by Mora Early
The man, who Emma belatedly realized was Sheila McNamara’s husband Sean, frowned. “I did? And you told me?”
“I did.” She scanned the living room as they stepped off the last stair but caught no sign of Josh’s wavy blond hair. He was easy to spot in a crowd, as tall as he was.
Sean McNamara suddenly slid his arm around her waist to pull her closer. “Hey yeah! You’re Bertram’s latest bit of skirt.” He leaned down to nuzzle sloppily at her ear. “The wife says you’re one of those trashy girls, used to work at a strip joint. What d’ya say? Can I buy a dance?” His hand dipped down to her ass, squeezing. Emma jerked out of his grasp.
“No. And your wife is a vicious twit who should keep her judgments to herself,” she hissed, trying not to draw attention to herself. “Oh, and she has terrible taste in decor, too!” She spun on her heel and wove her way toward the front foyer. She heard Sean muttering, “Geez, Bertram’s new wife is a bitch,” to someone as she stalked away.
She gripped the watch with white knuckles as she collected her wrap from one of the footmen. Once she slipped the heirloom into her purse, she felt slightly better. She was nearly home free. With a small sigh, she dropped Josh’s bright half-mask into the purse, as well, and snapped it closed.
Outside, she resisted the urge to tap her foot and chew her thumbnail as she waited for her driver to bring her limo around. She forced herself to stay in character, flirting with one of the footmen, swaying a little as if she’d had a bit too much to drink. Emma guessed she was convincing, because the footman helped her into the car when it arrived and told her to get home safely. He also slipped her a card with his number on it. She took it with a wink at the young man. He couldn’t be older than twenty-one.
She watched out of the limousine’s tinted rear window as they drew away from Josh’s house. Emma wasn’t expecting him to run out after her, shaking his fist, or anything. Still, she watched the front door until it was out of sight.
As soon as they made it down the long driveway, she tossed the footman’s card out the window and slumped back against her seat. “How quickly can you get me back to my own car?” she asked the driver. Now that the surge of desire and adrenaline had faded, she felt exhausted, drained, and curiously empty.
“Be about thirty minutes at this time of night, ma’am.”
She rubbed at her temple and at the headache beginning to gather there. She should be feeling triumphant. She usually did, after pulling off one of Todd’s mad ideas. But not this time. “That’s fine, thank you.”
She just needed to get home to her brother. Once she recounted the night to him, the thrill of her achievement would kick in. Well, maybe she wouldn’t relay the whole night. Her baby brother hardly needed to know that she’d practically let their mark make love to her against his bedroom door. That part could just remain her little secret.
Emma opened her clutch again, pulling the watch out and cradling it in her palm. She opened it, tracing her finger lightly over the engraving on the inside. The watch had originally been a gift from their great-to-the-nth grandmother to their just-as-great grandfather on their 60th wedding anniversary. Their initials were inscribed inside, along with the date of their wedding and a piece of poetry. She’d memorized the poem as a young girl, weaving romantic fantasies about her ancestors. She rubbed her fingertip over the words again, speaking them softly into the darkness.
“Only our love hath no decay; this no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday, running it never runs from us away, but truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.”
It was John Donne. She’d looked it up. And while she’d never been terribly interested in poetry, she’d always liked this bit of verse. It had appealed to a lonely, sentimental girl who’d dreamed of a fairytale Prince Charming who would fall in love with her and sweep her off her feet. Of course, she didn’t believe in any of that now. Not that it mattered.
What mattered was that she’d done it. She’d recovered the watch that their father had passed on to her brother, just as his father had once passed it on to him. The watch was where it belonged. It was a reminder of the only family she had left, and that was worth whatever she’d had to go through to get it. Wasn’t it?
“Yes.”
“Pardon, ma’am?” the driver asked.
“Nothing,” Emma replied, closing the watch and tucking it back into her purse. “Just talking to myself, is all.”
The car drew to a halt. “We’re here,” he said, unnecessarily. Emma leaned forward, passing him a handful of bills as a tip.
“Thank you.”
“Welcome, ma’am. Want me to get that door for you?” He tipped his hat back and rubbed his nose.
Emma shook her head. “I can manage. Have a good night.”
“You too. Drive safe.”
She waited until the driver pulled away before she climbed into her car and started it. She drove toward home, glad she wasn’t far away. She couldn’t wait to peel out of this dress and mask and crawl into bed.
