Aiden stared at me for several long seconds after I delivered my confident statement. He clearly realized his verbal threats would not break my composure today. He did not say another word to me. He simply turned around and walked away to join the other wealthy executives near the center of the ballroom.
I released a heavy breath and placed my glass of sparkling water back onto the long table. My fingers were slightly stiff from gripping the cold glass so tightly.
Mason returned to the beverage table a few minutes later. He had finished his conversation with the senior board member, and he looked incredibly tired.
"Richard is completely satisfied with the stock projections, and the rest of the board members are preparing to leave the estate," Mason told me quietly.
We spent the next forty minutes standing near the large wooden doors. We shook hands with the departing guests and thanked them for attending the sudden reception.
The final corporate executive eventually walked out of the mansion, and the household staff immediately began clearing the dirty plates from the tables.
"I am going to walk back to my bedroom in the east wing right now, because my feet are hurting terribly in these leather shoes," I said to Mason.
Mason shook his head firmly and stepped closer to me so the busy waiters could not overhear our private conversation.
"You cannot sleep in the east wing tonight," Mason informed me in a serious tone.
"We agreed to maintain completely separate living quarters, and Leon specifically assigned that bedroom to me yesterday," I argued.
"My stepmother is highly suspicious of our relationship, and she ordered the household staff to monitor our movements," Mason explained. "If you sleep on the opposite side of the massive house on our wedding night, Eliza will immediately report the separation to the media."
I frowned because I knew he was entirely correct. Eliza wanted to destroy me, and she would use any evidence to prove the marriage was a fake corporate transaction.
"You must sleep inside my primary bedroom in the west wing tonight so the staff will see us enter the same room together," Mason stated.
I didn't like the sudden change of plans, but I nodded in agreement. We walked up the wide marble staircase together.
The hallways in the west wing were incredibly quiet. We walked past several closed doors until Mason stopped in front of a heavy mahogany entrance. He pushed the door open, and we stepped inside his private master suite.
The bedroom was incredibly large. The floor was covered with thick grey carpet, and massive glass windows overlooked the dark back gardens. However, my eyes immediately focused on the center of the room.
There was only one piece of furniture designed for sleeping. A massive king-sized bed sat against the far wall, covered with dark blue blankets and several large pillows.
A long velvet sofa rested near the glass windows, and a heavy wooden dresser stood near the closet door.
The heavy physical exhaustion of the long day finally hit my body. My shoulder muscles ached, and my toes were completely numb.
I immediately took off my white tailored blazer and draped the heavy fabric over the back of the velvet sofa. I kicked the uncomfortable black leather heels off my feet, and I sighed in relief when my toes touched the soft carpet.
Mason walked over to his wooden dresser. He removed his suit jacket and placed it neatly onto the flat surface. He reached up and untied his dark grey silk tie before he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his white dress shirt.
"You can find extra blankets inside the bottom drawer of that dresser," Mason told me while he rolled up his long sleeves.
"Why do I need extra blankets when the bed already has a large duvet on it?" I asked him in confusion.
Mason turned around and looked at me with his usual arrogant expression.
"You need the extra blankets because you are sleeping on the sofa tonight," Mason stated simply, as if he were delivering a basic weather report.
I stared at him for a moment to see if he was joking, but his face remained completely serious. My exhaustion quickly transformed into sassy irritation.
"I am absolutely not sleeping on that narrow piece of furniture," I told him firmly. "I spent the entire day fighting your terrible family members and lying to aggressive journalists to protect your corporate empire. I deserve a proper mattress."
"This is my private bedroom, and that is my personal bed," Mason argued. He crossed his arms over his chest. "We have a strict rule against physical contact. We cannot share the same sleeping space."
"The bed is large enough to fit three adult humans comfortably," I countered without backing down. "We can easily sleep on opposite sides of the mattress without touching each other."
"I am not sharing my bed with my temporary employee," Mason said coldly.
I placed my hands on my hips and glared directly into his dark eyes. I refused to let him order me around inside this room.
"You forced me to sign a contract, and you forced me to move into this specific room tonight," I reminded him loudly. "You are a billionaire who owns a massive estate, yet you expect me to sleep on a couch while you stretch out on a luxury mattress. That is incredibly selfish."
Mason clenched his jaw. He knew my argument was completely logical, but his stubborn pride prevented him from yielding easily.
"If you refuse to sleep on the sofa, then I will sleep on the sofa," Mason offered reluctantly.
"You are far too tall to fit on that small couch, and your back will hurt terribly tomorrow morning," I pointed out practically. "You have an important corporate meeting tomorrow, so you need proper rest."
