Unmasked (New Adult Romance) (The Unmasked Series)

by Karin, Anya

  "Miss Barton? Are you ready? Mr. Webb would like you to appear in a half an hour." He knocked again, and called her name. "Miss Barton? Are you in there?" Gadsen tried the door and grunted through his nose when he opened, then closed the door.

  "Why is it so hard for young people to remember appointments?" He tromped back down the stairs.

  That was her cue to beat a hasty retreat. When she was relatively sure that he wasn't coming back, Alyssa slipped into the hallway that was then drenched in shadow. A look in either direction confirmed that she was alone, and she silently closed the door, and scampered back to her room on the balls of her feet.

  "Well, that was close," she exhaled as she sat on her bed and thoughtlessly pulled a pair of socks on her feet, without realizing they had not been there when she left. She yanked off her old shorts, and had a brief crisis before figuring out how the incredibly complicated but very beautiful dress was supposed to go on.

  Quickly, she threw herself together, and turned for the door before remembering everything she left lying around. After she tucked the scrapbook between the mattress and bed skirt, she turned again to leave, and remembered the two letters she had wanted so badly to get Gadsen away from before.

  "Two? I thought there was just the one?"

  Thirty seconds later, the door was closing and Alyssa was halfway down the stairs.

  "I can't imagine what was in those letters." She said under her breath. "Doesn't matter. Okay, Alyssa, put on a huge smile! You don't know anything at all. You spent a day wandering the gardens. Hopefully no one noticed you didn't actually do that."

  As soon as her feet hit the bottom of the stairwell and touched cold marble, she realized she had no shoes on. Then again, there weren't any in the room. I think. Too late now.

  The smell of spices, roasted vegetables, and something vaguely pumpkin-like struck her. She turned in the direction of all the nice smells and saw Gadsen facing her and another man with his back turned.

  Gadsen stepped forward.

  "Oh good evening, Miss Barton. Glad you could join us. Please, come this way. Mr. Webb has asked me to give you the normal accoutrement before you dine."

  In his hands, he cradled a three foot long swatch of black velvet.

  "Please, Miss Barton, this way."

  Chapter Eighteen

  "You know what all those television chefs say about vision being an important part of a meal?" Alyssa swirled her spoon in the soup that Gadsen put before her, lifted it to her nose and took a whiff. "I never believed it before now."

  Across the wide table, Preston chuckled softly and stirred his soup. "If it helps at all, it's pumpkin. And it's pretty good."

  He had a slight twist on the end of his words that only became apparent when he spoke above a whisper. It tilted upward, in a vaguely New England way, but the undertone in his voice was deep Texas.

  "Yeah, it tastes good, but I'm half afraid I'm gonna end up with an orange chin from jabbing myself with the spoon."

  "You're funny, Alyssa," he said. "I don't remember the last time someone made me laugh. Or relax, really."

  "When's the last time you had a guest?" If that's what you want to call me, anyway.

  "The last time...? Gadsen? I know you're back there. When was the last person here?"

  "We had the party on your parent's anniversary. That was two days ago."

  Two days? I was out longer than I thought. Or was I?

  After hearing Preston's gentle slurping, Lys took another spoonful of soup that bobbled against her lip before going inside. Preston's hand fell on top of hers, and his fingers wrapped around.

  "Oh, hello there." She said with a soft gasp.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Preston recoiled, but Lys held on.

  "No, no, don't apologize. Just startled me. Y'know, blindfold." Without thinking about it, she smiled her easy, disarming grin that normally only came out around people she knew very well, and for a long time. Much longer than two days – or was it three – stuck in a room against her will.

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, of course. It's nice to feel another person. I feel like I'm in a weird sensory deprivation chamber or something. I'm not used to talking to a person I can't see."

  "I'm not used to talking to people much at all."

  She opened her mouth and then, thinking about what he said, snapped it shut.

