No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 42

**TITLE: My Heart Waited Too Long and Choosing Freedom**
**Chapter 42: Mason’s Warning**

Later that evening, Beatrice found herself consumed by an overwhelming desire to connect with the Everetts. She tried every tactic her mind could conjure, each attempt met with a wall of indifference. The most mortifying moment came during a party, where she had meticulously imitated Amelia’s style, hoping to catch Mason’s attention. With a heart pounding in her chest, she mustered the courage to call out to him, “Mason.”

The transformation in Mason’s demeanor was instantaneous. His dark, brooding eyes turned to ice, and his voice sliced through the air like a cold wind. “The Harlows have nothing to do with the Everetts,” he stated, his tone devoid of any warmth or compassion.

That moment haunted Beatrice for years, a relentless nightmare that replayed in her mind. After Mason left for his overseas commitments, she channeled her humiliation into a simmering anger, directing it squarely at Amelia. In her stubborn mind, she clung to the belief that Amelia had whispered something insidious behind her back, fueling the Everetts’ disdain for her.

Now, standing face to face with the man who had once made her feel so small, Beatrice felt her breath catch in her throat. “Ma-Mason,” she stammered, the name slipping out before she could filter her thoughts.

Mason’s gaze swept over her like a winter’s chill, leaving no trace of warmth in its wake. Beatrice felt as if she had plunged into an icy cellar, the cold wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. Panic surged through her veins, compelling her to think quickly. She glanced around, terrified that Mason might uncover her scheme against Amelia.

Desperation fueled her actions as she rushed to Amelia’s side, shaking her limp form gently. “Amelia? Amelia, wake up! Mason’s here!” she called out, her voice a mix of urgency and feigned concern. “Oh dear, why do you have such a low tolerance for alcohol? You invited Steven and the others to discuss your studio’s business, and now look at you—out cold after just a few drinks?”

Mason, however, appeared to ignore her desperate attempts at distraction. He strode purposefully through the group of men, who now stood silent and apprehensive, until he reached the table where Amelia lay. His eyes were fixated on her, a tempest brewing in the depths of his gaze.

“Step aside,” he commanded, his voice low yet chillingly authoritative.

A shiver ran down Beatrice’s spine, but she refused to let him take Amelia away. If Amelia regained consciousness now, all of Beatrice’s manipulations would be laid bare. She steeled herself, unwilling to budge. Instead, she reached out, attempting to lift Amelia from her seat.

“Amelia’s drunk. I’ll take her home to rest. There’s no need to trouble you, Mason,” Beatrice insisted, forcing calm into her voice, desperate to regain control of the situation.

But just as her fingers brushed against Amelia’s arm, Mason’s hand shot out, pushing her away with a force that sent her stumbling back several steps. Disbelief washed over her, mingling with indignation.

“Mason, where do you think you’re taking Amelia? She’s married! If you’re not careful, this could ruin her reputation!” Beatrice exclaimed, her voice rising as she refused to back down.

“No… Don’t!” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper.

Mason, seated beside her, instinctively reached out to check her temperature. But the moment his fingers brushed against her feverish skin, a startling change occurred.

Amelia, who had seemed completely out of it, suddenly opened her eyes! Yet, they weren’t the clear, alert eyes he had hoped for. Instead, they were clouded, filled with a disorienting haze and a flicker of panic.

Instinct kicked in like a reflex; before Mason could even process the situation, Amelia seized his arm, her grip fierce, and bit down hard!

The sharpness of her teeth pierced his skin, sending a shockwave of pain racing up his arm. Mason froze, his brow furrowing in surprise. He could feel her teeth embedded in his flesh, her grip like a vice, as if she were fighting off an unseen enemy.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and even in her muddled state, Amelia sensed the warm liquid trickling down the corner of her lips, a visceral reminder of her vulnerability.