Page 32 of Masked in Deception
“I love you too, Princess,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead as I have countless times before. The memory of the way her lips felt against mine already haunts me. I grab my phone and finally take that picture of my Sleeping Beauty. A memory frozen in time. A reminder of where my heart is, in case I ever forget why my chest feels so empty.
Chapter thirty
Chapter thirty-one
TWO YEARS LATER
If I could be less of a sap for one second, that would begreat.Leave it to me to tear up yet again as I hang up custom bunting of tiny blue and pink boxing gloves over Mom’s mantel. I just can’t believe my big brother is going to be adaddy. Sniffling, I try to keep my hands busy, but since I arrived home yesterday, I’ve been so emotional thinking about how lucky we all are to be welcoming this baby.
Sloane and Ledger spent a few months in Paris last year while they were traveling, and she’s become the sister I never had. I could never imagine anyone taming Ledger, but she’s beyond perfect for him. As perfect as Paris was, after we got so close during their visit, I just couldn’t stand the thought of being so far away from my first little niece or nephew, so it was perfect timing for my internship to end and for me to move back home. With my dream online lingerie boutique taking off enough to have stores in Paris and London, coming home to open one inNew York was the perfect excuse to leave my French life behind and return to the States, at least for a bit.
Finally getting the bunting just to my liking, I turn to move on to my next task when Mom intercepts me.
“Darling, the New York store called again. Marco wanted to confirm the pop-up collaboration for Valentine’s Day. I provided him with all the feedback we discussed and informed him that you can sign off on some of the visuals once you’re back in town. Now, as far as the summer collection, I wanted to see if you wanted to revisit the neon moment…”
As much as I hate to say it, it’s been more of a blessing than a curse to have Mom involved in my first solo business venture, LaReine.After an internship project for a department store in Paris turned into a capsule collection for another well-known brand, I realized that while lots of lingerie wasso closeto exactly what I wanted to wear, there was always a little something I’d want to change. Finally, I decided to pretend I was a man and use my unwavering belief in myself to just go for it. La Reinestarted with a fake name, and my family had no clue what I was up to. I didn’t tell them it was my company until I was getting ready to open my second store. Now, I’m happy to have my mom’s help, and we’ve had a ton of fun designing and brainstorming together. Sometimes we have spats that remind me of the high school play that almost broke our relationship, but for the most part, it’s just been fun. She loves to meddle, though, and I realize she’s still talking when I hear her say a name I haven’t thought about for the better part of two years.
“So I told Jack that we had talked to Ledger and Sloane already, and he agreed it would be a perfect opportunity for us all to work together and showcase the Noir collection! They’ll be setting up the logistics for the Valentine’s Day lingerie date auction, and we just have to do the fittings so that all the dates feel their best when they’re on stage!” Mom finally finishes, andI’m just as amazed as I was as a child at her ability to go so long without taking a breath.
Working to keep my face neutral and hide my annoyance at the fact that she even brought Jack into this, I try to get a word in edgewise. “Mom, I really wasn’t aware that Jack would be involved. He didn’t come up once in all of our discussions, and I don’t think…”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Margot, it’shisclub! He’s the one who’s been in New York working so hard to get it off the ground. You’ll besoimpressed, darling. He’s worked like a dog, and it’s finally paying off, especially with how low he was after his father died…”
She continues, but if I was half listening before, I’m not paying her any attention at all now. Because thehethat she’s droning on and on about just walked in, and either I’m having a stroke or my feelings of love and hate are canceling each other out because…Earth to Margot? Are you in there? Can we turn ourselves off and back on again?
I feel numb? Neutral? It’s like I know everything and nothing about this man. He’s the same Jack I left, tall and with light brown hair that’s just a little longer on top than I remember. One thing that isn’t the same, though, is the fact that Jack isjacked.He looks like he’s spent every spare moment of the past two years in the gym, more overtly muscular than the effortlessly strong Jack I knew. It’s…nice…to see him, and honestly,good for you, Margot,for being such a strong woman. You’re certainly not the girl who left two years ago to build a new life for yourself after the perfectly good one you already had came crashing down.
Maybe that wasn’t ever actually my reality.People don’tactuallyend up with everything they’ve ever wanted in real life. That’s the stuff of fairy tales, and maybe those are better left to little kids with nightmares.
In any case, no reason to cry over spilled milk, and I’m really only in the US for a little while. Sell lingerie, spoil this baby, get dicked down by a circumcised man for a change of pace, and head back to Europe for hopefully my fourth store. Maybe Italy this time…I’m strolling swiftly into a daydream about a man I met in Venice, Antonio,when Mom’s impeccable timing again disrupts me.
“There he is! My darling Jack, it’s been far too long, and you text too little. I’m so glad you could come,” Mom says, and I feel a looming presence behind me until Jack steps around me to embrace her.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Blanche,” he replies, and I swear to God this man’s voice has gotten deeper in the past two years.
What the hell.Why am I thinking about the raspiness of his voice? I haven’t had a single thought like this since about four weeks into my life in Paris, when I decided to grow the fuck up and be an adult about a fling that obviously meant less to him than it did to me. I had fully expected to come back and just avoid him, but now Mom’s giving him the full rundown about the Valentine’s Day lingerie plans.
“And I told them that you would have it all handled, Jack,” Mom says, beaming up at him as he smiles down at her.
“It is. Those vendors all signed last week, and we’re actually ahead of schedule on the other vendors for the evening. I did book a different catering group than we discussed, which I hope is okay. It’s actually led by a Michelin-starred chef who travels to different cities and establishes catering companies that employ people with nonviolent criminal histories and people recovering from addiction. He’s had a lot of success, and I’ve been using them for quite a few events lately.”
“Of coursethat’s fine, Jackie,” my mom says with tears in her eyes, looking up at Jack like he’s St. Valentine himself. “That’sjust the sweetest idea. You’ve been working so hard for years, and for you to still find opportunities to help others is just precious.” She sniffles, wiping her eyes before turning to me. “You better snap yourself up a man just like Jack while you’re in New York, Margot. I doubt the Europeans can compare.”
With that, and a gentle pat on Jack’s cheek, she’s flittering off to put up some of the finishing touches around the house before guests start arriving.
Jack has frozen and looks like he’s seen a ghost, but I can feel every ounce of color that’s leached out of his face rising to mine tenfold.
My mother wants me to find a man…likefucking Jack?
Oh, this is rich. This is just fuckingrich.Which Jack does the great Blanche Sinclair mean? Jack Carter III, hero of my childhood? My prince and protector, always there to make me feel like the princess he called me? A man who grew up in front of my eyes and was as perfect for me at thirty as he was at ten? The nature of my love for him might have changed over the years, but it was as true on the day that he dismissed me from his life as it was from the moment I snapped into consciousness and my first memory was of his face.
ThatJack Carter was a man that any woman would be proud to call hers, whether as a friend, a lover, a coworker, or in any other way she could have him. He was loyal, and brave, and strong. And I shouldn’thaveto “find a man like him,” as Mom says. I had one. I hadtheone. The archetype. Or so I thought.
Too bad he was a massivefucking fraudwho took away our chance to have it all.
Ifthat Jack Cartereverexisted…well. He ceased to exist two years ago, for reasons unknown to anyone but himself. The only Jack Carter I know now is a coward, and the best thing I’ve ever done for myself is spend two years in Paris to become the kind of strong woman who really doesn’t give a fuck.
But the idea that my mother still has him on a pedestal…I can’t help the red that seeps out of my pores and glazes across my eyes. A joke. What afuckingjoke.
