Elevator Games

LAUREN

When we returned to the hotel before dinner and took the elevator up. My legs were aching, and all I wanted was to eat something and then collapse into bed.

Mason and I were leaning against the elevator wall, his arm casually slung around my waist. I was half-standing, half-leaning into his comforting presence.

He gently untangled himself from me, helping me stand up straight before he moved over to the elevator buttons. He pressed a yellow one and the elevator jolted to a stop. The doors stayed firmly shut.

With his back against the buttons and his hands hidden behind him, Mason turned to face me.

“How about a game?” he suggested.

“Now?” I asked, surprised. I knew he was a man that faced little consequence, but stopping the elevator at the best hotel in Paris to play a game on a whim seemed to be crossing a line.

He moved in closer, his head dipping until his warm breath brushed against my neck.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” he said.

“But we’re in the elevator.”

His body pressed against mine, making my head spin. “I thought we were in our room.”

“What kind of game are you playing?” I asked, noticing the spark of excitement in his eyes.

He kissed the back of my ear, sending a shockwave through me. His body held me close as he whispered in a husky voice, “What do you want to win?”

“Seriously? You’ll give me anything I ask for?”

He nodded, not missing a beat.

“Even if I win, anything?” I tried to suppress a moan as he found a sensitive spot on my neck.

“You have my word. What do you want, Lauren?”

“Answers. Honest answers,” I said without a second thought.

He didn’t seem surprised. In fact, I had the sudden feeling that I was walking right into a trap he’d set.

He grinned at me. “Okay.”

“And what do you want?” I asked, watching his face closely.

His predatory expression made me wary. And when I get wary, it’s usually for a good reason.

“You’ll find out,” he said, smirking.

“You’re not going to win.” It was a weak comeback, especially since I could see my impending defeat written all over his face. Whatever game he was playing, I knew it would benefit him more than me.

Mason never played fair.

His fingers traced a path up and down my arm, stirring up a storm inside me.

“Lauren, I didn’t ask you to play with the intention of losing. Make no mistake, love, I always get what I want.”

My breath hitched as his words sent a wave of heat through me.

And when he added a gentle bite to my earlobe, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to turn and kiss him when he suddenly stepped back.

“Actually, let’s not play now.”

He hit the elevator button again and we started moving upwards.

I shot him a glare, feeling dizzy from the sudden loss of contact.

When the doors slid open, I stepped out. Mason followed closely behind me, his broad hand never leaving the small of my back. When we reached the door to our suite, Mason swiped the key card and swung the door open.

When I stepped across the threshold, I stopped dead in my tracks and let my mouth open in shock.

The entirety of the sitting room was covered in shopping bags from every fashion designer I ever heard of, including a few that I didn’t even recognize. Chanel, Dior, Saint Laurent, Louis Vuitton, brands that I had only ever dreamed of owning one day.

I never in a million years imagined that I would be able to dress head to toe in designer fashion. I didn’t really pay too much attention to it, but it felt so amazing to be pampered.

“Mason, what is all of this? How did you even have time to buy all of this?” I asked, trying to keep myself from squealing in delight.

“I had some personal shoppers go out to buy you a whole new wardrobe while we were out exploring,” he said.

“How did they even know my size?” I asked as I pulled out a gorgeous form fitting silk gown with hand-beaded detailing.

“I have my ways,” Mason smirked, watching me as I made my way around the room, collecting beautiful garments along the way.

“You know what this means, right?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

“We need to have a fashion show!” I cried in excitement. “I’m going to try on this dress and you’ve got to take a picture I can send to Beth!”

Mason chuckled. I loved seeing the spark in his silver eyes and he watched me disappear into the bedroom.

When I returned, Mason stood in the center of the room holding a large red box in his hands. His eyes scanned me as I approached him, taking in how perfectly the delicate material laid over me, accentuating and lifting my best features. He seemed awestruck, as though he didn’t have the words to describe what he was seeing.

