Edge of Surrender

Chapter 12

Serena Rosette

As I approached the gate, a moment of hesitation gripped me, questioning the correctness of my decision. My heart pounded rapidly, reminiscent of the last time I stood here, hand in hand with him in the playroom. The memory was vivid—his touch firm, his commands unwavering, the way he had guided me into a world I once feared yet craved. But today, my purpose was different. I wasn’t here as his submissive; I was here to confront the haunting memories of that night and perhaps gain clarity about him—about us.

A cold breeze swept through, making me shiver despite the warmth of my cream-colored blouse. The soft fabric clung to me lightly, the pearl buttons glinting faintly under the dim glow of the entrance lights. My high-waisted black skirt hugged my hips, swaying slightly as I stepped forward, my heels clicking softly against the pavement. I had tied my hair into a loose ponytail—a subconscious attempt to maintain composure, to feel in control when everything about this place made me feel otherwise.

The internal debate of whether to proceed or retreat echoed in my mind. Despite my reluctance, I took a deep breath, steadying my resolve, and pressed the doorbell. The grand iron gates remained as imposing as ever, a reminder of the power he wielded, the world he belonged to—a world I had once stepped into willingly but now hesitated before.

Moments later, the door swung open, and Alex, his ever-composed butler, stood before me. His sharp gaze softened slightly upon recognizing me.

“Good evening, Miss Serena. Sir is waiting for you in the dining room,” he announced, his voice polite yet formal.

I nodded, stepping inside. The familiar scent of leather and expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with something warm—perhaps dinner had already been served. I couldn’t help but wonder why he had chosen the dining room for this conversation. Was this meant to be casual? Or was this another attempt at control, setting the pace on his terms?

Alex led me through the hallway, the polished marble floors reflecting the dim golden glow of the chandeliers above. Each step I took felt heavier, as if I were walking deeper into something I wouldn’t be able to escape.

When we reached the dining room, Alex silently excused himself, closing the large mahogany door behind me. My eyes landed on Mason.

He sat at the long dining table, his presence as commanding as ever. He was dressed in a fitted black dress shirt, tailored perfectly to his muscular frame. The fabric stretched slightly across his broad shoulders, hinting at the strength underneath. The top two buttons were left undone, revealing a glimpse of his sculpted chest, the sharp collarbone visible under the soft glow of the chandelier. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the veins along his forearms—an effortless display of dominance and control. The silver cufflinks on his wrists glinted subtly, complementing the luxurious yet understated look. His black trousers, perfectly creased, hugged his toned legs, emphasizing his powerful stance even as he sat with one leg crossed over the other.

His dark hair was styled in its usual controlled mess—casually tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it in thought. He held a glass of red wine in his hand, swirling the deep burgundy liquid lazily before taking a sip. His stormy blue eyes locked onto mine, intense, unyielding, as if he were reading into my very soul.

“Welcome, Sere,” he said smoothly, setting his glass down. “Come, take a seat.” He gestured toward the chair across from him.

I hesitated, gripping the strap of my bag. “Mr. Graves, we’re here for a conversation, right?” I asked, maintaining a formal tone, deliberately creating distance.

“Yes, we are,” he agreed. “But Sere, let’s keep it casual, not too formal.” His voice carried a hint of amusement, but I knew better than to fall into his easy charm.

Ignoring his attempt at familiarity, I pulled out the chair and sat down. I shifted slightly, smoothing down my skirt, suddenly hyper-aware of how his gaze lingered.

“Do you want to discuss matters here?” I questioned, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

“No, not at all.” He leaned forward slightly, studying me. “First, you need to eat something. You haven’t had much today, and you’ve skipped your medication. Have a proper meal, take your medicine, and then we’ll talk.”

I stiffened at his words. How did he always know these things?

“I don’t want to eat right now,” I countered quickly. “I don’t have an appetite. And as for the medicine, I’m feeling better today.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Sere, do you really think making excuses with me works?” His voice was calm, but there was an underlying firmness I recognized all too well.

I remained silent, averting my gaze.

“You need to eat,” he insisted. “Especially for the medicine. I don’t want your health to worsen.”

“Why do you care?” I shot back, feigning irritation. “Why does it matter to you whether I eat or not?”

Deep down, I knew the answer. I missed this. The way he took charge, the way his presence alone made me feel safe despite everything. But I couldn’t let him see that.

“I care for you, Sere,” he said simply. “And that’s why I’m telling you to eat. We won’t discuss anything until you do as I say.”