  "I don't know why things have to be this way. There are a lot of things I can't explain, Alyssa, no matter how much I want to. There's a lot of history in this house. A lot behind the things I do that I can't talk about." He sighed, heavily. There was a weight on his chest, but it wasn't going anywhere. "But, soon, I promise I'll-"

  "Main course is served, sir." Gadsen's voice emerged from the kitchen. "Miss Barton, do you take heavy sauce on your salmon?"

  "I, uh..."

  "I recommend it," Preston stepped in, "it's very good. And maybe heavier flavors carry better when you're blindfolded."

  "Okay, sure, yeah," she said. "Heavy on the sauce, then."

  "Fine. You've barely touched your soup, is something wrong with it?"

  "No, I liked what I had." She paused for a moment. "Just saving room."

  "Hmm. Can I take your bowl?" Before she replied, the butler replaced her bowl with a plate that smelled of lemongrass and spice.

  Alyssa furrowed her brow, but stayed quiet.

  "What was I saying?" Preston said when Gadsen had gone back to the kitchen.

  "I don't like him. He creeps me out." Lys whispered quickly, quietly. "It feels like he's watching me. All the time. I don't know how to explain it, but-"

  Preston squeezed her hand and she shut up.

  "Gadsen," he called, "could you go down to the cellar and get a different bottle? I think I'm in the mood for a sweeter red.

  "Yes sir, of course."

  "Wait," Preston hissed, still squeezing Alyssa's hand. "Wait for the door."

  As soon as the cellar thudded shut, Preston started talking again, low and fast.

  "Did you read the letters I left you?"

  "No, I forgot them. I-"

  "Read them as soon as you get back to your room. While you were reading my parents' love letters, some things changed. There's not much I can say right now to clarify, but please read those letters and follow them exactly. There's to be a short window tomorrow where you won't be under any scrutiny."

  "Scrutiny? What do you mean?"

  "You were right. He is watching you. He knows exactly what you're doing all the time. But, for a few minutes tomorrow, the network is going down for maintenance. It's all in the letters. There's no time to explain right now."

  Alyssa's breath stuck in her throat.

  "Do you understand?"

  She nodded, unable to say anything useful.

  "I – why am I here?"

  "It's in the letters. The letters have everything you need to know. Please, please trust me. There isn't much time until...No, doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," she said. "The bruises don't hurt anywhere near as much as they should. But I'm terrified, damn it! I've been locked in a room for two days – three? I don't even know anymore. I'm just a normal girl from a normal family in a normal town and here I am swept up into a wild story that's hard to believe. How do I know I'm not dreaming? What's going on?"

  At the end of her inquisition, Alyssa's lip began to tremble. For the first time since arriving, the pressure had finally got to her. The strangeness, the alien feeling of being shut away in what may as well be a prison cell with no reason for it, not a single clue, drilled into her head.

  "What did I do to deserve this? I'm a good person, Preston. I really am. I just take care of my little brother and sister and help. On Saturday night I was to go to the old folks' home and play bingo. On Sundays I sit around and play checkers with my dad. Why am I here? Please!"

  "Lower your voice," he hissed. "You're not safe and I'm not either. As to why you're here, read the letters." He paused between each
word, his strange accent giving each syllable urgency. "I can't talk about it now because I have no idea whether or not Gadsen is going to come back at any moment."

  Behind the blindfold, Alyssa wept tears that soaked into the velvet as soon as she cried them. Her chest quivered, and she let out a shudder that wracked her entire body. Just one. Preston squeezed her hand.

  The cellar clanged again.

  "Eat your food, at least a little." He whispered. "You're going to need the energy."

  "Is something the matter sir? Oh goodness, Miss Barton, is everything okay?"

  Before she could respond, Preston told the butler that she was just having a hard time adjusting to her sore ribs, that she got a sting when she breathed and it had her scared. That seemed to disarm the bomb.

  "I'll be sure to give you some medicine for the pain this evening."

  Right I'm sure you will. And I'll be sure to toss it straight out the damn window.

