Page 33 of Unmasked

CHAPTER TEN

THEDINNERPROGRESSEDbetter than Damian had expected, despite the fact that McPartlin steered the conversation away from business every time it came up. However, the older man seemed to have lost his suspicions, mainly thanks to Lainey’s brilliant performance.

She’d brought the mask with her and spent a good ten minutes cooing over the design with McPartlin’s wife. Every so often, her eyes would flick to Damian and something would pass between them. A ripple of tension, electric with the force of her energy. It was like she wanted to communicate, and though he didn’t know exactly what she was thinking, the heat in her expression had his whole body lighting up. Crying out for more.

Crying out for her.

The dress he’d bought for her looked incredible. The dark fabric clung to her curves the way his hands had that night. The zip was mostly done up—less than an inch remained open at her bust. It didn’t reveal a thing, but it did make him think about undoing the dress and tracing the line of the zipper with his tongue.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him when he’d bought that dress. He’d only planned to send her the details for the dinner—but he’d walked past the boutique and handed his credit card over before he knew what he was doing.

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to keep the engagement a secret,” Jerry’s wife, Sandra, said as she raised a gold-trimmed coffee cup to her lips. Her red lipstick left an imprint behind on the white china. “The media is relentless with stuff like that. How did you do it?”

“It hasn’t been easy,” Lainey said, placing her hand affectionately on Damian’s thigh and leaning closer to him. Her expression was as sincere and sweet as apple pie, but under the table her hand inched higher.

She’d been testing his boundaries all night—touching him, planting sweet kisses on his cheek and smiling as she swiped the lipstick mark away with her thumb. Playing the doting fiancée with aplomb.

“Sometimes I feel like I’ve made the whole thing up,” she added with a twinkle in her eye. “I haven’t gone to many events with him, but the masquerade ball was the perfect opportunity since I could keep my face covered. We could be together without anyone knowing who I was.”

“Sometimes I felt like I didn’t even know who you were that night,” Damian said drily.

Lainey squeezed his thigh, the top of her finger precariously close to where he was doing his best to will away a burgeoning erection. They really needed to stop talking about the ball, because he was struggling to keep the image of Lainey straddling him out of his head. He wrapped his hand around hers, interlacing their fingers and guiding them away from his crotch.

“You’ll have to go public at some point,” Jerry said. “People talk.”

“To be honest, I don’t want a life in the spotlight anymore.” Damian shrugged. “My company is where I’m focused. I had my fifteen minutes and frankly hated every bloody second of it.”

Jerry laughed. “It certainly has its ups and downs. But you do have a face for television, I’ll admit that.”

“I have a mind for business,” Damian corrected. “Television didn’t really work out for me. All it did was give me a reputation that I’m not proud of. I’m not fame hungry, and I’m not a womanizer.”

He couldn’t blame McPartlin entirely for having a low opinion of him. While Damian had come across well on the show, the people who made Australia’s Most Eligible knew exactly how to interview contestants and edit the footage to tell the story they wanted. They could create villains and heroes out of ordinary men. Or, in his case, men who would do anything to get ahead.

He’d watched half of the first episode the night it aired and had cringed the whole way through. The Damian on that show wasn’t him.

“Ah, yes. Well, even those in the industry fall prey to believing what they read.” That was as close to an apology as Jerry was ever likely to give, but Damian would take it. “Call me old-fashioned, but I think people today don’t value the sanctity of marriage like they used to. Monogamy is a wonderful thing.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Damian said, reaching for his wine in the hopes of washing the bitter taste from his mouth.

Sandra shot Damian and Lainey a look. “He also thinks today’s music is abominable. I’m sure when time machines are invented he’ll go back to the ’50s and never leave.”

“Nothing wrong with having morals,” Jerry huffed.

“Well, now that he’s on his high horse, it’s probably time we leave.” Sandra shook her head. “One glass of wine and he gets philosophical.”

Damian stifled a laugh. He’d once thought of Jerry McPartlin as intimidating, but it was clear his wife was the one running the show behind the scenes. For some reason, it made him think of Lainey. On the outside she appeared one way—flighty and silly and a little bit crazy—but on the inside she had a fierce determination to go after what she wanted. As much as he disliked her methods, he had to admire her resourcefulness.

“I need to check in with the kitchen,” Jerry said, pushing up from the booth. They were seated near a set of doors that led into a high-tech kitchen, which had allowed not only privacy for their dinner but meant Jerry had been able to keep an eye on his staff all night.

“Always working,” Sandra commented, shooting Lainey a look. “I suppose Damian is the same.”

“Absolutely.” She nodded. “He’s so dedicated. It’s inspiring.”

Jerry stuck his hand out to Damian. “Enough with the hard sell already. I’ll give you a meeting, but I’m not making any promises. You need to prove you can offer me more than my current firm, which is going to be tough. And at a better price, too.”

“It won’t be tough.” Damian gripped the older man’s hand.

“Cocky.” Jerry laughed. “There’s another problem with young people today.”

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