by JC Harroway
‘Now this project is almost complete, I’m planning a new venture.’ The crinkle between his brows was starting to freak her out. Where was her charming, relaxed Frenchman and his lunch-break promises? She swallowed, her throat dry.
His gaze settled on her, unreadable.
‘I’ll need a business partner. And as we work so well together, I wondered if you’d be interested?’
She touched his cheek, the air leaving her in a whoosh.
‘You had me scared for a moment.’ She laughed. ‘I thought you were going to say you’re permanently relocating to France.’ She shivered, looping her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoes to press her lips to his. ‘I’d love to work with you again. But how tight is the timeframe? My second store is opening soon, and I have another fashion week to plan.’ She brushed a speck from the shoulder of his impeccable suit.
He pressed his lips together, clear disappointment tightening his mouth.
‘The timeframe is tight. I need an answer today.’
Harley sighed, stepping back so he lost his grip around her waist. ‘I wish you’d given me a bit more notice. I don’t think I can commit to anything more right now, otherwise, when will we see each other?’ As a couple they were busy enough—no way would she compromise her Jack time. And he felt the same. Why was he being so mulish?
He pinned her with a hot look.
‘Don’t you think you should ask me what the project involves, before you turn it down? I’ve even spoken to Hal about the opportunity.’
‘What? You discussed business, with my father?’ Why would Jack take Hal’s advice and what was so important?
Jack nodded. ‘He’s fully on board with this project.’
She snorted, fisting her hands on her hips, feathers well and truly ruffled. ‘Hal can kiss my—’
Jack pressed his fingers against her lips, blocking the tirade.
‘I really think you should reconsider.’ He took her hand, pressing her knuckles to his mouth while he slanted his bedroom stare her way.
‘Since when are you and Hal partners?’ This was news to her. Yes, she and her father had come to an understanding for the sake of family harmony—he butted out of her life and she was polite and respectful for her mother’s sake. But Jack, Hal and her working together...? Had he lost his mind?
‘Just look over the proposal.’ He reached inside his breast pocket. ‘If it’s not for you...’ Another Gallic shrug. But this time his eyes danced with a mix of passion and playfulness.
She looked down.
Jack held out his hand, slowly uncurling his fingers.
Her brain shut down completely. Her heart thundered into her throat.
In the centre of his palm sat an exquisite gold solitaire. Harley’s burning eyes shot to his, which shone with love and promise and so much more.
‘Harley, you were my first love. Will you be my last? Will you marry me?’
The tears blinded her. But then she was in his arms, where she belonged. She peppered his laughing face with frantic kisses.
‘Yes, yes, I will.’
Jack took her hand and slid the ring home. ‘This belonged to my grandmother Demont. She was an heiress, a humanitarian, and a fighter just like you. Never change.’ He pressed his mouth to hers, and she sank into him, never needing to be anywhere else.
He held her close, her head tucked under his chin. The stone gleamed on her finger, a perfect fit.
‘So you’re not going into business with Hal?’
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest under her cheek.
‘No, apart from becoming his son-in-law.’
Harley pulled back.
‘But you went to speak with him? That couldn’t have been easy.’
He shrugged. ‘You’re worth it.’ He grew serious. ‘And I didn’t want to be at war with the family of the woman I love. I’m not made that way. I don’t play dirty.’
‘Good. I don’t want you dirty.’ She pressed her mouth to his. ‘Well, not outside of the bedroom, anyway.’
He laughed, his heated stare wicked.
Jack tugged her closer, his voice dropping to a sexy growl.
‘Now there I can be as filthy as you like, ma belle.’
‘The best,’ she whispered.
They sealed the deal with a kiss.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from UNMASKED by Stefanie London.
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Unmasked
by Stefanie London
CHAPTER ONE
LAINEY KLINE STARED at the chocolate cake, which had the words sorry I’m leaving you piped in shaky white icing. Was an apology dessert over the top? Subtlety had never been her style, and announcing that she had secured a new job—and planned to relocate from Melbourne to London—required a special touch. A special chocolate touch.
Her two best friends, Imogen and Corinna, stared at her. “You’re breaking up with us via cake?” Imogen said. “Seriously?”
“This isn’t a breakup,” Lainey replied, trying her hardest to replicate the positive spiel she’d practised in front of her mirror. “I’m simply suggesting a long-distance
relationship.”
