Penance - Uncovering the truth, Secrets and confessions, and Twisted pasts

Chapter 13

"Have you heard the news? Mason Valentine is hosting a party tonight to celebrate the release of his latest book, 'Help'! Have any of you read it yet?" one woman exclaimed to her friends. "It's supposed to be amazing," she continued, "both the book and the party, of course. Only the most exclusive guests have been invited, so it's sure to be a star-studded affair."

Mason Valentine, renowned for his bestselling book "Help," had earned a reputation as a literary giant. Grayson was impressed by Mason's exceptional writing skills, having read both his non-fiction and one fiction books, especially considering that he had authored them at the tender age of 19.

Grayson took another sip, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to distract himself from...things. He didn't really care who was around him, he just needed a moment to clear his head. As he sipped his wine, he felt someone next to him. He glanced over- Speak of the Devil.

"Excuse me, are you Grayson Hawthorne?" Mason asked, extending his hand with a smooth and velvety voice.

Mason had a head full of thick, wavy brown hair with golden streaks that shone in the light. He was dressed in a sleek black tuxedo that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, with a crisp white shirt open at the collar, giving a glimpse of his chiselled chest. Mason stood slightly taller than Grayson, and his confident demeanour made him seem even more imposing.

Grayson took a sip of his drink before turning to Mason, then nodded and shook hands with Mason, and he took a seat next to him.

"Mr Valentine, congratulations on the new book," Grayson said, doing a curtsey in showing some interest in him.

Mason smiled. "Thank you, but let's drop the formalities. Call me Mason."

Grayson took a deep sip of his red wine, feeling the warmth spread through his body. Feeling a bit tipsy, he randomly asked Mason, "So, what made you call your latest book 'Help'?"

Mason hesitated for a moment before responding. "Well, it's a bit of a long story."

"I've got time," Grayson said, savouring the taste of the wine on his tongue.

Mason cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "The title came to me in a...dream. I woke up in the middle of the night with the idea for the book and the title just popped into my head."

Grayson looked at Mason skeptically. "That's all you have to say about it? You're a successful young author with five published books, and 'Help' is one of America's best-sellers."

Mason's eyes darted around the room before settling back on Grayson. "I don't like discussing my books or writing process. It's personal to me."

Grayson leaned back in his seat, his expression thoughtful. "But as a writer, don't they share their personal stories and experiences with others?"

Grayson took another sip of his wine and closed his eyes, feeling the tension in his body slowly melting away.

Mason thought for a moment before responding. "Of course, but we also have a responsibility to ensure that our stories are both compelling and authentic. If we're not genuine in our writing, then what's the point?" His voice took on a more serious tone, and he gave Grayson a hard stare.

Grayson smirked. "I completely agree. But what is authenticity without vulnerability? Our personal stories and experiences are what make us unique, and it takes courage to share them with the world. If we only focus on being 'compelling' and forget to be genuine, then we risk losing the heart and soul of our writing."

Mason shifted in his seat and ordered a scotch whisky. "You sure know a lot about things," he sighed.

"It's best to assume that I know everything," Grayson's voice was deep and dangerous.

Mason raised an eyebrow at Grayson's tone, sensing the underlying threat. "Is that so?" he asked, taking a sip of his scotch and setting the glass down on the table.

Grayson leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving Mason's. "Yes, it is," he replied evenly. "I also know when someone is hiding something."

Mason's expression hardened, his lips curling into a sneer. "And what makes you say that?" he spat.

"The hesitancy in your answers, the way you avoided talking about your writing... it's all very telling," Grayson's face betrayed nothing.

Mason chuckled darkly, swirling his drink in his glass. "You're quite perceptive," he said. "But you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Grayson's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

Mason leaned forward, his breath hot on Grayson's face. "It's not a threat," he smiled. "It's a promise."

Grayson didn't move, his eyes still fixed on Mason.

"You should come to tonight's celebration," he hissed, standing up and putting his money on the table. "I shall be expecting you, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne."

With that, Mason turned and walked away, leaving Grayson alone at the bar.

"You can run, Mason Valentine, but you can't hide," he muttered under his breath.

As Grayson finished his drink, he heard his phone buzz with a new message. He took it out to find a text from Xander urging him to show his dominance and live up to the Hawthorne name at Valentine's party with his smooth, succulent, and seductive voice and killer Jameson dance moves.

Grayson's suspicions were confirmed as he read the message: Xander had hacked into his phone, and probably Jameson's too, and was monitoring his, their, activities.

Grayson deleted all of his personal data and contacts from his phone; he stood up and made a dramatic move by dropping the phone into his glass of wine. The screen flickered and died under the liquid, and he then walked back to his room.