Читать книгу Unmasked / Inked - Stefanie London - Страница 12

CHAPTER TWO

DAMIAN’S WEEK HAD started bad and ended in a steaming pile of crap. Seeing Lainey over the weekend had distracted him with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts, which made him guilty and snappy. He was like Snow White’s rejected eighth dwarf.

Distraction he could handle. Failure, on the other hand...that was not tolerable.

“How’d the meeting go?” Aaron reached for his gin and tonic. They’d arranged to meet at their usual place, an older bar that was no longer trendy, which therefore meant you could get decent service. Plus, with the Carmina Ball happening tomorrow night, Damian was sure he’d need to store up all his energy. Parties weren’t really his thing, but getting an invite was akin to being accepted by people who mattered. And while everyone would be in masquerade dress, he’d been told a lot of business was conducted if you knew the right people and asked the right questions.

It all sounded a little secret society to him.

He grunted. “Don’t ask.”

“That good, huh?”

Damian tossed back his drink, trying to drown the sick feeling in his stomach. Tonight’s meeting was supposed to have been the start of a new era for his management consulting business. Another rung climbed toward the shining carrot dangling a hairbreadth out of reach. Validation. Retribution.

Instead he’d gotten a big fat face-to-face rejection. In under five minutes, which was salt in the wound. Not that Damian had ever been frightened of the word no. People had knocked him back left, right and centre when he’d first struck out on his own. But this client was different.

This client was personal.

“He said he didn’t want to have his family-friendly image associated with someone like me. Like I’m a fucking social pariah. It was one reality show, for Chrissakes.”

He regretted going on Australia’s Most Eligible more than any other cock-up he’d ever made in his career. He hadn’t been looking for love, like the show proclaimed—none of the contestants were. They wanted publicity. Name recognition. At the time, his PR person had assured him it would bring his fledgling Melbourne-based business to a national level...and it had. Damian had come across well on-screen, and his business had seen a hearty boost in attention after the show aired.

But mostly it was small stuff. And Damian wasn’t happy with bread crumbs—he wanted the whole damn loaf.

Only hard work had allowed him to take his business to the next level. He’d put in long hours and hustled to get clients. Now he was operating at a level most people could only aspire to, but his reality TV show days still hung around like a bad smell.

“And the damn thing is scripted. They turn you into a character—everyone knows that.” Damian shook his head. “But he said people who used ‘cheap tricks’ to get ahead were not the kind of people he wants to do business with. Oh, and apparently those kinds of shows are the reason our society is falling to pieces. Because nobody has ‘good, old-fashioned values’ anymore.”

“He sounds like a dick. Anyway, you always land on your feet,” Aaron replied with a shrug. “You’ll get another client.”

“Of course I will. But I want this one.” He turned the empty whisky glass over in his hands. “I just need to figure out how to look more family friendly.”

“You?” Aaron laughed. “No offence, mate, but you’re not exactly the family-friendly type.”

Irritation prickled under Damian’s skin. He knew that. Getting divorced six months before he turned thirty had put a sour taste in his mouth when it came to families. And relationships. Which meant he dated with an immovable expiry. It worked for him, kept things mess-free, but after his TV stint, more people took notice of his dating habits. Potential clients included.

“What company is it?” Aaron asked.

“McPartlin & Co.”

The company had started out with a single restaurant and now owned seven fine dining establishments across the country, plus another recently launched in New Zealand. The owner had also signed a lucrative deal with Coles supermarkets. They even had plans for expansion into Singapore, Hong Kong and Dubai, all within the next five years.

But the owner of the company was notoriously uptight and traditional. Hell, he’d fired one of the best chefs in the world for swearing in the kitchen, because “foul language” shouldn’t be tolerated. Given it wasn’t unusual for chefs to have a colourful vernacular, the news had made headlines.

“Jerry McPartlin’s company.” Realisation seeped into Aaron’s features. “Your old boss’s client?”

“That would be the one.”

“Okay, buddy. You need to take a breath and think about this.” Aaron put his drink down and planted a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I know you’re pissed about what happened, but—”

“He was screwing my wife, Aaron.”

That was what this was about. Revenge. The McPartlin & Co. deal had launched Ben’s boutique consulting firm into the big leagues. They were his flagship client.

And Damian was going to do everything in his power to take the business from him, the way Ben had taken something precious from Damian.

