Page 74 of His Two Hidden Masks

I felt lost, like a boat without a keel adrift in unknown and choppy waters. I wanted to feel safe again, but the safe harbor my old life offered was gone. There was no going back.

I wished that Sara was alive on the other side of this door. I wished I’d never accepted Roberto’s proposal and that my parents could speak with me openly of their grief.

I took a deep breath and waited for my tears to retreat before walking inside my room. Fully clothed, I lay down on my bed. A single thought anchored me in my sea of confusion. I needed to protect my family from financial ruin and not blindly accept this narrative that the Street Acquisition was our only option. I felt in my bones, that something was off with this deal.

And what about Dylan, I wondered? If I could go back, would I turn a different corner and avoid crashing into him that moonlit night? No. I wanted to change a lot of things, but the idea of not meeting Dylan made me ache.

I wished he hadn’t talked to James about Bella Baci or given me unsolicited advice about my father. I lashed out. And when I saw him again, if I saw him again, I was going to give him a piece of my mind right before I begged him to take me to bed. I’d apologize for losing my temper with my mouth, my breasts, and my aching and wet pussy.

As my world felt less familiar, I craved the comfort and heat of his body. He numbed all my broken and hurt places. I knew we had no future, but he’d shown me colors that I could only see in his arms. If he was destined to be only a memory, he was my memory to keep.

Depressed, I stared up at those damn chubby cherubs overhead. This time, they didn’t make me happy or sad. I was just tired of watching their frozen, but cheerful, little dance.

I closed my eyes as my phone buzzed. It was a text from Leo.

8pm Drink Drink Drink

Please please please

I wanted to bury my face in my pillow. I did not want to go out tonight. I wanted to climb into my bed and lose myself to sleep, but I’d made a promise to Leo, and I wasn’t going to break it. I hearted his message and closed my eyes.

I wished I’d been smart enough to bring a box of my caramels home. Chocolate made everything so much better.

I napped and dreamed of hiding in Sara’s wardrobe. I awoke, smelling the scent of the cedar planks and remembering the touch of her silk dresses brushing over my face. I had burrowed as far back into the wardrobe as I could. I had wanted to stay there forever.

I surmised that seeing my mother triggered this dream, or was it a memory? Mama had opened the door to Sara’s bedroom like it was a normal room in our house. There was nothing normal about it.

My sister had been dead for over twenty years. Why was her room kept like a shrine? And why wasn’t I allowed inside?

I woke up as my phone buzzed with another text from Leo. I read his message and bolted upright.

David is cheating. For real.

I dialed Leo. It went straight to voicemail. Before I could leave a message, another text from him came through.

Can’t talk, giving tour. Talk tonight.

I replied without hesitation.

XOXOXOX I love you, see you soon, it will be ok.

I swung my feet off the edge of the bed, feeling sick for Leo and furious at David. This was Leo’s longest relationship, and he was in love. He had been cheated on twice before, and I knew if it happened again, it would crush him. Or worse, he would doubt his judgement so much, he’d never give love a chance again.

I would not let him down. I planned to pull myself together and take a break from the endless worry-loop playing in my mind.

I sat on the edge of my bed thinking that I really knew very little about Dylan Street and his family. Why didn’t I just stop wondering about him and do a little healthy and totally normal online stalking?

I had time before dinner. Leo couldn’t talk until then, anyway. Better to know if you are addicted to the devil now, I thought. Knowledge was power and I needed more intel on this man.

I googled Dylan and James Street and found headline after headline, with photos of the Street family at charity galas, auctions, fundraisers, and ringing the bell on Wall Street. The most recent photo was from a fundraiser at the Plaza Hotel in New York City.

The Street brothers all wore black tuxedos, Dylan and James on one side, and their older brother, Damien, on the other. Between James and Damien stood their mother, Ophelia Street. Stunning with shoulder-length, silver hair, she wore a long strapless black-and-white striped dress that sparkled and complimented her gorgeous sons.

Dylan and James, of course, were identical, but I could now spot the difference in their expressions. James did not smile inperson or in photos, and Dylan often gave the hint of a half-smile like he was thinking dirty thoughts. Probably was. I sighed.

Damien was tall like his brothers. His hair was closer to a sandy brown and his eyes looked like his mother’s. He definitely took after her more. I wondered if Dylan and James looked more like their father, who wasn’t in the picture.

I got my answer in another article from five years before. The story featured a photo of Dylan, James, and Damien, staring intently at the camera, standing in front a large, black desk.

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