Rules of a Hidden Heart

LAUREN

The mansion had never seemed so bright before.

For the first time, I felt a sense of unease as I stepped inside. This place, my home for the past four months, no longer brought me comfort. It was the second place I’d ever felt safe in.

Now, my legs felt like lead against the floor, my body trembled, and every instinct screamed at me to turn around and leave.

I wasn’t ready.

I wasn’t ready to face the man I loved with all my heart, terrified that he could see it in my eyes, hear it in my breath, and sense it in every move I made.

He couldn’t know the truth, I told myself firmly. But the thought of living with him, seeing him, and talking to him every day for the next few months made me doubt if I could handle it.

I thought I had enough self-control to stay away from him, but I wasn’t sure if my eyes would betray me.

I wasn’t sure they wouldn’t tell him, “Hey, I love you.”

But what could I do? I thought, feeling frustrated.

Knowing the kind of man he was, knowing that I’d face rejection, and being certain that things would become awkward between us.

And in the process of confessing my feelings, I could lose his friendship too.

What could I do? Hope that miraculously, my feelings would remain hidden.

I hoped that deep inside his heart, he was developing feelings for me too. And when the time came for him to confront me about his feelings, I could confidently confess mine.

I’d considered the options available to a woman in my position and concluded that unless I set some ground rules for myself.

I had only one way to control my feelings. I knew that if I didn’t want to ruin my friendship with Mason, I’d have to follow some rules.

The rules?

•Don’t make too much eye contact.

•Avoid touching if possible.

•Do not be alone in a room with him for more than fifteen minutes.

•Stay away from his smile.

•Don’t get too comfortable with him.

•Don’t say you love him.

•Don’t say you love him.

•Do not say you love him.

Easy.

Right?

And while I felt safe with these rules that I kept repeating like a mantra, what would happen if he asked why I had changed? Why was I keeping a safe distance from him?

I couldn’t trust myself not to stare into those gray eyes of his that I loved so much and not blurt out anything. But I could trust the lie I would tell him, couldn’t I?

That the stress of work was getting to me.

Having made my decision, I should have felt better. But better meant confessing my feelings and better meant that Mason accepted them.

I felt only a black emptiness within myself, and I moved about the house aimlessly, barely aware of anything.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear the door open and close behind me. The first sign that I wasn’t alone was when Mason spoke, amusement in his voice.

“Lost in your thoughts again? Do we need to get you help?”

Startled, I spun around, my heart pounding in my chest at the sight of the man I’d been thinking about standing just a few feet behind me.

He was dressed casually for this time of day. Being a workaholic, I’d expected him to go straight back to work.

And after eight days of not seeing him, seeing him now was overwhelming.

I’d forgotten the devastating effect he could have on me—not really forgotten, but doubted my memory. But I’d deceived myself.

He was still the most devilishly handsome man I’d ever seen, wickedly attractive and so perfect, and I wished that he weren’t.

If he weren’t, things would be so much easier.

Mason was dressed in black and gray, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his open collar revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his chest.

But it didn’t matter what he wore. He looked good in anything.

Was his stubble neatly trimmed? Yes. Was there mere curiosity in the brief glance he gave me? Probably not even that.

A crooked smile curved his mouth, and his hair was tousled as if he’d run his fingers through it many times. It was unkempt and sexy.

There was a teasing glint in his eyes, and I found myself breathless just looking at him.

Too much eye contact.

I lowered my gaze when my heart pounded against my chest and my arms ached to wrap themselves around his neck, pull him into a hug, and tell him how much I’d missed him in the past eight days.

Too much thinking.

Intending to put as much distance as possible between us, I hurried to take several steps back, but before I could, he spoke again.

“You’re awfully quiet, Lauren. Thought I’d come back to a full-grown dragon. What happened? Was the fire put out before you got here?”

I simply said, “Shut up,” in a voice that discouraged further questions. But Mason wasn’t one to be silenced easily.

“Don’t I get a welcome back?”

My stomach churned with tension.

“Accept my ‘shove it’ instead.” I tried my best to keep my voice emotionless, but a faint trace of emotion still lingered.

I knew trying to hide it wouldn’t work. Especially when I was nervous. And there was no denying that I was indeed nervous.

He stared at me for a moment longer before he conceded in a grumpy tone. “I guess I deserve that,” he replied softly.

He was still leaning against the door, showing no signs of moving away from it.

Something in the way he said it made me chuckle, and I asked teasingly, “Did you grow some common sense in the States? If so, can you go back and stay there for a whole month?”

“And have the entire government on me because I didn’t call you?”

He didn’t give me time to respond—though I was so surprised and embarrassed that I probably wouldn’t have been able to say much—and continued. “Right? That’s what you would do.”