Suddenly, I felt self-conscious. Maybe the dress didn’t look as good as I thought it did. Maybe he was speechless because he didn’t know how to let me down easily.

“What?” I asked, fear creeping into my voice. “Is it too much? Does it look bad?”

“No,” Mason said with a force that took me by surprise. “You look amazing. You look exactly how I always picture you.”

“You always picture me in a red carpet gown?” I asked, blushing.

“I always picture you as the best version of yourself, the person you already are,” Mason said. “Now, the dress is only accentuating what I already see every time I look at you.”

I stared at him, shocked by the intensity of what he said. I had no idea he thought so highly of me, I could have been fooled by the way he initially spoke to me when we first met.

“What’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the box he held and trying desperately to change topics before I started to overthink too much about the way he was looking at me.

“Oh,” Mason said, suddenly remembering the package he held in his hands. He held it towards me. “This is my personal gift to you. I know the personal shoppers have their finger on the pulse of current fashion, but I picked this out specifically for you. I’d love you to wear it to dinner tonight.”

I took the box from his hands and brought it to the bedroom. I sat on the bed and lifted the box onto my lap. A gasp escaped my lips when I opened it to find the most beautiful dress.

It was a light blue, off-the-shoulder number with a V-neck adorned with flowers down to the waist. The length was just right, stopping just above my knee, and it looked like it would fit my curves perfectly.

“It’s beautiful Mason,” I breathed.

“It will be even more so with you wearing it,” he said. “I’ve got some last minute things to attend to, so I’ll leave you to get ready. We have a reservation at 7:30, Coop will be outside waiting for you when you’re done getting ready. I expect you to be there on time.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Mason smiled and turned to leave. The moment I was sure he was out of earshot from the room, I leaped onto the bed and squealed with joy as I bounced up and down.

I grabbed my phone, quickly snapped a picture and sent it to Beth. Her reply came back instantly.

Beth

OMGOMG!🤯🤯

Lauren

I know! Mason asked me to wear it and meet him in an hour.

Beth

Holy shit, I’m officially deceased. Can I tell him he doesn’t have to try because you’re already in love with him?

Lauren

🖕

Beth

Omg Lauren…do you know what else you’re getting tonight? 🍆 🍆

Lauren

I hate you.

Beth

Please, tell me you have panty-dropping lingerie. This is why you shouldn’t go anywhere without telling your best friend 🤦🏼‍♀

Lauren

I have a thong……that he bought me.

Beth

😂 You better work that thong, or I’ll hunt you down and murder you.

Lauren

I’m actually scared. What do I even do?

Beth

Take what you want, babe. Get that man and don’t leave until you make him yours. Gotta go now. Can’t wait to hear the deets. Don’t break the bed.

I laughed to myself. What a classic Beth move, the girl really had no shame and that’s why I loved her. I tossed my phone onto the bed and rushed into the bathroom to try on the dress Mason bought me.

Before I could even get out of the first dress, I heard my phone ringing in the other room. I rolled my eyes. What was so important that Beth had to call rather than just text? She must have thought of the perfect sexual innuendo and she wanted me to hear it.

Taking the last steps over to the bed, I grabbed my phone and answered without even thinking.

“You better not be calling just to tell me how to wear my thong, Beth,” I said.

“Hi, sorry, is this Lauren Hart?” An unfamiliar voice asked through the phone.

~Oh my god, did I really just tell a stranger about my thong?~

“Yes, this is she,” I said, trying to put on my most professional voice. I had a lot of ground to make up after that first comment.

“I’m calling about your father, Vincent Hart,” the voice said.

My blood ran cold. There could only be one reason why someone other than Becky was calling me about dad.

I listened to the disembodied voice on the other end of the line as it explained next steps. I tried to process what they were saying, but the words just didn’t make any sense. Then, the voice said the words.

The words I never, ~ever~ wanted to hear.