Emma stifled her still-sullen hormones, which were quick to point out that she could have been out of the dress and curled up in bed beside an equally naked Josh Owens already, if she had just stuck around at the ball. That was not going to happen. Not tonight, not ever. In fact, aside from the post-party follow up, she’d most likely never see the handsome producer again.
She unlocked her front door and slipped inside her quiet apartment, studiously ignoring the pang that shot through her at the idea of never seeing Josh again. She immediately took off her shoes, sighing in relief at the touch of cool tile against her aching feet. But thoughts of her feet reminded her of dancing with Josh, flirting with him. It had been fun. In her masquerade persona, she didn’t need to walk on eggshells around him, constantly concerned about his position as a wealthy client. She’d been able to let down her guard.
That’s the way it had always been, oddly enough. Emma was never more herself than when she was pretending to be someone else. She chuckled at the absurdity of it and glanced into the living room. No Todd on the couch. He must still be asleep in her bed. Great. Now, she’d have to fight for space, too.
She tiptoed into her room, setting the purse containing the rescued watch on her bedside table. Tomorrow, she’d see about putting it somewhere safe. She wasn’t about to risk letting it fall right back into her reckless brother’s hands. But, crazy mad schemer or not, she loved Todd. She smiled down at him. He looked so innocent, sleeping with his lips parted in a soft snore. She brushed his hair back from his forehead and dropped a quick kiss there.
“We did it, T-rex,” she whispered.
Chapter 11
“I thought you’d be in a better mood.” Ben put his feet up on Josh’s desk, his legs crossed at the ankles. He puffed on his cigar, brows raised. “Your ball was a huge success. The people at Children of Hope are going to name a building after you once they see how much you took in. Even after you pay for the party, it’s still going to be, what, something like 7 million in donations?”
Josh stared morosely at the expensive Cuban in his hand, not even tasting the rich tobacco. “They’ll get the whole 7.6 million.”
Ben shook his head and blew a lazy smoke ring. “Paying for the party out of your own pocket? You’re a hell of a guy, Owens. And Ransler’s going to figure that out when you meet with him. Which, I might remind you, was the whole point of holding the ball.”
“I know.” Josh puffed on the cigar, staring up at the smoke undulating against his office ceiling. Ben was right. He’d gotten his meeting with William Ransler. He was one step closer to securing the project he’d been working on for the better part of two years. He should be doing a damn jig.
“So, why aren’t you enjoying this mighty fine cigar and delicious glass of brandy with your best friend? Why is there no cat-that-got-the-canary grin on your handsome Hollywood face? Why am I celebrating alone, man?” Ben swung his feet down, his heels thunking on the floor.
Josh’s eyes dropped to his best friend
. Ben was leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he studied Josh’s face. Josh wondered what he was saw. His face felt rather numb and stiff, like he’d been out in the cold too long. He wasn’t entirely sure what, if any, expression he had on it.
“What happened last night, man?” Ben asked, his brow furrowed. “You disappeared halfway through the ball, looking for some mystery woman in a butterfly mask, and when you turned back up you looked like someone just broke your Boba Fett figurine.”
That surprised a chuckle out of Josh. “Hey, that figure was a collector’s item! If I still had it, undamaged, today it would be worth a nice chunk of change.”
Ben sipped his brandy, the corners of his mouth turning down. “You’re not answering my question, man.”
Josh didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to think about the playful, sensuous, mysterious Madame Butterfly at all. Sharp disappointment still cut at him. He had practically danced back into his bedroom last night, a bottle of cold champagne in one hand and a bowl of strawberries in the other. Strawberries, because when he’d seen them in the kitchen, he’d imagined eating them off the creamy table of her flesh, licking away the trickle of juices. He couldn’t resist snatching them off the counter and bringing them with him. He threw open the door, his heart spinning like a top in anticipation, his eyes flying to the bed.
Throughout his ten-minute journey to the kitchen, he had been picturing her lithe, golden body sprawled on his sheets wearing nothing but her mask and those dangerously spiked heels. The image was so strong in his mind that, for a moment, he did see her, just like that. His heart slammed against his ribs and he was hard as a rock in an instant. Then he blinked. He stood there stupidly, staring around the empty room, until his arms grew tired of holding the champagne and strawberries.
Then, he set them down on top of his dresser and began to hunt. He searched the room, as if she’d be hiding in the closet or under the bed. Hot anger burned the back of his throat at the thought. He’d checked under the damn bed like an idiot. But she’d been gone, no explanation, no sign that she’d ever even existed.
