Chapter 8

Mason seemed momentarily thrown by Spencer's outburst. He let out a couple of dry laughs and changed the subject. "Alright, alright, I get it. You're saving your purity for your precious Immy. But honestly, this will be the last time you're getting revenge on her, won't it? Aren't we laying everything out in three days?" Spencer's voice was back to its usual cold detachment as he hummed in response. "I've had the divorce papers ready for a while now. In three days, I'll give her the truth alongside the papers. This game will then end." "Sure." Mason's tone shifted, something sly creeping in. "Before that, then... I'll sleep with her one last time. Call it a little 'reward' for my contribution. It'll be the last time anyway." "Suit yourself," replied Spencer. "Just don't go too far." "Relax. I know my limits." Mason sounded rather pleased. Footsteps ensued, marking their departure. Silence settled over the room again. To Suzanne, the silence was even more suffocating than the conversation earlier. Every word was like a poison-tipped needle, driven straight into her heart. Two more days later, the burns on her arm had healed enough. Suzanne was cleared to go home and recover. Spencer personally came to pick her up. On the way home, he was attentive and gentle as always. That night, just like before, he coaxed her into taking her medicine, watched her lie down, then tucked her in. Softly, he told her, "Get some good rest. I'm going to take a shower. I'll be back soon." The lights went out, and the door gently clicked shut. In the darkness, Suzanne lay awake, utterly sleepless. Her body ached, but not nearly as much as the icy dread tightening around her chest. She knew the "one last time" Mason had mentioned would very likely be tonight. Sure enough, before long, the bedroom door creaked open ever so lightly. A figure slipped in soundlessly and approached the bed. The mattress dipped as someone climbed onto the bed. Every muscle in her body locked up. Her heart pounded wildly, but she kept her eyes screwed shut. She focused on keeping her breathing slow and even, pretending to be asleep. The mattress shifted again as a warm presence leaned close. One arm snaked around her waist with practiced ease, while the other hand began to roam restlessly. Beneath her nightgown, calloused fingertips left a trail of goosebumps in their wake, sending shivers down her spine. Hot breath rushed past her ear, laced with the faint scent of tobacco. This was Mason's scent, a stark contrast to Spencer's. His lips descended toward her neck for a kiss. Just before they met her skin, Suzanne flinched as if startled awake. In a weak, nasal voice, she mumbled, "Don't... Spencer. I-I got my period today... I feel awful." The wandering hand stopped abruptly, and its owner stiffened. A voice cut through the stillness of the unlit room. It was deliberately softened to imitate Spencer, yet unmistakably marked by Mason's magnetic, irritable edge. "Period? Why didn't you say so earlier?" He paused, clearly unsatisfied. Then, he tightened his hold slightly before murmuring into her hair, "Alright then. Get some rest tonight. We'll revisit this when you're better." When would she get better? There would be no better. There was no next time. She hummed faintly as a reply, exhaustion heavy in her voice. Mason didn't push further. Yet, he didn't leave. He stayed beside her, trapping her tightly in his arms. His burning lips lingered over her forehead, cheek, and neck. They nibbled and licked away with undisguised desire as his breathing grew labored and hot. His other hand didn't stay idle either. He kneaded her through the thin fabric of her nightgown with unwelcome possession. Suzanne clenched her jaw, repeating to herself over and over again, "Don't let it slip. Don't let him know you know the truth. "If he realizes... You'll have no way out." By morning, she felt Mason slip out of bed. He went up to the window, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. Pulling out his phone, he made a call. "Suzanne's on her period. You'll have to wait a little longer," he said. "When it's over, I'll sleep with her one last time. Then, you can tell her everything." He went silent as the person on the other end spoke. Then, he chuckled. "Honestly, Spencer, why don't you give it a try sometime? I guarantee you she's nothing like the rigid ice beauty you see every day. "It's a completely different experience. It's crazy good." "No, thanks." Spencer's voice came through the speakers quite clearly. Even through the faint static on the line, the icy disdain was evident. "It disgusts me." He continued, "It's daybreak. Make sure you leave before she wakes up. I won't be heading back there for a few days. "I'm taking this time to keep Immy company. Once her period is over in a week, you sleep with her one last time. Tell me when—I'll walk in... and finish what needs to be finished." "Understood," replied Mason briskly, the nonchalance returning to his tone. "You take care of little Ms. Steele. I'll handle things here." The call ended. Mason stood still for a moment, and Suzanne could feel his gaze land on her for a good few seconds. Then came the sound of him grabbing his jacket, opening the door, and leaving. She waited until his footsteps faded completely, until the villa was plunged back into dead silence. It was only then that she snapped her eyes open, gasping for air as though she had just clawed her way out of deep water. Tears spilled without warning, soaking her pillow. However, no sound escaped her lips. Her body shook violently as she wept. At that moment, her phone buzzed on the bedside table, and the screen lit up.