CHAPTER THREE
1102 Words
**Mason Stones**
The café was quiet. Only a few people sat at scattered tables. Soft music played in the background. The late afternoon sun shone through the windows, making patterns on the floor.
Mason Stones sat alone at a corner table. He held a cold cup of coffee. His hands were steady, but his eyes looked tired. His shirt was old and worn, but clean. His jacket was folded over the chair. A scar ran faintly along his jawline, half-hidden beneath two days’ worth of stubble.
He glanced at his phone. It buzzed again. He didn’t answer. Not today.
The café door opened with a soft bell. Mason looked up.
Ryan Salvador walked in. She moved with purpose. Her heels clicked on the tile floor. She looked calm but strong. Her hair was pulled back tightly. Her eyes were sharp and steady.
She didn’t hesitate. She saw him instantly.
Mason stood as she approached. He looked taller than she remembered from the photo. Lean and fit. His face had small lines now—signs of long nights and hard days. Eyes like steel, thoughtful but guarded.
“You Mason Stones?” Ryan asked, her voice quiet but firm.
“That depends,” Mason said with a small smile. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m Ryan Salvador.” She slid into the seat across from him without waiting. “I need your help.”
Mason studied her. She was the kind of woman used to being in control. She had power in her posture and her eyes. Not the kind that begged. The kind that offered deals with sharp edges.
“I don’t usually help CEOs,” Mason said. “Especially ones who want to fake a marriage. It's all fake at the end of the day.”
Ryan smiled, just a little. “Sounds like you know the game well. A game master at that.”
“I did,” Mason said quietly. “Until it all went wrong.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
Mason looked away for a moment, tapping a finger lightly against the coffee cup. “There was a leak. Documents. Financial audits. Allegations of insider trading in a defense contract. I wasn’t guilty, but I was easy to burn. They needed someone clean to take the fall, and they made me do took. fall.”
“They?” Ryan asked.
“Bimac agencies,” he said. “And a corporate exec who knew exactly how to wipe his hands clean from dirt and blood.”
Ryan tilted her head. “You were in intelligence?”
“For six years,” Mason said. “Then I transitioned into risk consulting. Asset protection. Discreet problem-solving. I kept names off lists. Moved people through hostile zones. Smoothed over high-profile messes before the public saw blood.”
“And then they left you behind.”
Mason gave a dry laugh. “That’s the way it goes. Loyalty’s a currency they spend fast, you know.”
Ryan was quiet for a moment. She didn’t look away. “That must have been hard for you.”
“It was,” Mason said. “It really took a toll on me. I lost my job. My name. My money. I’m still paying debts from that time.”
“Yet here you are,” she said. “Still in the game as usual.”
“I’ve had offers,” Mason said. “But none with an expiration date. Yours has a beginning, a middle, and an end. That’s unusual.”
Ryan nodded slowly. “What do you want in return?”
Mason’s voice dropped low. “I want the truth. About you. About your family. About what you want. I want to know you. No spin.”
Ryan held her gaze. “That’s fair. You’ll get it.”
He leaned forward slightly. “Let me be clear. This has to look real, down to the way we walk into a room together. We’ll have to rehearse stories. Recreate a shared history. You’ll need to let go of the idea that this is just business. It *is* business, but the people watching us? They’re predators. And predators sniff out fake. You get me?”
Ryan didn’t blink. “Understood.”
“Good,” Mason said. “Then let me tell you how this works.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not just hiring a body to stand next to you. You’re hiring a partner to become the story. That means interviews. Appearances. Weddings. Board dinners. Family holidays. We will live in the same space. I’ll be briefed on every scandal your family’s buried, every skeleton in your closet. And I’ll protect it all like it’s mine.”
“I can live with that,” she said.
Mason nodded. “I set my own lines. No media manipulation without my approval. No ‘leaks’ to test public reaction. And if anyone tries to trap me or use me…especially your father…I’ll walk away.”
Ryan smirked. “You think my father will try to trap you? Forget that he won't be a threat.”
“I think your father already knows I’m a threat,” Mason replied. “Men like him don’t enjoy losing control. And I’m not the kind of man who hands it to them.”
For the first time in their conversation, Ryan sat back. Studying him.
“You’ve done this before,” she said.
“Once,” he admitted. “A senator’s daughter. Six-month engagement. She got her seat. I disappeared.”
“Did it work?”
“Perfectly,” he said. “Until she fell in love with me. Guess my charm is so hard to resist.”
Ryan’s expression didn’t change. But her shoulders shifted slightly, as if grounding herself. “And did you fall in love with her?”
“No,” he said, flat and immediate. “I don’t fall in love on contract. I do my job, get paid and walk away.”
Ryan considered that. “Good. Because I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win.”
Mason smiled faintly. “Then we understand each other.”
He stood, pushing the chair back. “Alright, Ryan Salvador. Let’s see if you’re worth the trouble.”
She stood too, smoothing her coat, then nodded once. “You’ll find I always am.”
They walked toward the door together.
Outside, the sun was setting. Their shadows stretched long behind them, intersecting briefly before parting again.
Neither of them spoke. But both knew this was only the beginning—of a performance that had to be flawless.
- Writer
