Page 79 of Masked in Deception
When they’re gone, there’s nothing to stop my mind from wandering to the dark place I’ve been trying to avoid for the past few days. The place where I’m forced to sit and think about just how much I’ve fuckedeverythingup. All over again. After I swore I would never make the mistake of letting Margot go again, I overcompensated and now I’ve managed to get her back twice. In two parallel lives that don’t touch.
What I didn’t tell Henry and Ledger was exactly how much Margottrustsme when we’re at the club. It’s obvious in all of our interactions that she trusts her masked man completely. She’s outright said it multiple times when discussing ideas for scenes. The totality of that trust sinks into my gut like a sharp knife because I’vealready broken it.I’ve been breaking her trust in that room from the moment I realized it was her. And I’m themost selfish man alive. I didn’t see a way forward for real Jack to get her back, so I chose to betray her and move forward as masked Jack, to have any piece of her I could, to keep myself alive a little while longer.
I never expected her to soften to me at all in real life, but over the course of our collaboration and our dates, I’ve finally gotten her to a place where Iknow,at least I think, that she remembers the true magic of our relationship.God, I’m such a piece of shit.
And the way she broke down at the end of our last scene and felt so guilty…I could see it. She didn’t realize she said my name out loud, and I watched as she grasped what she had done, her guilt eating her alive. But while she was panicking and feeling confused, I was exhilarated. Perversely pleased.Fucking stoked.Because she was thinking about real life me while fucking her masked man. I don’t have any idea what she’s going to decide to do with both ongoing relationships, but I do know that I’m too far in this to quit now. Whatever scraps of attention she’ll keep giving to me, I’m going to keep fighting for. I’ll prove to her that I’m a better man than I was, and that I can give her everything she’ll ever want. Nobody knows Margot Sinclair like I do.
Except you’re not a better man at all, you lying fuck.
And maybe that’s true. Maybe I’m not any better. But I am older and wiser, and I’ve learned lessons from my mistakes, including the only one that matters.
Do whatever it takes to keep Margot Sinclair.
Lying be damned.
Chapter fifty-seven
“Princess, I would never ever hurt you. Just relax, okay? Just look in my eyes.”
“My perfect girl,” he coos, kissing my temple, “you did so well. I’m so proud of you. You took it all beautifully, such a good fucking girl.”
Go to Paris. Find the sexiest Frenchman you can and climb him like a tree. Live every second of your life to the fullest.
A knock on my door jolts me from my thoughts, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. My personal life is in shambles, and I feel as unsettled as I have in years. Of course the period when I felt in control of myself and my life, emotions, relationships…that lasted, God, how long? A month, tops? Of course. It’s comically predictable at this point.
At least I had the bright idea to make sure I was ready for my date with Jack before I sank into my melancholy. I’m dressed in what’s become my look of choice lately—head-to-toe pink. I suppose what’s old is new again, or maybe it’s true that every woman goes through style cycles. When I asked Jack for our dress code tonight, he only replied “to the nines,” so withthatunhelpful bit of information, I did what I could. I’ve had this dress forever, waiting for an occasion to wear it, which is a stupid way to think. What if I had been hit by a bus with this dress sitting in my closet?
Then they could have buried you in it!
Jesus, Margot. Morbid, even for you.
Making my way to the door and grabbing my clutch, I take one last look at myself in the full-length mirror in the entryway, smirking. This pink is so pale it’s almost white, and the tea length paired with the corseted waist overall gives a rather bridal look. I bet Jack panics and chokes.
Opening the door, I see not Jack but his driver. “Ma’am, Mr. Carter will be meeting you at the venue, if you please.”
Well, if he can’t be bothered to pick me up himself, maybe this isn’t as much of a date as I thought.
Finally, we arrive at the destination, my chauffeur refusing to give even a hint about where we’re headed.
Stepping out of the car and over a puddle because there’s no sidewalk, I look up at…a big, abandoned factory? Great, the chauffeur has dropped me off in a questionable area, clearly at the wrong address, and driven away to leave me…
“Miss?”
I look up to see a man in full formal serving attire beckoning me into the wrought-iron gates of the imposing building.
“I’m Remy. Mr. Carter apologizes for the delay and hopes you’ll come inside. He’ll be with you in a few short minutes.”
Rolling my eyes, I decide being kidnapped is less likely since everyone clearly knows who Jack is, so I follow Remy into the building. Initially, we’re in a nondescript hallway, and I see cracked windows looking into the huge, disused production area. Before I know it, he’s opening one more set of doors, and tears fill my eyes as I see a logo I would recognize anywhere.
L'éclat du Chocolat. The Chocolate Sparkle.
One of my many obsessions as a child was an offset of one of the larger chocolate producers in the United States. The founder and main chocolatier was the daughter of the CEO of the chocolate company, who wanted a chance to make smaller batches with organic ingredients and leave her mark on the family business. Having access to it was a real treat since the batches were so small, so Mom would conserve it for very special occasions. I know the woman who founded it moved to France years ago and stopped marketing the chocolate, so I’m not sure where I am right now.
Unlike the derelict larger facility just outside, this kitchen and workspace is immaculate. White tiles, dark green accents, and antique appliances that have been seemingly maintained all these years. It’s decorated, too, with a seating area featuring a small round table set formally for two, delicate flameless candles and a bouquet of peonies completing the romantic setting.
I sniffle. Well. I underestimated Jack Carter. Again.
“Well, Princess. Maybe one day you’ll stop. But I don’t mind. It makes it all the more exciting to continue to hurdle your expectations of me.”
