Page 39 of Mason

My “welcome to the company” gift sits to the far left of my Daylight Holdings coffee mug, a gold-plated hourglass with the sLucas “Time is Money” etched onto the surface. Predictable.

“I am one third owner of this company, Lucas,” Mason says, voice rising. “You would be wise to remember that.” I lift my gaze just as Mason begins to pace. His leather shoes leave imprints in the plush carpeting with each back and forth step. The tension is so thick you could use a chainsaw and still not hack through it. A growl rumbles from his throat. “Make. The fucking. Trade.”

My back stiffens at his tone.

I tap away at my keyboard, trying to look busy, but if Lucas doesn’t flip the switch on this transaction, Daylight Holdings stands to lose millions of dollars. I completed the research myself, which is probably why Mason’s partners are hesitant to pull the trigger.

Another throaty growl from Mason. “She has nothing to do with this. These accusations need to stop.”

Now I know he’s talking about me, and my gut begins to churn. It’s not often I cross paths with Lucas and Holden, but they make their disgust clear whenever it happens. Holden doesn’t look at me, Lucas ignores my attempts at small talk, and as evidenced by this phone conversation, neither of them respects my work.

Even when the research is good. Like this particular transaction.

Mason knows I’m right or he wouldn’t have sanctioned the trade.

My computer pings, alerting me to the impending deadline. I tap my screen, drawing Mason’s attention. He nods. “Lucas, listen. We’ve got about two minutes here. We can argue about your concerns another time. Right now, I need you to authorize this fucking deal.”

I hold my breath.

The clock ticks down. Five, four…

Mason mumbles something into the phone, and then slams down the receiver. Two seconds later, I get confirmation that Lucas signed off on the deal. Daylight Holdings is up three million bucks—a drop in the bucket for the company, but still, my chest swells with ridiculous pride.

I breathe out slow relief, but my shoulders still ache with tension. It bugs me that Mason’s partners have such a low opinion of me. And based on what? “Do you think Lucas and Holden will ever warm up to me?”

Mason’s head pivots. “What matters is your performance as my personal assistant,” he says, with cool reserve. Clearly I’ve touched a nerve. “Their opinions of you are irrelevant.”

My heart pings off my rib cage. “For now, I guess. But what about when I make the jump to day trader?”

“We’re nowhere near that stage,” he says.

I lick my lips, carefully choosing my next words. While Mason never indicated a timeline for my review, I’m proud of the work I’ve accomplished—I’m first to arrive, last to leave, continuously checking the stock markets, predicting trends, keeping an eye out for a deal that will demonstrate my growing “killer instinct.” I’ve proven myself. At least, I think I have. “You still find me lacking?”

Mason’s eyes flash and he stalks across the room, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me toward him, and before I can even utter a gasp of protest, I’m bent over his desk with my skirt and panties around my ankles. Good God. My palms splay across the surface of the glass.

His hand slides down the back of my thigh. “You lack patience,” he says, skimming his fingertips across my buttocks. “I told you that you must earn your position. I’ll decide when you’re ready. Can you manage to retrain yourself until that time?”

He presses his groin up against my thighs and swivels his hips.

I go instantly wet. “Yes,” I whisper.

Mason’s response is a low throaty chuckle. “Good. As you know, I have a particular fondness for restraint.”

There is a rustling of movement as he removes his belt, and then quickly wraps it around my wrists, tying them together before cinching it tight. The rough leather digs into my skin.

At once Mason is behind me again, and before I can clinch my butt cheeks in preparation, his palm connects with my naked ass. I bite my lip so as not to cry out as the sting ripples all the way up my spine. He spanks me again, this time harder. His hand lingers for a brief second, fingers trailing dangerously close to my pussy.

“Again,” he says, and I close my eyes, bracing for whatever comes next. My skin hums under his touch. I chew on the inside of my cheek hard. It shouldn’t, but my arousal grows stronger with each swift paddle.

He leans close, pressing his hard cock into me. His breath whispers across my neck. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Liv.” My mouth goes dry. “But as always, you have taken your punishment well.”

I release a juddering breath.

His hands move to my waist and he spins me around. Blood rushes to my head. He grabs my ass and lifts me onto the cool desk.

He wheels around his chair and plunks down. “Now for your reward.”

I tilt my head back. Sweet Jesus, thank you. He pries my legs apart, and breathes deep. “I could bury my face in this sweet pussy all day, baby.”