Mason: Bachelors Incorporated, #1

By Allison LaFleur

Is this a mistake? Will working for Mason anger my father? 

Studying him across the table, Mason could have modeled for Calvin Klein. He was that hot. His square jaw, shadowed by a layer of stubble, reminded me of the lead singer of a rock band. His features were sharp, and he had a few gray strands peeking out from a full head of thick black hair. Under his designer suit was a sculpted physique.

Mason exuded a subtle power. He looked at me with an intensity and confidence that I found myself helplessly drawn to.

Closing my eyes, I could still feel those powerful muscles rippling under my fingers. Stumbling and landing in the arms of the stranger who tried to run me over on his way out of the elevator had been a stroke of delicious luck. 

As we dined, my thoughts betrayed me and I kept thinking of how he'd held me that morning with his strong hands. His long fingers would have been perfect for playing a grand piano… or a woman.

 

What happens next? Don't wait to find out... Grab your copy, and start reading today!

Freshly revised and edited, you'll love this first novel from USA Today Bestselling author Allison LaFleur!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Summer Storm Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Oct 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386274445

Book preview

Chapter One

KINSEY

M rs. Webber! I stepped in from the surprise spring storm and shook the rain from my hair as I sprinted toward the kitchen with the fifteen-pound bucket gripped in both hands. As if my wet sneakers squeaking down the echoey corridor weren’t enough to announce my arrival, I shouted, Mrs. Webber! I have ice cream!

Turning right into the kitchen, I skidded sideways and slammed into the steel door frame. Ow. Shrugging the pain off, I ran past the giant grill and straight for the break table, where Mrs. Webber sat staring at the paper with a few of the other volunteers. Mrs. Webber, I panted, I have ice cream.

Mrs. Webber pushed the paper away and groaned as she hoisted herself out of her folding chair. With a huge, sugary smile on her face, she met me before I reached the table. Hi, Kinsey! I wasn’t expecting to see you until next week.

Well, classes are ending, and the cafeteria was emptying the walk-in… freezer… My gaze shifted from Mrs. Webber’s friendly face to the whispering and snickering behind her. When the small group still gathered at the table saw me looking, they glanced down at the paper and then at me again. My stomach turned. Oh. No.

Ice cream, Kinsey? She took the plastic bucket of chocolate swirl from my hands.

My eyes fixed on a headline I couldn’t quite read upside down, I nodded. There are nine more in my car.

Mrs. Webber said over her shoulder, Michael, Bobby… Behind her, two burley teenagers stood from the break table. You two take the cart and go get the ice cream out of the car for Kinsey.

Yes, ma’am, they answered at the same time. On their way out the door, both turned their heads to keep gawking.

That was very kind of you, Kinsey, dear. She lugged the ice cream to the freezer, ignoring the wide eyes and whispers at the table. Classes over, then?

Yeah. Just a couple more finals.

One of the women bent back the corner of the newspaper to see something on the other side. She shifted glances between the paper and me and nodded to the lady next to her.

What’s happened?

Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain began to play in my back pocket, and dread stole my breath away. Making his call wait, I forced my feet across the room to where the paper sat on the table. As the starstruck volunteers stared, I flipped the newspaper over.

HEIRESS DRUNK AND OUT OF CONTROL CARRIED FROM FRAT PARTY ORGY

Below the headline, my image appeared in full color. In my torn jeans and faded t-shirt, it looked like I was staggering my way out of a party with the help of two better-dressed girls in minidresses, but that was a lie. I was the one helping.

My eyes were bloodshot from studying for three days. Carolyn had knocked my ponytail to the side when she hooked her arm around my neck and let me drag her toward the frat house door. When I led them down the front steps, one of Matty’s three-inch heels snapped under her, and she hit me like a wrecking ball, knocking me hard into Carolyn. Grabbing the two of them to keep from falling down, it looked like I was the one being escorted out. The camera flashed at the perfect moment from the perfect angle to make me look like just another spoiled rich kid putting on a show and ruining the family name.

The orchestra in my back pocket stopped as the call went to voicemail, and I could almost see my father’s angry eyebrows as he hung up just so he could make the phone ring again. Seconds later, Night on Bald Mountain started again.

I have to go.

As I ran out the door, Mrs. Webber yelled, Thanks for the ice cream, Kinsey!

Outside the shelter’s back door, the two kids were still taking ice cream from the back of my car. I yanked the cart away from my trunk and shut the lid with half the tubs still inside. Sorry. I gotta go.

I raced back to my apartment, showered, and dressed as fast as I could, but by the time I got back in my car and checked my phone, there were three more calls from my father. I should have answered and promised him I was already on my way to his precious lunch, but I was afraid of what he’d say about my frumpy face on the cover of the paper.

The rain had stopped by then. Rehearsing my excuses in the safety of my little, rusty Corolla, I gripped the wheel and sped as fast as I could from one stop sign to another. "I left my studies to rescue people you make me be friends with to impress—"

Screeeeech!

