WHO SAID CINDERELLA HAD TO BE NICE?

MASON'S REQUEST

ELLA'S POV

A cold chill spread across my skin as Aunt Vivian pulled me towards the front door.

Her fist clamped tightly over my wrist, leaving barely any space for blood circulation.

Her touch felt deliberate, and knowing.

It was as though she recognized exactly who I was, and was just looking for an opening to humiliate me.

I glared back at the expressionless stranger from earlier, my eyes desperate— silently pleading for compliance.

“Why do you look so down, slut. Don't tell me you thought Lycan Mason would ever take an interest in the likes of you. He belongs to my daughter and so shall it always be," Vivian whispered mockingly into my ear.

I froze from fear— but not because of her, because of that name Mason.

Mason Jones, the illegitimate brother of Alpha Nickson, and a rudeless Mafia boss.

I heard he singlehandedly killed his mother and sister when he was just 10 years old.

His reason? cause she failed to secure his position as heir apparent.

Now that I thought about it, I should be thanking Aunty Vivian. Sure, she was going to break a couple of my bones when we get home, but at least that beats being killed by Mason.

Just then a deep hoarse voice cut through the air.

“Wait!"

It wasn't a request, it was an absolute command.

“Release her at once."

The room fell into a deafening silence, it was as though even the music knew better than to annoy this Mason guy

All eyes turned towards us, with unblinking gaze.

Aunt Vivian and I froze in our state for a moment longer, before turning to face him.

“Are you talking to me, my lord?" Stepmother asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Mason grabbed a glass of wine, stepping off the stage in an eerie manner.

“I believe I spoke with a clear voice," He declared, and my breath hitched. “I wouldn't be needing your assistance, I can handle her all on my own."

I'm finished!

I knew it, he was here for vengeance.

I knew I shouldn't have spoken to him in that manner.

Curse you, mouth.

You never stand up for yourself, but anytime you open up you manage to put me in trouble.

“My lord forgive my persistence but I insist you let me handle this woman, she is well below you status," Aunty Vivian said and I praised.

“Yes! She's absolutely right. I messed up and deserved punishment," I chimed in, a wave of excitement crawling up my throat.

A flash of shock crossed Mason's face, which he quickly masked.

Guess he couldn't understand why a woman who had pleaded with him to save her barely seconds ago was now siding with the same woman.

But still— his resolve was absolute.

He dragged me by the twist onto himself, consequently breaking Vivian's hold.

“I can handle my date just fine, thank you," Mason voiced, wrapping his long slender fingers round my waist.

My throat tightened.

His cold fingers brushed against my exposed skin from my back cut out, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

Aunt Vivian's mouth fell open.

“Your date?" She muttered.

“Yes!" He casually said, flashing a menacing smirk in my direction.

My heart skipped.

Aunty Vivian flashed a smile, one that didn't exactly reach her eyes. “Oh! my apologies. I should have known. I mean who else could design such a captivating piece," She voiced, gesturing at my dress.

A small laugh got stuck in my throat, she must be an i***t to believe this piece of parchment was actually worth much.

“Of course, it's a piece from my next fashion line," Mason dared to take credit for my work.

I stared up at him, and there it was— a smirk, no single iota of remorse.

I was just about to rebuke him when he spoke again.

“Baby let's excuse ourselves."

My blood ran cold, as he led me out of the banquet room, amidst the throbbing gaze of the guests.

I wanted to scream. To pull away, but I was too chickened to do that.

I was in serious trouble, and yet there was nothing I could do.

Before I could register where I was, he dragged me into a fabulous men's restroom, shutting the door behind me.

Once in, he headed to the sink, washed his hands and began undressing like I wasn't there.

He began by ripping open the jacket of his tuxedo, then casually began unbuttoning his shirt.

At this point, a sense of primal heat erupted in my stomach.

I felt hot, so hot, that my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Quickly I turned, striding towards the door like a starving lion.

But just as my fingers collided with the doorknob, Mason's voice rang across the room.

“Where do you think you are going?"

I froze for a heartbeat before regaining my composure.

“I wanted to give you some privacy," I spat out the first thing that came to mind.

“Stay. I am not complaining," He declared, his tone cold. Absolute.

His voice was closer this time; I could practically feel his body heat against my back

His warm breath on my exposed back.

“But I am," I declared in a hoarse tone, as I twisted the knob.

Before the door could click open, Mason grabbed my hand, spinning me to face him.

“We are not done yet," He snarled.

My heart sank.

As though he wasn't sexy enough before, now in just his undershirt he looked breathtaking.

“What... what do you mean???" I babbled, unable to pull myself together as a dull ache rose in my core.

If he was to take a swing at me, I would definitely fall.

“I'm talking about that," He said point at his stained tuxedo now resting on a counter. “You have to pay for dry cleaning, don't you?"

A small smile escaped my lips.

My cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.

What was I thinking, he was too perfect to want someone like me.

“Of course," I politely shuffled him away.

“How much is it?" I asked scanning my purse for last cash, a crumbled $20 note, and two quarters.

So much for paying a ride home.

I am definitely walking.

“Three hundred dollars," He announced and I almost choked on my own saliva.

“Three hundred what?" I asked, my voice shaking with shock, as I eyed him suspiciously.

This Mason guy is a con artist.

“Dollars. That tuxedo cost a hundred thousand dollars..." He announced but I impatiently interrupted.

“A hundred thousand for that?" I asked in disbelief.

“That— as you call it, is custom made with the real diamonds, and the finest cotton wool," He informed gesturing at the tuxedo, which seemed a little too fancy all of a sudden.

“If you want princess, I could show you the receipt," he said, as he pulled out his cellphone and began scrolling.

“No need," I stopped him, grabbing his hand on impulse. “I don't have that kind of money on me, but I am sure we could come up with another payment option."

“Another option. Interesting," He sneered, his lustful gaze sweeping over me, and finally resting on my hand wrapped around his twist. “What do you have in mind?"

I quickly released my grip.

Even though I knew I wasn't his type, his lustful gaze still terrified me.

I gulped down saliva before speaking.

“I... I was thinking of some kind of a payment plan."

His smile immediately flustered.

“Sure we could do that, or you could pay me with something more valuable," He said, circling me like a predator would its prey.

“Something like what?" I questioned, my heart threatening to leap out of my chest.

He smiled, leaned into my ear, and whispered something that sent shivers down my spine, “I want you..."