MasonsRule-ARe (24 page)

Being married was looking better and better…

She looked over at the happy couple and the perfect idea struck her. They needed a nudge. Maybe more like a shove. But if they got it in their head that being committed to one another wouldn’t cool things off, they might think taking a chance wasn’t so bad after all.
 

Smiling like the proverbial cat about her idea when Tucker returned, he stopped before he reached her. “I recognize that look. Should I be worried?”

She shook her head. “Nope. You’re off the hook this time as long as you allow me many, many orgasms tonight.”

“We’ll see. After I put that sassy mouth to work in other ways.” He scooped her from her seat and carried her in the direction of the elevators.
 

As for Mason and Becca, she had the perfect plan for them.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Rise and shine buttercup, I’ve got something for you.” He nudged a still sleeping Rebecca, trying to get her up. They slept away half the next day and by the time he finally surfaced, he woke with a jackhammer going off in his head and his body feeling like he beat the hell out of it.

Fucking alcohol. He normally avoided the stuff for good reasons. Chronic headaches, an overload of iron in his blood and alcohol did not mix well.
 

“Leave me alone,” she said, grumbling. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, then good thing for you that’s not what I was talking about. Now be a good girl and roll over.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I could spank you awake. Think that’d work?”
 

“You’re mean. I need more beauty sleep.”
 

That was one thing she didn’t need. She was more beautiful than any woman he met. Even more so when she woke up in the morning all sleepy eyed and eager. Except this morning, in the face of a night of overindulgence she looked neither adorable nor eager. She looked pissed.
 

“I’ve come bearing gifts. Something guaranteed to take away the pain in your head.” That finally got her attention. Enough for her to roll toward him and eye him warily.

“How are you so chipper? Do you not have a hangover?” She grabbed her head and held it still.

“Not anymore. I’ve got years of practice on how to overcome headaches and fatigue. Thanks to a few weak genes from my biological father, I’ve had to learn to adapt and overcome my aches and pains.”

She stared at the glass in his hand. “I’m not drinking that. It looks disgusting.”

“Too bad. I had more than enough made for the two of us.” He shoved the glass into her hand. “Drink up.”

“No.” She slammed the glass down on the nightstand and started to stand.
 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the bathroom. Is that okay or do I need a permission slip?”

Mason grabbed her by the scruff of the T-shirt she wore and dragged her back into bed. “What you need to do is what I said. Drink this and you’ll feel better. Then you can start working on your apology.”

“Jesus Christ, Mason. Can’t we give it a rest for one morning? I’m not in the mood to be bossed around.”

"Give it a rest?" He wanted to be patient but she was pushing his buttons. "Why, because my life and the way I like to live it is just some game to you?"

"I don't know. I can't think straight right now."

"Then drink the damn juice before you get in anymore trouble."

A heavy sigh followed by her grabbing the glass and taking a big gulp. "Is that better?"

Mason heard his cell phone ringing somewhere in the distance and ignored it.

"It will be once you drink it all. Then you can explain to me what's really got your panties in a twist this morning."

"Just go answer your phone. That insistent ringing isn't helping."
 

“This is more important.” Fortunately, the ringing stopped. "Now I can stay here and discover what's eating my submissive."

Rebecca sighed at the same time his phone started ringing again.
 

"Go," she said. "I promise I'll drink it all."

Mason shook his head and walked to the other room. Maybe a few minutes away from her and he'd feel a little less like beating her ass until she couldn't sit. She was yanking his chain this morning and he didn’t know why.

He searched the living room, following the trail of the insistent ring. He finally spied his phone sitting on the study desk on top of a stack of his papers all waiting for his attention. There were still a few important hotel details he needed to take care of.

Odd to find his phone sitting here. He didn’t remember coming in here last night.

He scooped up his phone and checked the caller ID.
V. Knight.
Of course.

"Isn't it a little early for work on a Sunday?" Mason said, barking into the phone.

"We've got problems. They couldn't wait."

Mason immediately shoved his hand into his hair and waited.
 

"It's Nina."

He went on high alert. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"Not really. Gabe contacted me. Tori called him yesterday and asked him to come over right away. He found her in her office with a half gone bottle of tequila."

"Shit."

"Oh, that's not all. She also told him everything. Even said she killed your father."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He slammed the phone down on the table. This was exactly the revelation he feared would happen with her eventually. Then he got comfortable. Now it was happening.

Mason glanced down. The words across the top of the paper sitting there caught his eye.
 

Certificate of Marriage. Tucker must have left—

What the fuck...

He pressed the phone back to his ear. "Hang the fuck on," he said to Victor.

He yanked the paper out of the stack and read it through. It was date stamped last night. But this wasn’t Tucker and Maggie’s marriage certificate. The names listed half way down the page read:

Mason Sinclair and Rebecca Adams.

His chest constricted and the headache he’d calmed roared back to life.
 

He could not be married.
 

“You still there?” He spoke into the phone again.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“Is it possible to get legally married in Vegas in the middle of the night?”

