I haven’t seen anyone suspect looking yet, but assholes can hide in suits, behind smiles, so who the fuck knows who’s already here.
Three hours pass without incident. Three long fucking hours where I wonder how I’ll get through more of these events. I struggle to keep my eyes off Chelsea. Every time I think I’m good, there she fucking is, popping up talking to another person here. She’s got this schmoozing thing mastered. It’s no wonder her father uses her at these things.
When it’s time for them to leave, Griff and I follow them to the lifts, staying at the back of the group and keeping an eye out for threats.
Hearst places his hand to the small of Chelsea’s back and guides her into the lift. Watching the two of them together tonight has been hell. They’re sickeningly fucking sweet with each other, something the public laps up.
“I’ll go up with them. You stay with Novak,” Griff says. He’s a smart fucking man.
Chelsea’s eyes finally meet mine as the lift door closes, and I’m fucking annoyed with myself for feeling something when they do.
How fucking long will it take to stop wanting her?
We’re up early the next morning and on the road by 7:00 a.m. Novak has appearances throughout the day on the Sunshine Coast, and then this afternoon, we’re heading up to Gympie for a dinner tonight.
We make it through the day without any problems and check into the Gympie motel just before 3:00 p.m. Novak and Hearst hole up in a room together. I overhear Hearst telling Chelsea they aren’t to be interrupted under any circumstance as they have a lot of stuff to go over. She appears to barely pay any attention to him. She then disappears into the room next door.
Hearst’s security guys stay outside the motel rooms while Griff and I check the outside perimeter of the motel. We’ve been out here for an hour when he says, “I’ve gotta make a call. I’ll be back soon.”
He leaves me with my thoughts, which I’m trying like fuck to ignore. It’s a good thing this week is heavy on activity; it’ll help keep me focussed on something other than those thoughts.
I’m in the middle of telling myself to shut my damn brain off when Chelsea exits the motel and walks in the opposite direction of where I am. She’s wearing her running clothes, and I’m fucking wondering who approved her to go running when her husband seems dead fucking set on keeping eyes on the family at all times. The fact no one is with her forces me to check in on her, something I’d rather not fucking do.
“Chelsea,” I call as I head in her direction.
She stops but doesn’t turn to look at me. Not straight away. I’m halfway to her when she finally turns.
“Where are you going?” I ask when I reach her.
“For a run.”
“Hearst know about this?”
She scowls. “I’m not asking him. You heard him. He doesn’t want to be interrupted.”
I have no fucking clue why she’s scowling at me all pissed off when all I did was ask her a question. “Yeah, but you can bet your ass he wouldn’t want you out here by yourself.”
“Well that’s too fucking bad for him.”
I work my jaw. “What’s with the attitude, Mayfair? I’m just trying to do my fucking job here.”
She looks away for a moment before bringing her eyes back to mine. “You need to go home, Mason.”
I agree with her, but it pisses me off that she thinks I can just do that. If it wasn’t for her fucking father and husband, I wouldn’t have to be here in the first place. “Trust me, I fucking wish I could, but I can’t. So how about you do me a fucking favour and go back inside?”
Her glare could kill a man. “For fuck’s sake, fine,” she snaps before stalking away from me, back into the motel.
I watch her go, trying like fuck to keep my eyes off her ass and failing.
It’s going to be a long fucking week.
16
Chelsea
I slam the door to my room behind me as I stalk in after leaving Mason. My body is filled with angry energy that I need to get out, and he’s just killed my attempt at that. I know he’s just doing his job, but still, I’m annoyed with him for stopping me.
Really, though, I’m pissed off with Joe and just taking it out on Mason. It’s safer to take it out on him; Joe is