Imogen shook her head. “A month is not enough time to say goodbye.”
“I can’t believe you kept it quiet for a whole week.” Corinna grinned.
The three of them sat at the picnic table in Corinna’s parents’ backyard. Even though Corinna had moved out two years ago, the three women still loved to congregate at the McKnight family home, especially during the summer. Their lush, sprawling garden was filled with native trees that attracted colourful birds like rosellas and galahs. Their song usually soothed Lainey, but not today.
“It wasn’t easy, believe me.” Lainey watched the bubbles race to the top of her champagne flute. “When I booked the flight, I wanted to scream it from the rooftops. But I had to tell you both at once, and you two are so difficult to coordinate.”
Between Imogen’s long hours and Corinna’s bustling social schedule, it’d taken a week to find a day where they were both free. But that was their deal—all news had to be shared as a group. Easier to avoid the whole “three’s a crowd” issue if there were no favourites. But it wouldn’t be like that for much longer. Worry stabbed Lainey in the gut. She knew her best friends would grow closer once she left; hopefully they wouldn’t forget about her altogether.
Hence the cake. Hard to forget about a person who piped her apologies in buttercream.
“So, hairdresser to the stars, huh? Maybe you’ll end up doing the royal family.” Imogen forced a smile, but her eyes glimmered with moisture. “Well, Prince Harry, anyway. Poor old Wills hasn’t got much left. He’s already in comb-over territory.”
“I doubt they’ll let me near the royals,” Lainey said, reaching for the big knife next to the cake and slicing straight through sorry. “Besides, I’ll be more focused on the social media side of things.”
Lainey had been a hairdresser ever since she walked out of school on her sixteenth birthday. Now she had eight years in the industry, which was by far the longest time she’d ever stuck to anything. Certainly longer than her failed attempts at reading tarot cards or working as a Red Bull promo girl. Two years ago, bored and desperate for creativity, she’d started posting her hairstyles on Instagram. Within a year, she’d amassed over a million followers and had brands foaming at the mouth to work with her.
Then she’d parlayed that into a gig as a social media consultant with a well-known celebrity hairstylist in London.
“But the contract is only six months, right?” Imogen asked as she handed a slice of cake to Corinna. “Then you’ll come back?”
“I’m hoping they’ll put me on permanently.” The finality of the move settled in the pit of Lainey’s stomach.
“Of course we’ll miss you,” Corinna said, shooting Imogen a look, “but I’m glad you’ve found a way to turn your passion into a job. This sounds like an amazing opportunity.”
With the scent of eucalyptus on the breeze and the late-afternoon sun beating down, Lainey wondered if she should have picked another location for her big announcement. There were so many memories here. And, as excited as she was about her new job, the thought of leaving her best friends behind made her feel ill. Like her body physically rejected the idea of them being apart.
It’s for the best. You’ve been miserable, and a fresh start is exactly what you need.
“I’m happy for you, too,” Imogen said, her words a little blurred around the edges. The girl was a total lightweight—two champagnes and she was already entering tipsyville. “But I do wish you’d been able to find such a cool job here.”
“I need to get away.” Much to her horror, Lainey’s voice wobbled.
Imogen frowned. “Get away from what?”
A confession hovered on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to blurt her secret, but what was the point? The decision was made. She was leaving in one short month, and Lainey made it a rule not to dwell on the negative.
“I just meant there are more opportunities overseas,” she said carefully. “I’m going nowhere here. Marsha didn’t seem to care that I resigned, since she thinks we’re all replaceable, and it’s not like I have a relationship to tie me down. Thank God.”
She hoped the booze would prevent Imogen from noticing how false Lainey’s voice sounded. Corinna raised a brow but mercifully didn’t press for more information.
“But you’re sworn to secrecy,” Lainey went on. “I want to tell everyone else myself.” She looked them both in the eye and smiled when they nodded. “I’d rather people hear it directly from me.”
Although the interview process for this job had been going on for almost two months, Lainey hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone until she’d signed a contract and booked her flight a week ago. Part of her hadn’t really believed it would happen. Even now, the whole thing felt a little surreal.
“Have you got a ‘before I leave the motherland’ bucket list?” Corinna asked. “There must be something you want to do before you go.”
Not something, but someone. Lainey’s move was as much about chasing her career dreams as it was about escaping the futility of her situation in Melbourne. She’d done something dumb. Idiotic. Monumentally stupid.