“Oh yeah, the wedding. Fuck, I hate busting up Tucker’s honeymoon but you two need to get back here as soon as possible.”

Mason wasn’t really hearing what his attorney had to say. All he heard was the blood roaring in his ears.”

“Not talking about Tucker,” he said.
 

“What?” Victor yelled into the phone. “What the fuck did you do?”

He winced. “Apparently I got married last night.”

The string of curses from the other side of the phone made Mason hold the phone away from his head. There wasn’t a damn thing Victor could say he wasn’t already saying to himself.

"—bigger problems than you know.”
 

“What did you say? Mason asked.

“I said you’ve got much bigger problems than you know. Fuck. I can’t believe you did this without contacting me.”

“How the hell could I contact you when I don’t even remember doing it?”
 

“Mason, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Rebecca appeared at the doorway, her hair pulled back in an unruly ponytail and her face scrubbed clean. Apparently his new wife wanted to know why he was yelling into the phone.

He held out the incriminating piece of paper to her. She hesitated before reaching for it. He tried to read her body language as she read it.
 

“Goddamn it, Mason. Are you listening to me?” Victor was yelling in his ear.

“Yeah,” he said absently.

“I had her investigated. She’s not who you think she is.”

That got his attention. “What did you say?”

Rebecca swayed, dropping the paper to the floor. He rushed to catch her before she fell.

“Her name isn’t Rebecca Adams. It’s Becca Gunnarson.”

Trying to balance Rebecca with one hand and his conversation with Victor at the same time wasn’t working. He sat her down on the couch, his unease evolving.

Gunnarson. Gunnarson. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“You might remember her sister, Cyndi Gunnarson.” The moment the name left Victor’s mouth, he knew.

They were so fucked.

***

Rebecca stared at the paper on the floor near her feet. Not possible. No way. She racked her memory trying to remember every detail of the night before and came up empty. Some of the details were fuzzy but there wasn’t a single thought about getting married.
 

Married. It couldn’t be.

Mason had taken his phone and left the penthouse. She assumed whatever the caller told him was quite serious. Their yelling had brought her in here to find out what was wrong and he shoved the marriage certificate in her face.

Shit.

What was she supposed to do now?
 

Last night she dreamed of Cyndi and all the details contained in her journal. The scenes with her Master were every bit as intense as what Rebecca experienced with Mason. Even though she knew it was physically impossible for him to be her sister’s unknown Master, her subconscious had placed him in that role, leaving her with a bad mood to go with her headache when she woke.

Her unease grew. Maybe not Mason, but there was a fifty-fifty chance it was Tucker. What good was it going to do her to find out now? She had nothing but a gut feeling over why her sister really died. Was it worth breaking up another family to discover the truth?
 

Maggie’s smile and contagious happiness made her sad to think about. Yesterday, she offered Rebecca a shoulder to cry on without insisting on details and last night she shared what appeared to be the happiest night of her life.
 

They were becoming friends.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
 

Rebecca jumped, the paper falling from her hands. She hadn’t heard Mason return. “Me?”

“Is this some sort of trick?”

She flinched at the rough tone of his question. “Trick for what? What are you talking about?”

“The party’s over Miss Adams. Or should I call you Miss Gunnarson?” He pulled her bag out from behind his back. “Get dressed, we’re going home.”

Rebecca sat there staring at her bag, shock overwhelming her. “Mason.”
 

“Save it. You’ve got fifteen minutes until the driver arrives. Plane leaves in an hour.”

She dared to lift her head and meet his eyes, only to regret it instantly. The repugnance nearly took her breath away.
 

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

He immediately left her alone and she pulled on a pair of jeans in a haze, followed by a T-shirt and her converse sneakers. There was no longer a reason to dress for her Dominant. They might technically still be under contract, but she saw no reason to honor it.
 

Exactly fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. She slung the bag over her shoulder, took one last look at the marriage certificate on the floor and let herself out.
 

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Where the hell is she?” Mason came out of the penthouse bedroom to find a driver standing in the living room and no Rebecca. She told the driver she would meet them at the airport, but when they arrived at the plane, no Rebecca.

“I’m sorry, sir. Her explicit instructions were to tell you she’d meet you and then when we got to the airport to give you this.” The driver pulled out an envelope with the hotel name scrawled across it.
 

Mason turned away from the man to keep from punching him in the face. How could everything go to shit so fast? He tore open the paper and read the one sentence message she left him.

I’ll find my own way home.

She’d run from him. Because she was afraid to face the truth or because the truth was more complex? They were bound by more than a simple contract now. Now he understood why marriage had seemed so important to Tucker. It added a different layer of binding than just a collar or a contract. It was another promise.

She was still his and running away was unacceptable.
 

“What’s going on? Shouldn’t we be taking off by now?” Tucker emerged from the plane with his new bride right behind him.

“Rebecca’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Maggie pushed forward.

Mason shoved the note towards his brother as he ascended the stairs.
 

“Do I want to know what you did to bring about this turn of events?”

“Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway as soon as we take off.”