The old tires skidded on the pavement as I slammed on the brakes to avoid a little brown ball of fur darting across the narrow side street. Yanking the wheel right made the car hop up on the curb and smash grill first into a faded yellow fire hydrant, which erupted on contact, spraying water twenty feet in the air.

My jaw dropped, and I panted behind the wheel, trying to make sense of what had just happened. What the hell?

The gushing water was so loud, I almost didn’t hear the small cry coming from across the street. When it finally registered, I climbed out of the car and followed the noise to a small lump of fur on the other side of the street. There, with its nose buried in its paws and its back leg stretched at an unnatural angle, a puppy cried up at me.

I gasped. Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! When I reached out to pick it up, the trembling pup snapped. Pulling my hand back just in time, I shook my head as I looked him over. He was in awful shape. In addition to the broken leg I’d probably caused, something had been gnawing at his ears, and he was so skinny I could see his ribs through his baby fur. What can I do?

As I pondered that, the phone in my car began to play my father’s song again. I need to call for help. I’ll be right back.

Kicking my black heels off to run back to the car, I pulled out the phone, declined my father’s call, and searched for emergency animal services. As the call rang, I took an old blanket and one of the melty tubs of vanilla ice cream from the trunk and carried them both over to my victim.

Looking away from the run up the front of my black nylons, I lay the blanket over the little dog’s back and settled down on the curb beside him. Popping the top off the ice cream, I tipped it on its side and let some of the soft vanilla spill out on the tar by his face. He sniffed it for a moment before raising his worried eyes to me.

On the phone, the line clicked, and a hurried woman said, Urgent Animal Care. Can you hold please? I didn’t get a chance to answer before the hold music kicked in.

You eat it, I told the pup. No chocolate in this one. It’s fine.

He sniffed it again, and his tongue poked out from his mouth, but he didn’t dare take a lick.

Like this. I scooped two fingers through the melty white and raised the wet mess to my mouth. Watch. Putting it in my mouth, I smiled wide and swallowed. Then I scooped some more up on my fingers and held it up for him. It’s delicious.

The whiskers over his little eyes arched up, and his nose twitched as he sniffed the vanilla. His pink tongue flicked out, barely touching the ice cream. It disappeared back in his mouth for moment, and then he plunged his nose into the pile of ice cream and began to devour it.

I sat at his side, staring at the water raining down on my broken car, listening to the hold music, and shoveling drippy vanilla ice cream into my face.

Chapter Two

MASON

"Mason, problems. Call me."

More than a dozen panicked messages waited on my desk by the time I got back from the gym. The neat line of yellow notes with Mary’s perfect penmanship escalated in urgency from left to right, ending in full-blown panic.

Mason! Huge issues! Production delayed! CALL ME!

I glanced at my watch. It’s late in China. You think he’d still be reachable.

Smiling at me from across the desk, Mary clasped her hands in front of her. I don’t think he’s asleep, if that’s what you mean. Not the way he sounded on the phone. According to her tidy notes, he’d called every five minutes. He didn’t say what’s wrong?

I asked, but he says he has to tell you directly. She stepped up to my desk and held out my cell phone. When I saw it on your desk, I put it on the charger. It should be good to go.

I took it with a sigh and a shake of my head. It was so late when I left—

I know, Mason. Her smile widened. No need to explain.

Thanks, Mary. As she left my office, I sat down at my desk and made the call with my guts in my throat.

What the hell is going on in China?

He picked up on the first ring. Mason! Thank God you called! Carl’s voice was hoarse. It’s a disaster here. We’re already a week behind schedule.

Slow down, Carl. I could barely understand him. What’s going on?

Half the workers have called out sick, the other half are barely on their feet, and the assembly line is a mess. There’s a group picketing out front, calling for an overhaul of the Chinese workers’ rights system. The police are everywhere. Everyone is working scared. There’s no way to meet our deadlines!

Every hair on my body stood on end, but I hid my own concern for his sake. What are the workers sick with?

I don’t know. Bird flu, maybe? They’re running fevers and vomiting. The factory stinks! The machines need clean--

I’ll call you right back, Carl. Bile rose up my throat.

Mason! he shouted. "What do you want me to do right now?"

I stood from my desk and walked across the room to stare out the glass wall at blue sky, gray and black skyscrapers, and green park below. Shut it down.

Carl took a moment to respond. Shut it down?

I pressed my forehead against the glass, wishing I could be down there, communing with the grass and trees. Unreachable in nature. Completely unreachable. We can’t make these video cards in a dirty factory, can we, Carl? Disinfect and sterilize everything. Service the machines, if you have to. I’ll get back to you with further instructions.

What am I supposed to do about--

I ended the call and immediately dialed the only friend I had who might know what to do.

He picked up on the third ring. Mason.

Noah. At the sound of his voice, my shoulders relaxed. No matter what he was, he always sounded like I’d caught him sipping whiskey on his private yacht. I could almost see the sunlight on his silver hair. Do you have time to meet today?

On short notice? Must be serious.

I leaned back against the glass and looked up at the ceiling. About half-my-net-worth serious.