If his life were a movie, she would have left something behind: an earring, a locket, or even a shoe, like Cinderella fleeing the ball. Something he could turn over in his hands, stare at whenever the memory of her seemed like a dream. Something he could use to find her again. But there was nothing tangible except for memories: the feel of her skin beneath his palms, the taste of her lips, the scent of her hair. That’s all she’d left him. That and a sense of frustration and loss.
He shook his head at Ben. “I found her. The mystery woman. And then . . . she left.”
“Ah.” Ben leaned back in the chair. His lips twitched, and he cocked a brow in surprised amusement. “Like that, is it? She’s the reason you’re moping instead of celebrating.”
Josh sipped his brandy and then sucked in a long breath as it spread warmth throughout his chest. It did nothing to melt the ball of ice there, though. “Something like that.” He couldn’t explain it to his friend, because he didn’t really understand it himself. All he knew was that when she kissed him, he felt as if she’d lit him on fire. Now, he felt like ashes.
Ben toasted him with his snifter. “Well, why don’t you just look her up?”
He’d thought about it. The second he’d realized she really was not in the bedroom, he’d searched the hall. He’d woven his way through the crowds in the ballroom, ignoring a lot of shouted greetings and claps on the back. Downstairs, he’d circled through every game room, the dining room and the conservatory twice. She hadn’t been anywhere in the house. He didn’t know her name, or even what she looked like beneath her mask. There was nowhere to start looking. She hadn’t left behind a single clue to her identity.
“She doesn’t want to be found, Ben.” Josh spun his chair around so his friend couldn’t see the expression on his face. He was worried it would reveal just how much that bothered him. Apart from the attraction and the incendiary chemistry between them, he’d thought she genuinely liked him. At least, it had seemed that way.
He heard the clink of crystal and the glug of liquid as Ben poured himself some more brandy. Ben’s chair creaked as he shifted and sighed. “Is that going to stop you looking?”
Josh opened his mouth to reply, to tell his friend to lay off, that he didn’t want to talk about her anymore, when the door to his curio cabinet caught his eye. The open door to his curio cabinet. Josh narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer. It was only cracked the slightest bit, but it was open. He knew he’d left it closed. And locked.
Just before the ball last night, he’d returned the watch to its place on the shelf because the weight of it in his pocket made his tuxedo pants sag. He’d closed the cabinet door and locked it but hadn’t bothered to take the key with him, since the room itself would be locked. The key was in the lock, right where he’d left it. The watch, however, was gone. The small stand of polished wood on which it had rested was tipped over.
The hallway door had still been locked. He’d had to unlock it this afternoon to let Ben in. There was only one other door to get in here, and only one person who would have had access to that door. Josh felt a brief stab of anger. Is that what prompted her teasing seduction? His hand clenched around the snifter. But, no. Perhaps he was only being vain, but Josh refused to believe it had all been an act. She’d wanted him every bit as much as he’d wanted her. He was sure of it.
Still, there was no way this was a coincidence. Madame Butterfly had lured him into his bedroom and then sent him for that blasted champagne so that she could break into his office. So she could get his watch. Well, he thought of it as his. But he’d won it in a poker game not long ago. He remembered the grinning, jittery young man who’d lost the watch. He’d been new to the game: naive and overconfident. He’d gone nuclear when Josh had turned over his cards. Several of the guys had had to escort him out of the house while he yelled about how he ‘couldn’t lose that watch’. And now it was missing. Josh chuckled quietly. It looked like his mystery woman had left him a clue after all.
He spun his chair back around, a grin stretching his cheeks. Ben’s heavy brows crawled up his forehead as he took in Josh’s new expression. Josh leaned back in his chair, puffing the cigar, finally able to enjoy the rich, heady taste of the premium tobacco.
“No, Ben. It’s not going to stop me looking at all. Not at all,” he replied with relish. He toasted Ben, raising the glass of brandy to his lips. The warm, mellow explosion of flavor that bloomed on his tongue and slid down his throat tasted a thousand times better than it had just moments ago. And the heat in his chest and belly became the fire of excitement again. “My friend, I’ve got a job for you.”
From the Author
I’d like to thank you for taking the time to read my very first story :)
I hope you’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.
I welcome any suggestions, questions or just a general chat. You can contact me direct at my personal email address: [email protected]
Also I’ll really appreciate it if you’d take just a few seconds to leave me feedback on Amazon.
Thank you :)
~ Mora x ~
Table of Contents
Twisted Arrangement