I did not wait for him to argue again. I walked directly over to the large bed and placed my hand flat against the dark blue blankets.
"I am claiming the right side of the mattress," I announced with absolute finality. "You can take the left side. We will place a long pillow in the exact center of the bed to serve as a physical boundary. If you cross the boundary line, I will push you onto the floor."
Mason stared at me in complete disbelief. Nobody in his entire life ever spoke to him with such direct authority, especially not inside his own bedroom.
He opened his mouth to protest, but he simply closed it again. He rubbed his hand tiredly over his face.
"Fine," Mason conceded quietly. "We will share the mattress tonight. But I am taking a shower right now because I have a terrible headache from dealing with the board members."
"You can take all the time you need, because I am going to sit here and rest my feet," I replied.
Mason walked over to his closet to grab clean clothing, and then he walked into the attached master bathroom. He closed the heavy wooden door behind him.
I sat down on the right edge of the mattress and sighed happily. The mattress was incredibly soft and supportive. I leaned back against the headboard and stretched my legs out.
I heard the sound of the shower faucet turning on. The rushing water echoed slightly through the quiet bedroom.
I turned my head to look toward the bathroom, and I suddenly noticed a very concerning architectural detail.
The wall separating the bathroom from the main bedroom was not made of solid wood or drywall. The top half of the wall was constructed entirely of large glass panels.
The modern glass was supposed to provide an open, spacious feeling to the room. When Mason locked the bathroom door, an electronic system automatically turned the clear glass into a foggy, frosted pane to provide privacy.
However, the thick frosted mist did not completely hide the interior of the bathroom. It only blurred the physical details.
The bright lights inside the bathroom illuminated the space brightly. As Mason stepped into the glass shower enclosure, I could clearly see the dark outline of his tall body through the foggy glass wall.
I could see the broad shape of his shoulders and the defined lines of his chest. I watched the blurred silhouette of his arms move as he washed his hair under the running water.
My face instantly flushed with intense heat. A deep red blush spread quickly across my cheeks and down my neck.
I had never seen a man without his clothing before, and the visual outline was incredibly distracting. My heart started beating very rapidly against my ribs. My hands felt suddenly clammy.
I knew I should look away immediately, but my eyes remained fixed on the frosted glass. I felt deeply embarrassed by my own physical reaction. I was always so practical and sassy, yet a simple silhouette was causing me to lose my composure completely.
I forced myself to turn my head away from the bathroom. I needed a distraction right now.
I reached over to the small wooden nightstand next to my side of the bed. I found a thick, heavy book resting on the table. I picked up the book and opened it to a random page in the middle.
I stared intently at the black printed words on the white paper. I tried to read the paragraphs, but my brain completely failed to process the information. The letters simply blurred together.
I could still hear the sound of the running water, and my mind kept supplying detailed images of the muscular outline I had just seen.
I gripped the edges of the heavy book tightly. I took several deep breaths to cool my red face, but the heat refused to fade.
After fifteen agonizing minutes, the sound of the rushing water finally stopped. I heard the shower door open and close.
I kept my eyes firmly glued to the unread pages of the book. I listened to the bathroom door unlock.
The wooden door opened, and Mason walked out into the main bedroom.
I glanced up briefly, and my breath caught in my throat again. Mason had not put on the clean clothing he brought into the bathroom.
He was only wearing a white towel wrapped securely around his waist. Drops of water fell from his damp, dark hair and slid down his bare chest. His abdominal muscles were highly defined, and his shoulders looked even broader without his tailored suit jacket.
He walked toward the wooden dresser, but he stopped suddenly. He turned his head and looked directly at me sitting on the bed.
He noticed my bright red face instantly.
Mason tilted his head slightly. A small, highly amused smirk appeared on his lips. He realized exactly why I was so flustered.
I threw the heavy book onto the bed covers. I tried to sound angry to cover my intense embarrassment.
"You are completely shameless, and you need to put some actual clothing on right now," I told him quickly.
Mason did not walk to his dresser. He turned around and took slow, deliberate steps toward my side of the bed.
He stopped standing just a few inches away from my knees. I had to tilt my head back to look up at his face. The clean smell of his body wash surrounded me completely.
He looked down at my flushed cheeks, and his dark eyes gleamed with obvious amusement. He leaned forward slightly.
"I am inside my own private bedroom, Freya, and you are the one who spent the last fifteen minutes staring at the bathroom glass," Mason teased in a low, provocative voice.