Page 46 of Unmasked

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

GIVENTHEEVENTSof last night, Damian didn’t want to heap his personal problems on Lainey. Because that would take them squarely away from casual sex and into...not-so-casual sex. Either that or he was still so ashamed about the divorce that he couldn’t bear to talk to anyone about it. Not even her. His family and Aaron knew what’d happened, but they’d all been sworn to secrecy.

It was his business. His private shame that he hadn’t been able to keep his wife happy.

“So you sold the apartment because you think you haven’t gotten over the divorce?” she pressed as they exited the café.

“Well, it was never going to be my place,” he said, slipping on a pair of sunglasses to shield himself from Lainey’s intense stare. “No matter how much time passed, I could still feel her there.”

“And you want to move on?” She looked at him with earnest eyes, glimmering with hope. That was exactly what he didn’t want from her.

He knew Lainey had a crush on him when they were growing up, because she was as subtle as a sledgehammer. Problem was, as time went on, he grew more and more attracted to the chaotic girl with the heart of gold. It pained him to admit, but she’d been in and out of his fantasies since his divorce.

He shoved the conflict aside, making a silent promise that it would be a single indiscretion. An isolated incident—well, except for the night of the ball, since that time had been out of his control—and that he would send her home...later.

“I’m ready to move on, yes.” He paused. “But I’m past that whole fairy-tale bullshit thing now. Moving on does not mean looking for someone else to marry.”

She considered that for a moment, her head bobbing slowly. He wondered if she might want further details. And he was ready to shut her down if she did.

“Sounds like you made the right decision to move...but a hotel? Really?” She frowned, her brows crinkling. “That’s not a home. You don’t even have a proper kitchen.”

“I want to find the right place, and I’m not going to rush things this time.” With the apartment or with a woman. “And the hotel owner is a client.”

Trees lined the patch of greenery that ran parallel to the river. Chairs dotted the edge, most of them occupied by couples and families enjoying the summer warmth. Arm in arm, Damian and Lainey would have looked like any other couple. Their footsteps dropped in perfect unison, a synchronicity that only developed after years of being around one another.

“I can help you move on, you know.” Her voice turned coy, a sly smile spreading across her lips. “I want to help.”

“I don’t need your help.” Against his better judgement, he reached out and touched her hair; the long red waves looked as though they belonged on a mermaid. On a mythical creature. Not on this crazy, impulsive woman.

“But you might want my help.” She stepped closer.

“I don’t.” The words stuck, and Damian had to force them out. “Want” was too high up in his vocabulary when it came to Lainey.

“Why are you so uptight?” she asked, tilting her head. A cool breeze swept past and ruffled her hair, sending the vibrant waves across her shoulders. “What are you trying so hard to repress that you’ve turned into this...”

“Curmudgeon?” he offered.

“I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds about right.” She threw her hands in the air and huffed.

“It means killjoy.”

“Yes, killjoy. That’s exactly the word I was looking for.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “I am going to make you have some fun.”

He wrapped his hands around her wrists and lowered them, hanging on to her for a moment longer than necessary.

“Why don’t we find you an apartment?” she said.

Now, that wasn’t a bad idea. A few property inspections would keep them away from his hotel room, and talking about kitchen layouts was a hell of a lot easier than talking about his divorce...or why Lainey was such a risk to him.

“Fine, apartment hunting it is.”

Half an hour later they were following a brisk-mannered real estate agent into a penthouse apartment in Southbank. Turned out she was a huge fan of Australia’s Most Eligible and the name Damian McKnight meant she dropped her other appointments quicker than a hot potato.

“This apartment was previously owned by a CEO who lived in Sydney and needed a base in Melbourne,” the agent said as she held the door open for them. “As you can see, it looks brand-new.”

“It would have to be for three million,” Damian said under his breath.

Lainey stifled a smile, standing close to him as he inspected the kitchen fittings. Marble benchtops gleamed as sunlight poured in from floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen was sizable, and all the fittings looked as though they’d never been used. He could correct that.

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