Page 30 of Born Reckless

As we walk to the elevator, I see that an entirely different group of people has come into the office.

So, this is the night crew. The smell in here is completely different now. It's been burning my throat the entire day, the scent of all the humans around me. I've gone through every bag of blood in the fridge in Mason's office. But now that night has fallen, every one of these people in his office is just like me.

Mason talks to two people on our way out. I don't pay attention, the details of the Godfrey's business doesn't mean much to me. But I realize that he is a kind man. And he's good with people. He talks to them, easy and calm. He doesn't just speak to them about business, he asks about their actual lives, like he cares.

Good grief, the man beside me seems perfect. He's entirely drool-worthy, and he's genuinely a good human being.

How am I ever supposed to behave living in the same space as this man?

Finally, we step into the elevator, and it begins to rise to the penthouse level. Mason leans back against the rail and his eyes scrape over me. "What do you think?" he asks. "Can you handle hanging around me all day?"

I fight the smile that pulls on my mouth. "I'm thinking you must be one of those weirdos who gets turned on by danger."

"You want the bare truth?" he says, his expression slightly more open despite my comment. "It's nice having you around."

It's hard to read the expression on Mason's face. There's plenty of lust, the evidence of our physical attraction written all over his face. But there's something deeper there, too.

But before I can evaluate or question it further, the elevator opens, and I smell her before I see her.

Standing in the middle of the hall, right in front of that glass wall, is Elena. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and from the look on her face, I know things are about to get a little ugly.

My brows furrow as Mason and I step off the elevator.

"What's going on?" Mason asks. He shifts his suit jacket from one hand to the other.

"Juliet, I need to talk to you," Elena says.

It's the first time ever that she has directed this kind of a look at me. And the first time ever, that she has sounded truly angry or annoyed with me.

"What's wrong?" I ask. My stomach is already in a knot.

She doesn't say anything. She simply turns on her expensive heels and heads to the door that leads to her penthouse.

I glance over my shoulder as I begin to follow her, catching Mason's gaze. His brows are furrowed, and he gives a shrug, one that says that he doesn't know what's going on either.

Elena's penthouse is nearly an exact replica of Mason's. It's all decked out in gold and black and white. I don't think there's a single item in here that cost less than one thousand dollars, and that includes the knickknacks that are set out on different shelves. I follow her down the hall, all the way to the living room.

"What is going on?" I demand. "Why do you seem so… livid?"

Elena turns, facing me. She stares at me for several long moments, and there's this look of angry confusion in her eyes. She searches my face, and I get the feeling that she’s searching for the right words.

"You can't fall in love with Mason."

Five long beats stretch out in silence between us while her words register in my brain.

"Excuse me?" Something hard and heavy instantly forms in my chest.

Elena lets out a sigh and turns away from me. Her hands rise to her hair, pushing it back away from her face in anxious frustration. She walks back and forth in the living room.

"I had a plan, okay?" she says. It feels a little bit like a dam has been broken and all of it comes rushing out of her. "I never took an interest in any of the vampires here in Chicago. It would've been convenient if I had, but it just didn't happen. When I was twenty-six, I was sick of the anticipation hanging over my head. I decided it was time to Resurrect."

Unlike me, for Elena, it was a decision. And the morbid part of me wonders how she did it. Somehow, Elena had to end her own life to initiate the process of her Resurrection.

She turns toward me, and her eyes find mine. "The company is just one aspect of it," she continues. "Mason and I are the third generation running this company. We need someone to take it over in the event that what happened to our parents happens to us. But it's not just that. Our position on the Chicago Night Council will be passed down, as well. So, since I never produced any heirs, all of that responsibility falls on Mason's shoulders."

The brief conversation that Mason and I had at the party, the night we met, comes back to me. I didn't really understand it then, but I'm beginning to now.

"Mason deserves to find love. I know that is the way he will do this, even though there are other options if it really gets down to it," she says. Her tone is slightly pained. She doesn't like that this is the way it is, but she's a businesswoman. She accepts when things are the way they have to be. "Mason needs to find that someone. Someone he is going to love for the rest of his life. Or at least for a very, very long time. And he has to produce at least one heir."