Page 3 of Masked Love

He gave me a nod. “Mr. Everett.”

Mr. Hayes looked surprisingly good as Sherlock. Why was I even surprised? He looked good in anything, even wearing a deerstalker hat and holding that weird pipe. Now, I was stuck in the car with him, filled with his fresh peppery scent.

His mouth twitched in a barely there smile after he gave me a cursory glance at my costume. “Who knew mustaches would suit you?”

“It’s elementary, my dear Mr. Holmes. I look good in anything,” I said in my most horrible attempt at an English accent.

His mouth twitched again, and his dark blue eyes gleamed before looking out the window at a dark but vibrant city. I bet he was trying to school his features. God forbid he’d laugh around an employee. But then he glanced at me again and stared for so long with those intense eyes that I struggled not to squirm under his scrutiny. Did I have a booger hanging out of my nose? I itched to check, but my nose wiggled, having a mind of its own.

“I’m afraid I invited you to this… party under false pretenses.”

I swallowed the joke I was about to say to distract myself from his staring. What did he mean? God, I wasn’t going to like this, was I?

This was a hugemistake. What was I thinking? Not only did I lie to him about this costume party, but he was my personal assistant and someone I was highly attracted to but shouldn’t be. Greyson was intelligent, quick-witted, and a hard worker. He could get a little flighty sometimes when he felt threatened, but he always managed to hold it together. Even worse, I had used his inability to say no against him. I was such a piece of shit, but it was too late to back out now. There was no other direction to go but forward, and hopefully, he’d agree to what I wanted to propose because this wasn’t exactly appropriate for the workplace.

There were plenty of men to ask, or I could’ve called a service that specializes in such things, but I wanted Greyson. I was attracted to the younger man… Younger? He was fourteen years younger, at only twenty-six. Shit, what the hell was I thinking? Nothing would ever come of it because I was the boss, and for now, he was the tool I needed to get through this evening.

I hated any sort of function, but in my position in a rapidly growing company, I needed to make an appearance now and then—to put a face to the brand and give a positive look to yet another corporation that the general public was growing wary of, losing trust in the wealthy.

I didn’t blame them one bit, coming from a modest upbringing. It was also why I did a lot of charity work. Not to get a tax break but to really do something good with my time and money.

I looked over at him again, ready to bear my truth. His dark brown hair, which was usually combed neatly away from his face, sat under the black bowler hat I provided him with the rest of his costume. The thick mustache sat squarely over his full lips, and right now, his chocolate-brown eyes were wide behind his thick glasses and filled with uncertainty as his hands fidgeted on his lap. You could practically see the word ‘no’ floating inhis brain, but he was too professional to say that without first considering everything.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked.

Here it goes.

“My grandfather is… wealthy and a big investor in Nomadology to help get it off the ground. He has always supported me and my endeavors, and I choose to do it on my own… for the most part. I just needed some financial backing to get started. But there was a stipulation, which he had me sign in the form of a contract.”

I opened the minibar in the back and poured myself a whiskey neat. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Uhm, perhaps I should.”

“Perhaps.”

His chuckle was nervous and uncertain. “Well, that’s ominous.”

I ignored his comment. The truth would be out soon enough. “What would you like?”

“Do you have any wine in there?”

“I have a cabernet or a sauvignon.”

“A cabernet would be perfect.”

I poured him a glass of the earthy red wine and handed it to him. He took a long sip, not looking at me. “So… stipulations?”

I took another sip of my whiskey, feeling the burn as it went down. “Yes, he wanted me to find a husband and to create a family to carry on the Hayes’ legacy, whatever that means. Regardless, I agreed. Now, I’m biding my time until I have to fulfill that agreement, but he’s getting impatient. I plan to fulfill it, but I just… haven’t found the right person yet. It’s not easy when your life is married to time itself.”

I took another sip to keep the nervousness at bay. My outward demeanor should always indicate that I was under complete control and full of confidence.

“Mr. Hayes… I’m sorry you’re being forced into some archaic arranged marriage agreement, but what does this have to do with me?”

I waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, you know… it’s an old story and one you’ve heard countless times, I’m sure.”

He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob, which also made me swallow. His dark brown eyes were so earnest and filled with worry. “Ah… I get it. You want me to be your cover?”

“I knew you were smart. Yes. Grandfather has been pushing me to date Matthew Preston, owner of—”

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