I see. He cleared his throat. It just so happens my daughter has proven herself a disappointment yet again, clearing an hour of my previously booked schedule. Come by, and I’ll have the new girl fix drinks.

I didn’t care about new girls or drinks, but I was damned lucky to get Noah Hendrix’s undivided attention with just a phone call. Thanks, Noah.

Chin up, Mason. There’s an opportunity in every disaster.

The call ended, and I grabbed my keys and walked out the office door, pausing at Mary’s desk. When she looked up from the screen, I pointed to the elevator. Could you please call my car? I have a meeting with Noah Hendrix.

She glanced down at the copy of my schedule she kept on her desk.

Impromptu.

She nodded. Of course, Mason.

I walked across the small lobby outside my office to the elevator and pressed the button. As the doors opened, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Shit. I stepped on and checked the new message as the operator pressed the down button.

Mom: Come to dinner at Marc’s tonight.

Mom: Bring wine.

Christ. This again? My thumb poked out a message as I bit my tongue.

Me: I already told you I can’t make it. I have a business to run.

Mom: Don’t be late!

Me: I recommend you start without me.

I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and tried to ignore the buzzing as she flooded my inbox. Halfway to the ground floor, I gave up and dug it back out.

Mom: We won’t.

Mom: No one will eat until you get there.

Mom: If you don’t want us to starve to death, you better show up.

I groaned.

Me: I’ll try.

It buzzed again.

Mom: You better.

Chapter Three

KINSEY

Y ou’re late, Kinsey. Frost dripped from my father’s voice as he stared out his office window at the clouds hovering over the skyline.

Hi, Dad. I joined him and stretched up on my tiptoes to air kiss both of his cheeks. I am so sorry I’m late. I was right on schedule, but—

You’re late. He looked me over and scowled. And you’re filthy.

I looked down at my baby-blue dress and wiped at the mud and blood spots down the front. There was an emergency, and—

I needed you here, Kinsey! He took the seat behind his desk, and I stood by the window with my head hung. Sit down.

I’m sorry. As I dragged my feet to the leather chair across from him, he drummed his fingers on the highly misleading picture of me on the cover of the newspaper. That’s not what it looks li—

Sit!

My heart in my throat, I shut my mouth and did as he said.

What the hell were you playing at last night? How could you let them photograph you like… He scowled in disgust. ...like this?

Scooting to the edge of my chair, I reached across the desk and pointed at the horrible picture. That’s Matty and Carolyn, who you told me to make friends with because their fathers are heads of--

I didn’t tell you to make a scene like this, Kins—

"I was trying to prevent a scene! I was home studying when I got a call they were in trouble, and I—"

Enough! My father’s icy blue eyes grew colder as he stared me in quiet frustration. Do you know our stocks have slipped a hundred points this morning? How much further do you think they’ll drop when word gets out I cancelled a meeting with the Chinese ambassador?

I whispered, looking down at my feet. I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone saw me. It won’t happen again.

You’re right. It won’t happen again. He sighed, rubbing the tension lines in his forehead. I don’t care why you were there. No one does. They just need a scandal for the headline... and you make it easy for them.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I fought them back. My father had no time for crying. What can I do?

First of all, you can get a job and pay that ridiculous credit card bill.

But I have a job! I worked this morning.

Get a real job. He opened a folder on his desk and stared down at a spreadsheet of seven-digit numbers. One that pays your rent. I’m done bailing you out.

I jumped to my feet and came around to his side of the desk. I can’t work that much! I’m in school!

He turned his head toward the window, preferring the overcast sky to his only child. If you will not support the family business, the family business will not support you.

Stunned, I stepped back and snorted a laugh. You’re not serious. I grabbed the handset from his desk phone. We’ll just call and tell him I had and accid—

Too late. He snatched the phone from my hand and set it back on the receiver. I have another meeting in ten minutes.

Dad, I’ll be homeless if you cancel my credit card.

If you can’t afford to live on your own, you can move back home and follow the rules.

A vision flashed before my eyes of curfews and compulsory public appearances. He’d probably start introducing me to the sons of his business associates again. He’d make me stop school so I could focus on making someone a decent society wife. But I’m twenty-two.

Yes, he grumbled, turning back to his spreadsheets. High time you start acting it.

But—

He picked up the spreadsheet and walked it back to the window he’d been staring out when I arrived. "I’ve arranged with my assistant to bring me a sandwich. At least she can keep a schedule."

The dam inside me broke, and tears streamed down my cheeks. Dad—

You can go, Kinsey. He licked his thumb and flipped the page. We’re done here.

---

MASON

In the lobby of Hendrix Biotech, my head spun with a dozen doomsday scenarios, all involving China and a crippling hit to my net worth. I believed in my technology, put everything I had behind it, and everything I’d managed to build since Noah took me under his wing a decade ago was on the verge of being wiped out by a by a flu outbreak on the other side of the world. My head full of fear and frustration, when the elevator doors opened, I stepped directly into the path of lithe, blonde bolt of angry energy.

Oof! Her nose bounced off my chest, and she stepped back with a quick breath. Teetering on her