  "I think she'll be okay, Gadsen. Just a little upset is all. The salmon is delicious." Preston's fork slid across the plate with a little scraping sound. He chewed, swallowed, and moaned a dramatic "mmm!"

  Lys spent a few seconds finding the fish on her plate then did the same. The instant her lips touched the food, her stomach rumbled violently.

  "You might want to bring her another one, Gadsen." Preston chuckled at the ferocity with which Alyssa ravaged her fish. "Would you like more potatoes too?"

  She shook her head, "just fish," she mumbled. "And sauce."

  Five minutes later, she destroyed another sauce-drenched fillet.

  Ten minutes later, Alyssa was somehow sipping scalding hot coffee, and managed not to spill any of it.

  By eight-thirty, she was back in her room, the deadbolt was shut, and she fished the letters from the mattress, and settled into the chair. A quick glance around the room didn't reveal any obvious cameras, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

  The first letter was hastily crammed into an envelope and sealed. She pried up the flap and three rose petals fell out when she pulled the letter free. Picking one up, she rubbed it between her fingers as she read:

  "Alyssa,

  There is something you need to know about this place. Things are not what they seem. The butler, who seems very friendly, is not. Don't trust him. Peter, the man who brought you to me, is the head of my security team, and is trying currently to figure out a way to get us out of here. I've been a prisoner of this place since I was born. There is too much to tell, but you will find, in a room nearly adjacent to yours, and in the east wing of the up-stairs, a book containing letters between my parents which may give you some insight. Please find that book.

  "For most of my life, I was convinced that my mother died giving birth to me, as a result of my condition. I'm now not so sure. If you have time, and you find the letters, they might provide some clues, but that's not your battle. That's not your purpose.

  "Without explaining everything in far too much detail, for which I do not have time before he returns, you need to know that Gadsen watches everything you do. He has a network of security cameras that are hidden all over the house, and somewhere – I'm not sure where – has a room from where he can watch."

  Reading what she already had been told made Alyssa's heart thump in her chest. "So he did know I wasn't where he told me to be. He knew I was in those rooms. But if that's true, why didn't he come get me? Unless..." Shaking her head, Lys read further. Preston's handwriting got a bit shaky in the middle of the letter, as though he was either in a tremendous hurry or he, like she, had something to fear if discovered.

  "There will be a short window tomorrow where the cameras are off. This does not happen very often, in fact, I don't remember the last time that it did. He's having something done to the network. I can ably run an oil business and manipulate my board members to do whatever I want, but for the life of me, network administration does not work with my brain."

  She giggled a little at his joke before continuing:

  "Tomorrow, sometime before noon, the network will go down. I don't know how I will signal this to you, but be ready for anything that seems to be a sign. I might have Peter sing a song under your window. It might be a gunshot. I just don't know. Anything out of the ordinary, you must be ready to move. Once you hear or see the signal, you need to find Gadsen's nerve center, and re-route three of the cameras. One of them films the cellar. Another camera films the back of the foyer, and the third records what happens in Gadsen's own quarters out back of the estate. With Peter's help, I figured out that some kind of record is held in one of those places. I will wait for you to accomplish what I need from you, then signal me somehow before I search."

  "I'm a spy?" Alyssa crinkled her eyebrows at the letter. "How the hell am I supposed to accomplish all this?" Lys's heart pounded harder and faster. She tried to read further, but had to put the letter down for a second. "Alright, get yourself together, Alyssa."

  "But, whatever I find will, I believe, show me exactly whatreally happened to my parents, and how I came to be in this strange situation. If I can find those answers, then I'll also know how you fit into the whole picture and what we can do, if anything, to save ourselves. Now, burn this letter. Do not keep it, no matter how badly you want to. I have left a packet of matches in your drawer. Hold it out the window, burn it and let the wind carry the ashes. I'll see them from my window. I'll be watching until you do."

  The letter closed with a cryptic 'thank you for everything you've already done, and will do. You have no idea what this means to me' and a sweeping, script-like letter P.

