension, Masen's words ringing in my ears on repeat.
I wonder where they come from. He had that look in his eyes again, the haunted one, as if the vibrant green of his irises gets swallowed by shadows. As if they've seen too much and they're blinding him.
"You don't talk much, do you?" There it is again, that friendly note that creeps through his rough voice, trying again.
"I've never really had many people to talk to." As I say it, I realize how true it is, the reality of my words stabbing into my soul.
I watch the profile of the man who uncovered one of the lies, who looked at me with worry. Not pity. Worry.
Masen has a face people would pay to have, except for the scars, the ragged edges, and the looming darkness that surrounds him like clouds. They hang onto him like he's their gravity. Somehow it makes him more unique, more real.
He would be too handsome if not for the few imperfections.
I see the reflection of the road into the sunglasses he's wearing and then, there's a slight lift of the corners of his mouth, a lopsided smirk that makes me burn up even though the air conditioning is on.
"I don't know if you've noticed," he starts. The grin gives way to a dimple. I look away, embarrassed by my reaction to him. "But I'm here and I guess we're gonna spend a lot of time together…"
So, he wants to be friendly, now? The man who dragged me away from freedom that barely lasted twenty-four hours?
My silence makes Masen sigh again, and I watch him bite his lip, searching for words.
"Look," he starts again. "I know he hired me, but I need you to know I work for you. You are my client, Mrs. Anderson."
His words make my icy exterior melt a little.
"And?" I ask harshly, keeping my eyes on the road before us, on the bright coral Porsche that's leading us through heavy traffic.
"And?" There's a chuckle, a real one. It makes my skin tingle. "The next time you get bruises like that you better be sure the person who gave you those will get a taste of their own medicine."
"You're totally bluffing," I mutter under my breath, the manor coming into view. The brick walls making me want to sink into the interior of the car and never come out.
"Nothing lasts forever, princess," he replies.
I swallow down the lump in my throat.
"Why did you lie about the stylist?" I ask, suddenly. I'm still baffled he managed to outsmart Rosalie's inquisition.
"You looked like you needed someone in your corner." That is all he says before we drive through the gates.
Alistair is at the office, our housekeeper washing windows outside, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead.
"So, where do you hide when you don't have to babysit me?" I wonder, walking over to the kitchen, picking up an apple. Bitter freshness fills my senses, and I sigh, noticing how hungry I was. I haven't eaten anything since that leftover pizza this morning.
"I have a room in the basement." Masen stuffs his hands in the front pocket of his slacks.
"Wow," I huff. "The fucking basement. What a treat…" I start. "As if we don't have enough rooms on the main floors."
"It's quite alright," Masen says. "It's next to the gym, and I have a comfortable bed. I don't need more than that."
"You like working out?" I almost joke. It's obvious he does, since he's got the body of a martial arts champion. They don't go around handing those out.
"You don't have to like it," he says with a smile that almost makes my heart stop. "You just have to do it."
"Like your job?" I blurt out.
"No." He shakes his head, the smile gone, replaced by his signature blank expression. "That has been the case in the past. I really didn't enjoy it for a while, and I thought it would be the same with you," he goes on, his honestly stinging a bit. Then his eyes narrow slightly, an emotion swimming through the pools of emerald that would frighten me if he hadn't been so…open, and nice to me just now. He looks like he's out for blood. "But I just found out just how much you need me," he says. I don't know how to react because it would give away the truth and my lies would crumble to the floor in a pile of pathetic nothingness. Two is one, Mrs. Anderson. And one? That's none." Masen is once again assuring me he's in my corner.
His words leave me baffled. I wonder what's made him this way, this hard, unpenetrable shield of a man I don't even know. I want to find out why he cares this much, learn about his clearly battered soul and the demons that haunt those beautiful eyes.
"What are you?" I wonder, shaking my head in disbelief.
"A firm believer of death before dishonor." My eyes widen. "And one does simply not lay hands on their woman." Just like that, Masen tells me he knows without actually telling me. I'm nailed to the ground, appetite lost as I curl my fingers tightly around the apple in my hand.
With those last words, he walks off, and by the tone of his voice, I don't even dare to doubt this strangely dark man. The door to the basement opens, his heavy footsteps going down the oak stairs quickly.
I'm more confused than ever. About this man, about his wisdom and the force behind the things that he says. I wonder if he's serious about hurting the people who hurt me? Well, that's only one person, and Masen doesn't even know half of it.
I head upstairs to my room, finding my suitcase sitting at the end of the carefully made bed. It's probably only the third time the housekeeper came in here. Mainly, because I don't like people touching my stuff, and also because cleaning it, and keeping it that way actually gives me something to do.
Unpacking makes me feel like a failure. It makes me think of my crazy decision to just run for it without even making plans. I should've been more careful, should've thought out something that would grant me peace for longer than just one measly night. Of course, now, Alistair would have me on a way tighter leash. He'll definitely notice when if I try this again.
At least, when I do it alone.
Does Al even realize Masen might be my Trojan Horse?