I hated myself for letting him know how worried and affected I’d been by his absence.

If I hadn’t, Mason wouldn’t have sounded so arrogant or looked so proud that he’d evoked those feelings in me.

I figured if he knew about my feelings, he'd probably act worse. So, I decided to keep them to myself. Up until now, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t make me regret it.

“That would never happen.”

He chuckled softly, “You were mad I didn’t call you for eight days, Lauren. I could tell you were worried.”

What Mason didn’t pick up on was my growing feelings for him.

I blinked, unsure of how to respond, but I managed to squeak out, “I wasn’t mad, and I wasn’t worried.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can say to make me believe you.”

“I wasn’t!” I shot him a glare.

“You’re getting defensive and angry.”

“Do you know what that means?” He didn’t wait for me to answer, “When someone gets defensive and angry, it means the other person was right about what they were saying.”

“You’re the most frustrating man.”

He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t know the meaning of frustrating,” he replied smoothly.

“I guess you do.”

A slow, lazy grin spread across Mason’s lips as he changed the subject. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“Eight days without me. Did you enjoy it?”

A faint smile touched his lips again as I took a deep, calming breath, avoiding his gaze. “More than you did,” I said.

“Who said I didn’t?”

My head snapped up to meet his gaze, and I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him see how his words affected me.

How much I wanted to scream or pull him close.

So many things I wanted to do but couldn’t.

Why was he so confusing?

Why did I feel like he didn’t like me at all sometimes, and other times, like he had feelings for me?

His actions and words were leading me to believe that he was either confused about his feelings or was just playing mind games with me.

Why did I feel like it was the latter though?

He made me feel comfortable with him, made me love him.

He wasn’t so dumb that he wouldn’t know what he was doing. Mason was smart, he knew what cards to show and what not to show.

But when I think about this, I get confused, because what would he gain by making me fall for him?

“Billie is coming over later.” At my raised eyebrows, he explained, “I’m having guests over for dinner. A new partner of mine. I would like for you to be there with me.”

“A new partner?” I asked in surprise, the word echoing in my ears.

It took a few seconds for me to process.

“You have a partner?”

He paused for a moment, but then his lips curled up slightly.

“I didn’t before, but I do now.”

“Why now?” In the short time I had worked for him, Mason didn’t have a partner.

Something about this seemed off, and his sudden mention of a new partner and the lack of enthusiasm in his voice spoke volumes.

“My hands are tied, Lauren.” The quiet, tired note in his voice had me frowning again.

He looked almost frustrated for a moment. Then he smiled, a downright beautiful smile that I knew was fake.

“They’re coming over at six.”

I wanted to ask him what was going on because I could sense it. I didn’t speak Mason's language, but I could tell something was up.

For a while now, I knew.

I never got to ask him because when I looked up, he was gone, and I wondered when he had left while I was lost in my thoughts.

He was right. I had to learn not to live in my thoughts.

For the next few hours, I didn’t see him again and I didn’t bother to look for him.

A bit of space from him was all that I needed, even though occasionally, I would think about him.

I ended up helping Billie with some of the work.

She taught me a few things in the kitchen, and I enjoyed talking to her and listening to her tell me all about the men she had fallen in love with and funny stories that had me laughing so many times.

And when it was fifteen minutes before six, I quickly took a shower.

I didn’t dress to impress, just a simple blue casual dress and makeup—if you could count lip gloss as makeup. But by the time I was done, it was a little past six.

I didn’t think Mason would mind that I was ten minutes late to his dinner.

When I entered the dining room, there were about five people. I had expected fewer.

From where I was standing, I couldn’t make out the woman that was sitting in front of my view, but I could see the others.

One had her head angled to the other side, making it hard for me to see her face, while the other was young…maybe about fifteen? She had blonde hair and a petite frame.

The other person was a guy a few years younger than me or a few years older, I wasn’t sure. He looked exactly like the fifteen-year-old girl, so I knew they were siblings.

He had an innocent look on his face and seemed more interested in his phone than the people around him.

Last was Mason in his Armani suit, sitting at the head of the table. I could tell that he was on guard.

He was also tense. I could see it from the way his shoulders were bunched together, from the lines on his forehead, and from the way his eyes had lost all spark.

I was seeing a glimpse of the old Mason in front of me, the one who was merciless and rude.

“Sorry I’m late.” I sought his eyes, but they were expressionless as I approached the table.

My eyes met brown ones, and I was startled before I glanced at someone else.

My breath hitched.

My hands stayed beside me, curled into fists and shaking. My eyes were glued to the one person I hated in the world.

My mother.