Page 32 of Unmasked

“Sex creates tension. I don’t like being jealous or disappointed or resentful, and sleeping with someone I care about makes that difficult.”

The words her hit like a fist to the chest. “You care about me?”

Damian opened his mouth to respond, but the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Their private little bubble was gone. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

They walked through the bustling building and approached two large gilt doors. The name of the restaurant wasn’t visible from the front, but judging by the clientele, it seemed to be the kind of place where if you had to ask then you didn’t belong. She knew it was one of Jerry McPartlin’s restaurants, but that was it. Would he be able to pick her out as a fraud right away? She was wearing a ridiculously expensive dress, but it might not be enough.

She glanced furtively at the maître d’ as they stepped inside, wishing for a second that Damian had taken her for a burger and fries instead. But this wasn’t a social catch-up and she was playing a role—Ariel, Damian’s fiancée. Confident, cultured. Definitely not the kind of woman who would gate-crash a society ball.

She swallowed. They’d be able to pick her out like a cheap knockoff among rows of the real deal.

“Mr. McKnight, what a pleasure.” The maître d’ greeted him warmly, her hand gravitating to his arm as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“Good to see you, Marcella.”

“We’ve got our best table reserved for you. Mr. McPartlin and his wife will be joining you shortly.”

Marcella’s eyes swept over Lainey, curiosity apparent. With a warm smile, she gestured for them to follow her into the restaurant. Large light fixtures created a twinkling ambience, though the overall effect was still darkly intimate and sensual. Gold trimmings tastefully adorned the walls. The vast area housed small round tables and was lined with booths in dark wood and rich, plum-coloured velvet.

Lainey followed, still clutching Damian’s arm, and held her breath as they navigated the tight space between the tables. The last thing she needed was to trip and make a fool of herself. History told her the chances of that happening were as likely as the sun rising tomorrow.

“Relax.” Hot breath caressed her skin as Damian whispered into her ear. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I’m fine,” she said tightly, the words sticking in her chest.

They reached a secluded booth at the back of the restaurant. Ornate fabric hung from the ceiling. It looked like a curtain that could be closed for privacy if needed. She ran her hand down the silk, her fingertips grazing over the faint gold embroidery.

“I’ve got our most experienced server looking after you tonight,” Marcella said. “But please reach out to me if you need anything at all.”

Lainey’s jaw clenched automatically. Marcella looked exactly like the kind of woman Damian should be dining with. Articulate. Smooth. Polished. All the things that Lainey had given up hope of mastering.

“Of course.”

Damian motioned for Lainey to take a seat and he watched as she slid into the booth awkwardly, the tight fabric of her dress and towering heels making her feel like a circus performer on stilts.

“She’s got it for you bad,” Lainey observed. “Do you know her?”

“She’s a friend.” He removed his jacket and hung it on a little hook at the entrance to the booth before sliding into his seat with easy grace. “But I don’t want you thinking about Marcella or anyone else tonight. I need you on your A game.”

Nodding, she wound a strand of hair around one finger, watching the light catch on the vibrant pigment. Her nerves jangled, and anticipation swirled through her. With the mask on, she’d felt confident and in control. But now she was exposed. Maybe Damian was right. Sex with someone you cared about stirred up a whole mess of emotions, and she was unprepared. Woefully so.

But that was no excuse. Lainey might have come to rely on her friends to bail her out, but she didn’t shy away from her decisions.

You’ve made your bed—now you have to lie in it.

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