Page 4 of Freed By Fire
A muscle ticks in Carlisle’s jaw.
Finally, he glances back at me. “I have no idea how she roped you into this, but you’d better be sure you want to go through with this because if whatever you’re planning blows up in our faces….”
I nod uneasily. “I know.”
Carlisle’s gaze moves between the two of us. “I’ll keep an eye on things. He’ll have my head on a platter if anything happens to either of you, especially her.”
Olivia spares me a glance before looking back at him. “That’s not going to happen.”
Carlisle exhales. “This feels a little too familiar.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Olivia says. “Do you remember the concert you helped me sneak off to?”
“I remember being given a shit ton of grunt work for letting it happen on my watch.”
Their gazes meet and hold, and I will my feet to move so that I can look away. A heartbeat later, someone clears their throat, and their tones turn brusque and flat. When I turn to them again, there are a few inches of space between them, and Carlisle’s expression is giving nothing away.
By the time Carlisle leaves, I’ve convinced myself that I need to go straight to Mason before this gets out of hand. One look at Olivia’s face is enough to stop me, especially when she laces her fingers through mine and drags me up the stairs behind her. On the second-floor landing, she glances down both sides of the hallway. Then she releases my fingers and motions to me. I follow her in a daze, ignoring the pictures hung on either side of me.
At the end of the hallway, she stops outside a door and looks at me.
The door creaks open, revealing a canopied bed, a dresser in one corner, and a terrace overlooking the massive grounds. Olivia goes in first, and I place one foot in front of the other until I’m standing in front of the French doors with the early-morning light on my face. My eyes fall shut as I take several deep breaths.
You can do this, London. You’re doing the right thing. Mason will understand.
Olivia taps me on the shoulder, and I do a double-take when I see a red wig in one hand and tight jeans and a tube top in the other.
“We can’t risk them recognizing you,” Olivia says. “I know this isn’t something you’d wear. That’s the point.”
I reach for the wig and grimace. “I’m not sure I can pull this off.”
“That’s why you’ve got me,” Olivia says. “I used to do this a lot. Now, let’s test out the look.”
An hour later, she pushes me into a chair set in front of the full-length mirror. The red curls frame my face, and the top pushes my breasts together, making them seem bigger. When I shift, the jeans chafe my skin, and I ignore the sliver of unease in my chest.
Olivia beckons me to stand and gives me a once-over.
A short while later, I return to Mason’s wing in my usual clothes. My palms are sweaty, and there’s a bad taste in my mouth. Mason is sprawled on the bed, his shirt riding up when I walk into the room. Bright particles of light dance on the hardwood floors, and I stare at them before kicking off my shoes.
The bed dips as I climb onto it and curl around him.
One eye opens and looks at me, and something in me unfurls.
When he looks at me like that, nothing else in the world matters but the two of us.
He has no idea what I’m willing to do for him.
My breath catches in my throat as I reach out to brush his hair out of his eyes. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
Mason opens his other eye and sits up. “There’s too much to do.”
I search his face. “Will there be another lockdown?”
Mason’s expression hardens. “Yes.”
“You can go to the club for a few hours later,” he adds. “For now, it’s business as usual. I don’t want them thinking they’ve driven us into hiding, the smug bastards. If you’re here to ask me about your parents, they’re fine, but I can’t let you go see them.”
I clear my throat and stare down at my hands. “I wasn’t going to.”
