Visions. Part 22

Fate, magic, or a pure miracle had led Mayson to the club, and to the bench, that night.

Another sob snapped out. This time, laughter bubbled with the sound.

Excitement raced through her. Mayson wanted her. A billionaire who could buy anything her heart desired, wanted Paige. She'd gone to desperate measures to give Paige what she wanted. To show Paige her fantasy could be reality.

And she was a hero, who used her money for the well-being of others.

She wanted Paige.

Did Paige want her? Was she capable of want? Was she capable of love?

Yes. She was. She could feel it fluttering with life in her gut, in her heart.

She wanted Mayson. Wanted the billionaire. Wanted everything she stood for.

Had Paige f.u.c.ked it all up? Had she pushed Mayson away?

Without an ounce of hesitation, Paige pulled up her blog and let her fingers fly.

Mayson had never been so tired in her life. Okay, she had, but not when her stomach was knotted and her heart was heavy.

It'd been six days since she was hurled into the sky on her private jet. Though she'd barely had time to even take a water break, she'd had one hundred and forty-four hours to regret not telling Paige the truth.

She could have. On the beach. At her house. In a note. At the club. Anywhere. From the minute she figured out the truth. She had numerous chances to tell Paige who she was. Yet she hadn't. She'd chosen to keep the game going. Chosen to continue to give Paige exactly what she wanted, terrified the truth would push her away once again.

A bulldozer rumbled from several feet away. That loud sound was all she'd heard for the past forty-eight hours. Yet despite the chaos around her, despite the devastation, despite the cries from survivors, all she could hear were the sounds of Paige's release. No matter how hard she worked, no matter how fast she worked, those sounds followed her, tortured her.

She'd been moving nonstop after trailing in on the tail of Elena, rus.h.i.+ng to unload the cargo, to set up camps amidst horrific sights. Homes, schools, even the local hospital, all gone. Parents and family members had grieved. And no matter what images of reality faced her, Paige had the power to overtake them all.

A child rushed past her, and Mayson managed a smile. She followed his departure to see more children running through the chaos like children do. Give a kid a ball and they forgot they didn't have a place to lay their heads. They could bring joy and excitement to the most devastated situations.

She thought of Paige kicking that d.a.m.n ball around the park.

They both were on the same page, both out to help those who needed a handout. So why couldn't they both be on the same page with life? More importantly, with love?

Was Paige capable of love? Had her childhood misfortunes swept away her desire to care, to be loved? Was she content looking for and finding s.e.x for the rest of her life?

Mayson couldn't pretend to know what it felt like to be unwanted. Couldn't pretend to know how Paige felt to be abandoned by people who should love her, especially a mother. But she'd sure like the chance to make Paige part of her own family, to make her feel love.

She wanted Thanksgiving dinners with her parents, grandparents, and the friends they'd acc.u.mulated over the years, all packed under one roof. She wanted to open Christmas presents with her, to kiss her on New Year's, to celebrate the Fourth of July with goofy star-shaped gla.s.ses and fireworks. Both in and out of bed.

She wanted to spend the rest of her life making Paige feel wanted.

Her gut told her she was too late. That Paige would reject her. Paige wanted the mystery. She wanted Vinden. Her departure in the middle of the night, after all they'd shared with skin against skin, proved that.

Seemed Paige only wanted the game. Mayson didn't think she had it in her to be that for Paige any longer. Not when she could be everything her heart desired out from behind her mask. She wanted Paige to want her for who she was. It was obvious she didn't want Mayson for what she had. Paige couldn't care less about her money. Mayson adored that about her. Paige was that diamond in the rough. She'd found her. Twice. Three times.

Now, it was all over.

Out of habit, she pulled the cell phone from her pocket. Nothing. No signal. No bars. Her satellite phone had been missing since they entered the port. Not that she'd had time to actually miss it, but G.o.d, how she missed Paige. Missed the connection, even if only through a blog.

She wanted to read her thoughts. Wanted to know if Paige missed her. Even if she only missed Vinden, Mayson wanted to know.

Had Paige unraveled the riddles? The final riddle? If only she'd unveiled Mayson before disaster called her away. She'd been so close to finding out exactly what Paige would do.

G.o.ddammit. She wanted to touch her. Kiss her. Make love to her.

So badly it twisted her stomach in knots.

"We got signal, Mayson." Eric interrupted her thoughts.

Excitement and dread choked her. One way or the other, she had to tell Paige. Through her blog, email, Mayson didn't care. She had to get this off her chest. It was a coward's way out, but she couldn't function another minute with this unpleasant weight tearing up her thoughts.

Mayson made her way to the trailer set up as the main headquarters and dove on the laptop. She went directly to Paige's blog, bypa.s.sing business matters.

Paige deserved to know the truth. That Mayson was her mystery woman. That she hadn't abandoned her, no matter what her decision was.

There were several new blogs on Paige's website. Mayson tried to resist reading them, fearful that the Internet would vamp out before she could send a message. But she couldn't help herself. She needed to know what Paige had been thinking. What she'd been feeling.

h.e.l.lo, Vinden. Or do you prefer Mayson?

Mayson drew in an unsteady breath while her heartbeat galloped.

Paige had finally figured it out. She'd finally ripped off Mayson's mask.

I, too, wanted you where hopes went up and the pennies came down.

I, too, fell in love with you 366 miles away.

I have now unveiled you.

I'm ready for our next adventure. Without your mask.