  She sat back and took a deep breath that rattled in her chest when it exited. She opened the second letter, barely able to keep her hands from shaking long enough to read the brief note.

  "Sorry for a second letter. Very quick. I don't know where you've gone off to, but I suspect it has something to do with a scrapbook and sneaking. Very quickly – there are two places to check for Gadsen's monitor room – the kitchen and an office off the foyer. You'll have to be quick and you'll have to be sneaky, but I believe in you. You're the last hope I have." The P at the end of that letter was smaller, much more rushed.

  You believe in me? Why? Why would he believe I could manage this ridiculous stunt? Who does he think I am?

  She put the letter on the table. Lys stood up, pushed back the chair and did as she was told with the letters. Hanging out the window, the ashes fell for a half-second straight down, then caught a wind and blew up and to the left. Looking down, she saw that there was a huge air conditioner unit right below her and grinned.

  "He knew that was going to happen. You've really got yourself in deep this time, Alyssa. How do you do this?"

  With a heavy sigh, she let the curtains fall closed so that only a sliver of silver came through them. The rest of the room was completely dark when she turned off the reading lamp beside her chair and flopped down on the bed, exhausted from all the worrying and confusion.

  "Who is this man who has decided I'm a spy?" Sticking her hand between the mattress and the bedframe, Lys pulled the blank scrapbook out and ran her hand over the marbled cover. "Did someone buy this thing with every intention of keeping a record of a new baby in it, and then get forget?" She shook her head. "No, not forget. Someone bought this and then died."

  She stretched her arms above her head, grimacing a little when her shoulder throbbed at the extreme. "Well, nothing much to do about it right now. May as well try to get a little sleep. Or more likely, lay here for eight hours and stare at a ceiling."

  And then, with almost impeccable timing, a knock broke the silence and almost shocked her out of her nervousness.

  "Are you awake?" The soft, smooth voice she was used to hearing drifted under the door. "Alyssa?"

  "I'm awake, is that you, Preston?" She knew the answer, but for some reason wanted to hear him say it.

  "Yes, it's me. Were you expecting someone else?" He laughed a dry laugh. "Are the curtains closed?"

  "Y
es, well mostly. The moon is just barely coming through. Is that okay?"

  She gripped the sheet and squeezed.

  "Is the lamp off? No lights?"

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  "It's off. No lights."

  "Are you lying?"

  "I wouldn't do that. Not to you. I understand what it's like."

  "Do you? How?"

  "We've all got our secrets. There aren't any lights on. You have to trust me."

  That familiar sliding, metal-on-wood sound whispered through the room, caressing Alyssa's ears, calming her nerves.

  A warm light silhouetted the tall man who stepped inside. The features of his face were shrouded, but seeing his shape, his body even in outline, brought a smile to Lys's lips.

  Preston pushed the door closed, but Lys stopped him.

  "Not yet."

  "What?"

  "Don't close it. I can't see your face. I can't see whatever it is you're hiding. But please just let me look at you for a moment. Open the door a little more. Please?"

  Without saying anything, the figure extended a foot and did as she asked.

  "Say your name," she whispered.

  "Why?"

  "Just...please?"

  "Preston," he said with a nervous giggle at the end.

  "Preston what?"

  "Webb."

  "Say the whole thing. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe I'm here, I can't believe you're real. Everything has just happened so fast and you doing this makes me feel like I'm not going to wake up any second now and have you disappear. Say your whole name."

  "Preston Webb."

  Before the door swung shut, before the lights had faded completely, Alyssa drew a breath through her nose filled with the vague, bare hint of roses.

  "Who are you, Preston Webb?"

  In the instant before his lips touched hers, Preston's hand slid along Alyssa's arm. His fingers were warm, and goose bumps followed them down to her hand.

  "I'm not sure. I don't think I am who I always thought I was. But I do know one thing."

  "What's that?" She craned her neck and kissed his throat, the rasp of his late-evening beard scratching her barely opened lips.