Page 31 of Unmasked

She bit her lip. Was he testing her? Getting the upper hand back by dictating the terms of their next evening together, dressing her up like a doll so that she would look pretty enough to please his dinner guests?

She stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror as she held the dress up, the gold zipper glinting. Maybe this was exactly what she needed right now—another costume to boost her confidence and help her get what she wanted. In this, no one would look at her like she was lesser. Like she didn’t belong on Damian McKnight’s arm.

She wriggled into the dress and slipped on a pair of pencil-thin stilettos. Her hair hung in soft waves and her makeup was dark and sultry.

Mask firmly in place.

If he wanted her to act like a smitten fiancée, then she was going to give an Oscar-worthy performance. Without the limitations of her Carmina Ball disguise, she’d be able to tell if he wanted her rather than “Ariel.”

She swallowed back her guilt. It felt wrong to be going behind Corinna’s back like this, but Damian had set the rules. They weren’t to breathe a word of it to anyone. Besides, what harm would one more night do?

Her flight to the UK was booked, and she left in twelve days. It wasn’t like they were entering into long-term arrangement, and Lainey had no illusions she possessed that “forever” quality. She was fun—she’d been told it time and time again—but fun didn’t make for happily ever after.

One little fling before you leave the country and forget about men altogether.

Before she started her life as a career go-getter—Lainey, the creative. Lainey, the social media guru. She had plans, big ones. Long-term ones. And they didn’t include falling in love.

* * *

After Damian picked her up, it was all business. He’d briefed her on his plans for signing McPartlin & Co. as a client and gave her an overview of their expansion strategy. Then they agreed on the details of their “relationship.” Dating for a year, engaged for two months. They were keeping it quiet because Lainey—Ariel—didn’t want to deal with the media. No date set for the wedding, but the plan was for a small and private event. Be general but not too vague, avoiding unnecessary details that might make it hard to keep track of the story.

Damian parked beneath the Crown Entertainment complex, and they got out of the car.

“Think you can handle all that?” he asked as they walked toward a set of elevators.

Lainey’s high heels made echoing sounds that bounced off the concrete walls. “A few white lies? Sure.”

“I guess you do have practice.”

She jabbed the call button for the elevator. “If you don’t want me to apologise, then stop bringing it up. I tried to say I was sorry.”

“Apologies are useless.” He stared straight ahead, his hand coming to the small of her back as the doors opened. The touch burned through her dress. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“And I take responsibility for my actions.”

“Do you?” He raised a brow. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve skated through life, leaving mass destruction in your wake.”

Her cheeks burned. How was it possible that she could be so attracted to a man who thought she was a hot mess? “Yes, you were incredibly upset after we fucked. I’m sure you’ll have mental scars from it.”

He was on her in a flash, hands gripping her shoulders as he held her fast. His dark brows knitted into a frown. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I found out it was you?”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, so she opted for sarcasm instead. “Were you sick to your stomach?”

“I was.”

She snorted. “Just what every woman wants to hear.”

“I was sick to my stomach because I couldn’t get the thought of your body out of my head. I wanted you again. I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to be inside you.” His face was inches from hers, his breath puffing across her cheeks. “I was sick over how much I wish you’d come back to my place that night so I could have stripped you down and explored every fucking inch of you.”

Her sex throbbed and she squeezed her thighs together, but it did nothing. There would be no satisfaction unless it was him there. All of him. Only him.

He continued. “And I can’t think about you like that.”

“Why? I’m not family.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re not related. We wouldn’t be doing anything wrong.”

“Yes, we would. Because, as crazy as you are, I don’t want to screw things up with us. It’s not worth the risk.”

She blinked. It was far from the answer that she expected. In her mind, he’d never viewed them as having anything to screw up. “What do you mean, it’s not worth the risk?”

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