Page 29 of Born Reckless

“Then I’ll just have to try to keep you entertained today,” he says as he follows me. The words come out like a challenge.

Great.

Just how long is it going to be until I kill my best friend’s brother because I can’t keep my hands, or fangs, off of him?

I severely underestimatedthe power and wealth of the Godfrey family.

When Mason said he had a meeting at noon, he meant that he had a meeting with twelve investors, and he managed to secure a deal worth over one billion dollars. And he talked about it like it was just a negotiation for a pack of hot dogs at a tailgate party.

When the meeting was over, I climbed into the elevator with Mason, and we rose further up the building to the fifty-eight floor. There, we got off and walked down the hallway.

"Do all these people work for you?" I ask as I take in the sights. There are endless rows of cubicles. All along the outside walls, there are glass-enclosed offices. Each and every one of them houses someone who looks powerful and important.

"Yes," Mason answers without hesitation. "Godfrey Industries employees over four thousand people in this building alone. Nearly two hundred of those are like you."

I blink hard, and the number rolls around in my mouth, seeming impossible. Two hundred. Two hundred of the people who work in this building are vampires.

That sounds so impossible. Roman said that Chicago is a mecca for vampires. I never realized that the mecca was a magnet.

"Vampires have to provide a living for themselves, too," Mason says. He slides one hand into his pocket, and I admire the way he walks from behind. I’ve felt like a psycho all day, because I just can’t seem to stop staring. "Elena mentioned that there are different divisions that the Night Council oversees. Elena and I are in charge of the finances and employment of Chicago. It's not always safe for a vampire to go out and get any job. We provide them opportunities. We have an entire division devoted to job placement. If they don't want to work here in the office, we have other places they can go work. The second biggest employer in the city is Roman."

"There are people who choose to work for that asshole?" I question.

"There are certain types of personalities that mesh with his," Mason says. We reach the end of the hall, and Mason pushes the door open. We step inside an office that certainly looks like it was made for a vampire. Everything is black. The ceiling, the walls, the draperies. There are built-in bookshelves along one wall, housing all kinds of documents and books. There is a massive desk dominating the center of the room, and an expensive-looking black leather chair pushed beneath it. Across from his desk, there are two other chairs, just waiting for clients to be seated in them. "Roman tends to employ the more… reckless residents of the city."

Something prickles beneath my skin. Reckless. It's a word that has been used to describe me more times than I can count. A word aimed at me by school principals, social workers, and angry past employers.

I think I'll keep that information to myself. Already, acting as Mason’s bodyguard is boring, but it beats having to work under Roman De Luca.

Mason goes back to work, but I don’t know how he can focus. He made it a challenge to entertain, and I’m annoyed to admit that it’s working.

He pulls his suit jacket off, stretching that white shirt over his broad chest in the process. He rolls his sleeves up his forearms, putting them on display.

He makes calls, his tone commanding and sure. He sits back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head, and every muscle in his body seems to flex.

This is ridiculous. He’s ridiculous.

But he’s winning.

I can’t stop staring. And every feminine part in me is saying that I have no problem with him winning this game.

At five o'clock, the vast majority of the people working in this office leave. But not Mason. He sits at his laptop, tapping away like a maniac. Every five minutes or so, I feel the burn of his gaze upon me. I try to be subtle as I look up at him, but we catch each other staring at least half of the time.

I get some satisfaction out of the fact that I’m not the only psycho here.

What is surprising though, are all the death glares I get throughout the day. There are half a dozen women on this floor who are looking at me like they wish I would just evaporate.

And I realize it has everything to do with the very eligible and powerful bachelor I’m supposedly bodyguarding.

I try not to let that inflate my ego. The golden prince of Chicago could probably have anyone here with the snap of his fingers, but it seems to be me that he’s trying to seduce.

"I'm spent," Mason finally says at eleven PM as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers back into his hair. I quite like the view. His arms bulge against the white fabric of his button-up shirt. He messes up his hair in the best way. "What do you say we order some food and eat at home?"

"I think that sounds like a good idea," I say. My voice comes out a little too low, a little too husky.

The smile that pulls on Mason's mouth sets off a firework in my lower stomach.

He gets up, and together, we walk out of his office.