I let out a slow breath, gripping the spoon reluctantly. “Why do you always have to be so bossy?” I muttered under my breath as I took a small bite.

His deep chuckle sent a shiver down my spine.

We ate in silence. The tension between us was palpable, thick with unspoken words. Once I finished, he handed me a tablet, watching intently as I swallowed it.

Satisfied, he stood and motioned for me to follow. He led me to the main hall, the space where we had first crossed paths in this house. The air between us crackled with familiarity as he gestured for me to sit on the couch.

“Sere, you’ve changed a bit,” he remarked, settling across from me.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I studied him, allowing myself to take in his presence. He looked just as he had the last time I was here—intimidating, in control, yet something about his gaze tonight felt different.

After a long silence, he leaned forward. “Now tell me, what do you want to know first? The engagement, or the night at the club?”

I swallowed hard. My fingers clenched around my bag.

What was I even doing here? If only I hadn’t gone to the washroom that night, hadn’t peeked into that room, hadn’t attended that college program. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have met him. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be here.

“Whatever you want to start with,” I said quietly. “I just want this to be over.”

Mason exhaled slowly, studying me for a long moment. “Alright. Let’s start with the engagement.”

I nodded stiffly.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke. “The girl you met outside your college was my childhood friend, Liza.”

So, her name was Liza.

“Whatever she told you was completely false,” he continued. “Do you remember everything she said?”

I clenched my jaw, the memory still fresh, still painful. Of course, I remembered.

Mason’s gaze didn’t waver as he waited for my response. My fingers tightened around my bag, nails digging into the leather.

“She said you only get into relationships for money. That once you’re satisfied, you give money to the girl and end things,” I finally said, my voice quieter than I intended.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “That part is true,” he admitted. “I was in relationships with multiple women before you, and yes, it was transactional. The women I was with were all submissive, and they knew what they were signing up for. I never hid that from you either, Sere.”

His words hit hard. I had known this, yet hearing it so bluntly still hurt.

I looked away, pressing my lips together. “And Liza? Where does she fit into this?”

Mason exhaled, leaning back against the couch. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee before he answered.

“Liza isn’t someone I was ever involved with romantically or otherwise. We grew up together—our families were close. She’s always had a strong presence in my life, but never in the way she implied to you.” His voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it now, a hint of frustration.

“Then why would she say all those things?” I asked, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Why would she make it sound like you two are engaged?”

Mason’s jaw clenched. “Because she wants it to be true.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“My father has always wanted a business alliance with her family. Marrying her would secure that.” He let out a dry chuckle. “And Liza has always been more than willing to comply. She’s wanted this engagement for years, but I’ve never agreed to it.”

His words made something in my chest tighten. “So, your father’s forcing you into it?”

A dark look flickered across Mason’s face before he schooled his expression. “He’s pushing for it, but no one forces me into anything, Sere.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed that. No matter how powerful Mason was, family had a way of exerting control in ways that even he couldn’t fight.

“Then why hasn’t she stopped? Why does she act like it’s already decided?” My voice was sharper now, fueled by the emotions I’d been bottling up.

Mason sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Because she thinks if she keeps saying it enough, it’ll become reality. And because she knows it gets to you.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “So, she’s doing this on purpose? To drive me away?”

His silence was answer enough.

I swallowed hard, trying to process everything. Liza’s words had burrowed into me, making me doubt everything I thought I knew about Mason. And while some of what she said had been true, the parts that mattered—the ones that had hurt the most—had been carefully crafted lies.

And I had believed them.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I hated how easily I had let someone else’s words affect me. How I had let my insecurities win.

Mason reached out then, his fingers brushing against mine before he took my hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding, just like it had always been.

“And you didn’t even think to talk to me before deciding to walk away.” His voice was quiet, laced with something almost vulnerable.

Guilt surged inside me, tightening around my chest. He was right. I should have confronted him first instead of jumping to conclusions, instead of shutting him out.

“I should have talked to you first,” I whispered.

Mason squeezed my hand gently. “Sere, trust is everything. Misunderstandings like this happen when we don’t communicate.”

I nodded, wiping at my eyes with my free hand. “I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

He exhaled slowly, brushing his thumb over my knuckles in a slow, soothing motion. “Just promise me next time, you’ll talk to me first.”

“I promise,” I murmured.

For a moment, we just sat there, the silence stretching between us. But it wasn’t tense anymore. It was softer, filled with unspoken understanding.