An action that might one day be documented in her memoir, under the title “Ways I Like to Torture Myself.”
Over the years, Lainey had developed a gigantic crush on the one guy who was totally and utterly out of reach. The one guy who wouldn’t look twice at her—Corinna’s big brother.
Worse, seeing Damian McKnight get married, divorced and then pimped out on Australia’s Most Eligible had torn her up inside. All her dreams for turning her adoration of rom-coms into a romantic reality had vanished. The only solution was to be somewhere else, so she could focus on the important stuff—like her career—and forget that she was doomed to have a miserable love life because she wanted the one man she couldn’t have.
“This is the perfect opportunity to go wild,” Corinna said. “You can do whatever you like here, then flit off to England without consequences. Surely there’s someone you’ve always wished you could have it out with. Maybe a crazy customer that you hate?”
“Or maybe I should tell your brother I think he’s hot,” Lainey said with a wink. Corinna pretended to stick her fingers down her throat, and the three women laughed.
It was a running gag—both Lainey and Imogen considered Damian McKnight to be the highest level of hotness—usually reserved for the Hemsworth brothers and Prince Harry. But jokes were the only thing keeping Lainey’s deep-seated attraction a secret—because the more she overplayed it, the less they believed it was anything serious. Therefore, she could hide in plain sight.
He was her Prince Charming, her Mr. Darcy, the Harry to her Sally. The Danny to her Sandra Dee. The only guy who’d ever truly known her.
“Speaking of Damian,” Corinna said, “did you know he scored a ticket to the Carmina Ball?”
“Wow.” Imogen blinked. “My sister’s stupid fiancé is going...without her, I might add, which has shocked absolutely no one.”
The Carmina Ball was something Lainey only knew about from drooling over red carpet dresses online. It was invite only and distinctly too upper-crust for lowly hairdressers like her.
“Apparently it’s five grand to attend,” Imogen added. “Five. Freaking. Grand!”
“I bet that’s a drop in the ocean to them,” Lainey said, rolling her eyes. “But still, Damian must be excited he scored an invite.”
“Who knows with him?” Corinna shrugged. “That guy seems to have a permanent scowl on his face these days. I told him to be careful—the wind might change and then he’ll be stuck with that ugly mug for the rest of his life.”
Lainey snorted. “I’d still do him.”
Imogen almost choked on her cake as Corinna visibly shuddered and said, “You guys are disgusting.”
“He’s cute, Cori. I know you’re related, but you have to admit it.” Imogen grinned.
/>
“We are not talking about my brother,” Corinna said. “Besides, I want to know what the gossip is with your sister, Immie. You’re telling me Richie Rich couldn’t afford to get her a ticket?”
“He said that it’s going to be all business and that he’d rather spend the money to take her on a romantic getaway to some fancy-pants resort in Thailand than get her a ticket to the ball.” Imogen’s lips curled back into an uncharacteristic sneer. “But I think it’s because he’s cheating on her with someone who’ll be there.”
“Whoa.” Lainey held up her hands. “Since when is he cheating on her?”
“Penny said something that has been bothering me for ages. Dan goes to Sydney a few days each month for work.” Imogen toyed with her pearl earring. “Last month I was at the Boatbuilders Yard in South Wharf having drinks with people from work, and I saw him.”
“But he was supposed to be in Sydney?” Corinna asked.
“Yep, and I’d spoken to Penny that afternoon. She said he wasn’t coming back until the following night.” She gritted her teeth. “I didn’t know what to do. He was with this blonde and they looked like they were flirting, but I lost him in the crowd.”
“Did you tell Penny?” Lainey asked.
Imogen sighed. “I tried to, but she accused me of hating him from day one. She wouldn’t listen.”
“Perhaps he came home early,” Lainey suggested. “He might’ve been called back for a meeting. It could be completely innocent.”
“I can’t explain it...” Imogen sighed. “I know something is going on. I’m sure of it.”
“What are you going to do?” Lainey asked.
Imogen fished her phone out of her pocket and pulled up a photo of a woman wearing a mask. It was covered in pink stones, the colour of rosé. White feathers sprayed up from the top, and lengths of super-fine chain in rose gold hung down in elegant loops on either side.
“Is that you?” Lainey asked, and Imogen nodded. “I’m not following.”