Come get me.

X...Paige

Chapter Sixteen.

Paige hid in her office, away from the girls, away from Sam. She couldn't think straight, couldn't function without wanting to hit something.

Another day had gone by without a word from Mayson. She'd called her out. She'd unveiled her.

Mayson's silence told Paige everything.

She was done with the game. She was done with Paige.

Why the f.u.c.k had it taken Paige so long to figure out the riddles? Why had she pushed away the facts? That Mayson was begging for Paige to rip off her mask?

Dammit. She'd f.u.c.ked up any possibility of them having a decent future. She'd f.u.c.ked away every sleepless night of s.e.x with Mayson. Every walk on the beach. Everything. She'd f.u.c.ked up everything.

Again, she checked the blog. Nothing. Even her regular readers had gone quiet. Were they, too, waiting to see how this new scenario unfolded?

She could almost hear them collectively holding their breath.

With a quickening of hope, she checked the phone. Nothing. Not a f.u.c.king word.

Down the hallway, she could hear the voices of reporters. Every TV in the club had been tuned in to the chaos, tuned in to Mayson and her crew.

Paige couldn't take it anymore, which was why she'd been hiding out, ridiculously addicted to checking the phone and the blog.

What now? What the h.e.l.l was she supposed to do now? She had no desire to dance. No desire to do a d.a.m.n thing other than buy a plane ticket to Jamaica, crawl across the destruction if she had to, and find Mayson. She had to see her. Had to talk to her.

f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k. This was torture. She was doing it to herself. This was self-inflicted pain caused by her selfish needs. Why did she have to do everything in life with a vengeance? She hated the same way. With a vengeance. Which was exactly why Mayson had finally thrown in the towel. She surely thought Paige a total b.i.t.c.h, unworthy of her time.

Would she ever see Mayson's face again? Why did it turn her stomach inside out to think that Mayson didn't want anything to do with her?

Sam rapped on her door. "Paige?"

"I'm busy, Sam." Paige tapped her foot on the floor, ready to jump out of her skin.

Maybe she should grab a bottle of tequila, drive home, and get drunk. Drown her sorrows in the fiery spirit. She didn't care about tomorrow's hangover. Didn't care about missing her routine tonight. The girls could manage without her. They were doing a d.a.m.n good job without her already.

Sam entered despite Paige's dismissal. "Someone is here for you."

A surge of excitement rumbled through Paige. "Who?" She pushed out of her chair and started across the room.

"I didn't ask his name."

His? Paige grumbled. It wasn't Mayson.

She followed Sam into the club and found a tall black man, hat in one hand, brown box with aqua blue ribbon in the other, standing rigid straight by the front doors.

"I'm Paige. Can I help you?"

"h.e.l.lo, Miss Burton. I'm here to take you to your next adventure."

Mayson!

Paige could barely breathe. Her heart swelled and her insides ached.

Love. This feeling, these harsh emotions, were love.

She was in love with a billionaire.

But not just any billionaire. A billionaire who gave up part of her life to help others.

The man held the box out to Paige. "Miss Montgomery asked me to give this to you. You're to open it before we leave."

Paige took the box, b.u.t.terflies choking the life out of her.

She tore off the ribbon and jerked off the lid. Inside, she found a pair of leather work gloves and a note.

Wouldn't want you to get those pretty hands dirty. Your next gift awaits. If you dare.

Paige glanced up at the man, biting back tears of excitement.

She spun around to face Sam.

Sam only grinned. "I got the gist, idiot. Go!"

Paige spun back around and took two steps before she remembered the evil orange cat. "Damien? Can you take care of him for me?"

Sam arched a brow. "I consider him a gift. Now get the h.e.l.l out of here!"

Without a second thought of doubt, Paige followed the man to a black limo. On the seat she found another present.

She quickly tore into it while the driver pulled away from the club. T-s.h.i.+rts. At least two dozen. In almost every hue of the rainbow.

Another note. Sorry, didn't have time to shop for Salvation Army hand-me-downs.

Paige smiled. She felt like a giddy teenager. Alive. Elated. So full of adrenaline she feared a squeal was about to rush past her lips.

When the driver veered off the freeway, Paige leaned forward. "Sir? Where are we going?"

He tipped a gaze at her through the rearview mirror. "My instructions were to take you to your home to retrieve your pa.s.sport."

Pa.s.sport? Where the h.e.l.l did Mayson think she was sending Paige? And why didn't it matter? Lucky for Mayson, and especially for Paige, she happened to have one. For six years now. Her decision to vacation in New Orleans hadn't been her first option. It hadn't been an option at all. But thanks to an error on the airline's side, they'd mistakenly booked her on a flight to New Orleans instead of Jamaica, where she longed to visit the home of a legend, Bob Marley, her grandmother's favorite musician. She'd talked about him nonstop and their home was always filled with the sounds of reggae.

Ironically, the museum for Bob Marley she'd planned to visit in honor of her grandmother and her love for his music was in Kingston, Jamaica, the very soil Mayson was now rebuilding.

Had fate made that error possible all those years ago? Had fate lead her to the Big Easy, to a masked party, and directly to Mayson?

After retrieving the pa.s.sport from her house, Paige stared out the window from the edge of her seat all the way to Mayson's beach house, down the driveway where the gate was already open.

When the driver continued past the house, along the drive leading toward the back of the mansion, Paige sat up. "Where are we going?"

"To the helipad, ma'am."