Page 21 of No Control
“Ah, you’re awake.” I keep my arms folded across my chest.
“Who are you?” Mason lifts his head, looking up at me wearily. He doesn’t have much fight in him, which isn’t all that surprising.
I let out a sigh. “I guess I could introduce myself.” I stick out my hand. “Henry Bayne.”
Recognition flashes across Mason’s face, but I don’t think he actually connects the dots. His eyes drop to his bindings as he squirms. “What the...”
“Oh right.” I take my hand back, laughing. “You're a little restrained.”
He makes a weird face at me, his lip curling upward in disgust. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“More like what isn’t wrong with me,” I say dryly. “But anyway, I’m pressed for time, and as much as I’d love to draw out this conversation, I have a meeting to get to before my flight leaves this evening. I had imagined something more intricate, but this’ll do.”
His eyes widen as I pull out my blade. “Wh-what are you doing, bro? Is this over me gettin’ a little pissed about the road? It’s not a big deal. Just call it water under the bridge—”
“You’re a bloody idiot,” I snap, shaking my head at him. “You really think I would slit someone’s throat over a little road rage?”
I mean, maybe. I don’t know.
“Then what the hell is this?”
“You tried to put your hands on something that belongs to me, and that’s punishable by death, I’m afraid.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I believe you read over the contract I provided your fiancée.” I hate using that word when it comes to Lydia and another man, but the reference finally hits this motherfucker.
“Whoa...” His voice trails off as he looks up at me. “You’re the dude that flew all the way here for some stupid book?”
I frown. “It’s unbecoming to talk about someone’s work in that manner.”
“It’s just a book.”
“Have you ever read one?”
“A book? Of course, I have. I’m not an imbecile.”
That’s debatable.
“I meant one of hers.”
“Uh, no, but she knows it’s not my thing. I don’t like to read that weird shit she writes, but...” His face flashes with understanding. “I bet you do. You probably get off to the dirty scenes.”
“I can be a sicko,” I admit, running the tip of my finger along the blade edge. I don’t press hard enough to break skin, but the hard swallow from Mason makes me smile. “But to tell you the truth, I have read her works.”
“And what? You’re some psycho fan who beats off to my girl’s picture?”
My face twists up in disgust. “I’m not a pervert, Mason, though psycho might be fitting.”
“But you’re willing to pay her all that money for a book? Or are you wanting to fuck her, too for that?”
“You’re shallow enough to put a price on her, I see,” I comment, taking a step toward Mason. His body trembles, and I’m not sure if it’s the lack of heat or the fear I see wafting up from him.
“People pay for sex all the time.”
“I wasn’t paying her for sex. I was paying her to write a book.”
“But you intended to fuck her.”
