“God dammit, I won’t fuckin’ argue with you anymore, do you understand me?” Mason roars down the phone.

I freeze in the hallway on my way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before bed and to check and make sure everything is done for the night. I don’t know if he knows I’m awake, but I’m certain I’m not meant to hear whatever conversation he’s having. I should turn around and walk back into my bedroom, but curiosity killed the cat, and I’m curious as to who he’s yelling at.

“I’ve told you once, Theresa, I won’t tell you again. Quit fuckin’ callin’ me. There is nothin’ here for you. I will not back down. I will not fight you. I will not give you a damned thing. This house, and everythin’ in it, is fuckin’ mine.”

He makes a low, throaty sound as he’s listening to whoever Theresa is argue back. I wait, curious. Is she an ex-wife? Nobody mentioned an ex-wife, but in saying that, nobody even knew Mason was rich so they’re unlikely to know a great deal about his past. I’m curious, all the same. Whoever it is, she is pressing his buttons, and it has something to do with this house.

“Go right a-fuckin’-head, send your lawyers, do your best, you’ll not win. It’s set in fuckin’ stone, and that’s exactly how it’ll stay.”

I peer around the corner and see him standing in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, body exposed and bare, leaning a hip against the counter. My mouth goes dry as I take in the large, muscled body that makes him ... well, him. Tattoos, olive skin stretched over raw muscle—he’s perfection. I swallow, wanting to go and run my tongue over those muscles. I’m only woman, after all. My eyes drop to the boxers and the way his cock bounces as he turns. Good lord, I’m going to wet myself.

“Don’t call me again. Any contact you can do through your lawyer. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He slams the phone onto the kitchen counter and rubs a hand down his face.

Should I go in there and see if he’s okay? Honestly, it could go either way. He might turn around and tell me to get lost, which is the most likely scenario, or he might appreciate someone to talk to. I mean, we’re living here together, we’re probably going to be for a while if all goes well, so maybe I should establish some sort of friendship with him. Outside of the club, I don’t know that he has many people.

So, I take a breath and step out. His eyes move straight to me, and I brace for impact. For a moment, those intense eyes just hold mine, then he looks away. “You hear that?”

“I was on my way out to get a drink.”

“You. Hear. It?”

Moody.

As suspected.

“Yes, I heard it. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

I walk into the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with water from the fridge and then turning and staring at him. “You want to vent? Let it all out? Bitch about someone? I’m always down for a good bitching session, and I’ll totally be on your side, even if it’s you being the douche.”

He glances at me, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not the fuckin’ douche.”

“Well, then,” I say, walking around the counter, pulling out a stool and sitting on it. “Even more reason to share with me so we can hate whoever it is together. I’m good at that, as you know.”

He keeps leaning against the counter, and at this angle, I’m facing his groin. Good lord. I squirm and move my eyes away from the bulge and that incredible V that runs into his boxers. My heart races, a feeling I’ve not felt for a very long time. My womanly instincts are kicking in, and I’m finding myself wanting to lick every inch of the man I’m working for.

Very professional.

“My sister wants my house.”

I remove my sexy thoughts quickly and look up at him. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Wants this house?”

“That’s what I just fuckin’ said.”

“Keep your shirt on,” I mutter, then glance at his bare chest. “Or not.”

“It was my mother and father’s house. My mother left it all to me, not a cent to her, and now she wants it, and she’s tryin’ to fight it.”

“First of all...” I say, crossing my legs, and not missing how his eyes drop to my boy shorts that peek out from under the long shirt I’m wearing.

“You always wear that shit around the house?”

I click my fingers in front of his face. “Focus. That’s what I sleep in. You’re more exposed than me, you don’t hear me complaining.”

“I’m a man.”

“And I like to be comfortable, now can we get back to the subject on hand? Your sister. As I was saying, first of all, I have to know, how come your mom didn’t leave her a single thing? I mean, did they have a falling out? Not get along?”

Mason’s eyes move to mine after lingering for a second too long on my thighs, not that I mind; it feels nice to be noticed.

“They used to, but my mom was unwell and my sister did nothin’, not a fuckin’ thing. She bailed and wanted nothin’ to do with her, but the moment she found out she got left nothin’, she was furious.”

“Wow,” I murmur. “That’s incredibly selfish. Not of your mother, but of your sister. She sounds like she’d be a good match for my sister.”

Mason snorts. “Yeah, she would.”

“So, now she is trying to fight you for the house and money?”

Mason crosses his arms. Don’t look, Saskia. Do not look at the candy you really, really want to lick.

“Yeah, that house and the jewelry Mom had. It’s worth a lot. She wants, as she tells me, at least that.”

“God,” I mutter, scrunching up my nose. “What a cow. So, you’re telling me she didn’t help your poor mom when she was sick, but she thinks she’s somehow entitled to all this?”

Mason nods.

“Nope. Just nope.”

He makes a grunting sound, but his eyes go a little light, like he almost wants to smile. That makes me happy. Everyone deserves someone who can make them smile.

“That’s all of it, my sister is fuckin’ me off, and I’m trying to figure out how to deal with her.”

“It’s not an easy task. I know how you feel,” I tell him. “You could try to gently shove her off a cliff. As long as you put on the tears, no one will think you done it...”

Mason grunts, and shakes his head.

“You hear any more from that bitch of a woman who calls herself your sister?”

I smile at him. I like people being on my side. It kind of feels nice. “No, thank god.”

“You think she’s even pregnant?”

I shrug. “With Yolanda, anything is possible. She enjoys seeing other people in pain.”

Mason nods, then murmurs, “Start wearing pants around the house, yeah?”

He pushes off the counter, and I watch him start striding away.

“Is my ass offending you?”

He grunts. “No, it’s makin’ me want to shove my fuckin’ dick into it. Wear pants.”

Oh. Boy.

He doesn’t turn and look at me when he says this, and thank god, because I think, for the first time in years, I actually flush.

Get it together.

“I knew you wanted to be my friend,” I call out, a huge smile on my face.

“Unlikely, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Gah.

Swoon.

~*~*~*~