Page 60 of Unmasked

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LAINEYSHIFTEDONthe spot, trying to subtly tug at the bodice of her dress. This was the second time she’d stood at a fancy party in a borrowed dress, feeling wholly out of place. Only this time she didn’t have a mask to protect her.

“Try to smile, darling,” her new boss, Andre, said in his clipped British accent. “There are a lot of important people here.”

He wasn’t kidding. Though Lainey wasn’t up on the who’s who of British society, she certainly recognised many of the guests. Vivienne Westwood, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Stella McCartney. It was basically a London fashion week party minus the runway show.

“Of course.” Lainey nodded and pasted on a smile, but inside it felt like someone had dug her heart out with a spoon.

She’d been in London for only a day and was due to start work on Monday. Her boss was eager to take her out and introduce her to people, and she’d been ready to throw herself into work. She had started helping him pull together some sneak peeks for Instagram stories. But it wasn’t giving her the thrill she’d expected or hoped for.

Lainey had worked something out very quickly about Andre Lawrence-Jenkins. His social media strategy was less about building his business and more about making it seem like he lived a charmed life. Lainey would help him see that he needed a more well-rounded approach, but three days in wasn’t the time for that conversation. So she dutifully took pictures and made small talk and tried not to wish too hard that she was back in her apartment—wait, no, her flat—and tucked up in bed.

“Excuse me a minute.” She nodded to her boss, but he barely turned his attention away from the male model who’d come over to chat.

Thankful that she could slip away without argument, she headed toward a courtyard and put on her coat. A few people were smoking by the door, but they hadn’t ventured far due to the weather. It was the first time since Lainey landed that the rain had ceased, but it was still bitterly cold. However, air was necessary right now. Between the tight dress and the loud music and the ever-present threat of tears, she needed a moment alone.

Plonking herself down on a wrought iron bench, she shivered as the cold bit through her clothing. This should have been everything she wanted—an exciting new job, an invitation to an exclusive party, opportunities glittering in front of her like city lights. But she was as miserable as the weather. All she wanted was to hear Damian’s voice, to feel his lips on hers and the reassuring strength of his chest beneath her cheek.

But he’d rejected her. Confirmed that she would never have what she wanted with him. That her fantasies were stupid and childish, and she’d be forever alone. Or at least destined to continue dating morons because they didn’t remind her of him.

She pulled her grandmother’s compact out of her clutch and flicked it open. Inside she’d stashed a tiny photo of her with Imogen and Corinna, tucking it into the worn antique frame to keep it secure. The sight of her friends’ smiling faces made her heart hurt. She missed them already. She missed her family. And as much as she hated herself for it, she missed Damian, too.

It had been a surprise to learn that homesickness could manifest as actual sickness, and Lainey’s stomach had been tied in knots since the second she walked through the security gate at the airport. It was like her body rejected being away from them. People said the feeling would ease over time, but she wasn’t sure. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake.

“Is there room on that bench for one more?” A figure loomed over her—dark and imposing. The man wore an immaculate suit with a crisp white shirt and bloodred tie. Covering his face was a black mask.

But they weren’t at a masquerade ball.

Lainey shook her head. It couldn’t be him. He was supposed to be at home and she was supposed to be here, licking her wounds and trying to figure out how to deal with never having him. Maybe her homesickness had started to cause hallucinations as well as an upset stomach.

She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. No fever.

“You know this isn’t a costume party, right?” she said, frowning.

She stood and wrapped her arms around herself as she moved away from him. But he stopped her with his hand—gentle, yet firm. No one else walked that line like he did.

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?” he said. His fingers burned a hole through her coat, his warmth cutting through the layers of wool and cotton.

There was no doubt in her mind. Damian was here. With her. For her?

“I don’t need to ask.” She swallowed. “I know who you are, Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Ugly name, isn’t it? Curse my parents.” His full lips curved to a wicked smile beneath the mask. It made him look even more darkly handsome now that she knew what pleasure and havoc he could wreak on her. “And here I was hoping we’d get to play our guessing game again.”

“I’m done with the games.”

They were alone in the courtyard, the smokers having retreated as thunder clapped overhead. The rain would arrive any minute, and standing in the open was encouraging danger. But Lainey couldn’t move away—she was frozen. Stunned. And still not entirely certain this wasn’t a dream.

“So am I,” he said.

“Yet you’re here, wearing a mask. Why?”

“I needed to see you.” His cologne mingled with the heavy air, the scent of impending storm making it feel like she was experiencing him through a veil. It was otherworldly. Dreamlike. “I needed it like I have never needed anything else in all my life.”

Her breath stilled. Believing him was hard, because she’d fallen for him over and over again—her heart couldn’t take another hit. She was battered and bruised and still in recovery.

“How the hell did you even get in?” She glanced at the doors, which glowed with warm light. “This party is pretty exclusive, in case you didn’t know.”

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