The memory made red flash before his eyes like a matador’s cape. “Then he had the audacity to tell me I’d never make it. That I’d never even come close to playing at his level.”

“He’s a prick, that’s a fact well established.” Aaron shook his head. “But you need to let it go. It was four years ago. It’s not healthy to hang on to this shit for so long.”

“Are you done, Oprah?”

“Sticks and stones, mate. I’m only saying this because you’re like a brother to me.” He sighed. “Have a few drinks, find a woman and forget about Ben. Forget about Jenny while you’re at it. They’re not worth the energy.”

Aaron was the only person outside his family who knew what’d happened with his divorce and his abrupt departure from Ben’s firm. Trust wasn’t something Damian had in large supply, especially these days, but he’d put his life in Aaron’s hands if the situation called for it.

However, the guy had married his teenage sweetheart and lived a life of sunshine and roses. He didn’t understand Damian’s need to settle the score.

“Having a few drinks and finding a woman is exactly why McPartlin & Co. thinks I’m wrong for them. I need a change of image.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Maybe I should get engaged. That’ll make me look like family material.” Damian drummed his fingers on the bar, his mind whirring. Searching for a solution. “I could be the guy who finally settled down for the right woman.”

Aaron looked at him like he was crazy. “And who would you get engaged to?”

“Someone I don’t care about.” In other words, someone who wouldn’t be able to screw him over.

* * *

“I’d always assumed if I was going to be in a barn naked, there’d at least be a sexy cowboy involved.” Lainey shimmied on the spot, pulling the dress over her hips. It was a touch too tight, but it was a loaner, so she’d have to make do.

“Are you saying I’m not good enough for a roll in the hay?” Imogen grinned. “Now, quit complaining and zip me up.”

Both dresses had come from a friend of Imogen’s who owned a boutique in Malvern. The sizing options for borrowed dresses had been limited. But since Lainey couldn’t afford to shell out a few thousand dollars for a fancy dress, she had to suck in her stomach and avoid eating. One, because the boning in the bodice wouldn’t allow for any expansion, and two, because the dresses could not get dirty under any circumstances.

And yet they were changing in a stable. Go figure.

Lainey reached for the zip at Imogen’s back and tugged. It stuck at the halfway point for a moment, then slid up. It was a snug fit, but it would do.

“How do I look?” she asked.

Imogen’s dress was all black lace and vampy satin—a far cry from her usually sedate approach to fashion. Her jewelled mask hid most of her face, and with a plummy stain coating her usually bare lips, Imogen was transformed.

“Incredible.”

“And you...” Imogen squealed. “That hair makes you look like a totally new person.”

Lainey had spent years trying to get her naturally dark blond hair to the perfect shade of Gwen Stefani platinum. But earlier that week she’d thrown years of careful bleaching and maintenance down the drain to turn herself into a fiery redhead.

The shade was a vibrant ruby colour that made her fair skin seem even more porcelain. It also warmed up her hazel eyes and gave her total Little Mermaid vibes. So much that she was starting to wonder why she’d never been a redhead before.

Imogen reached up to adjust the glittering fabric on Lainey’s dress. “You’re going to cause trouble for every man in that ballroom.”

The skimpy straps and plunging neckline left no room for a bra. And there was a slit up the side of the twinkling silver skirt, which made her feel all kinds of exposed. But that was exactly why she’d picked it. If she was going to do something stupid and reckless, then she was damn well going to look hot while she did it.

“One wrong move and I’m going to flash my boobs,” she said with a rueful grin. “Chances are Damian will totally ignore me and I’ll end up scandalising Melbourne’s society crowd.”

“At least you’re here for a positive reason,” Imogen said. She sounded stressed, though it was hard to tell with the mask covering her face.

“Everything will work out okay. You’ve thought this plan through. You’re looking after your sister,” Lainey said. “But you’re not doing anything wrong.”

Imogen nodded. “Exactly. I just want to get evidence that he’s cheating.”

“Wouldn’t you’d rather find out he’s not cheating?” Lainey raised a brow.

Imogen pressed her lips into a flat line. “Don’t judge my plans and I won’t judge yours, okay?”

“Fair enough.” Lainey held her hands up. “I solemnly swear not to mention it again.”

“Good.” Imogen nodded and scooped up the uniforms they’d worn to sneak into the venue with the owner of the catering company. “We can leave these here and Marie will pick them up later.”

Lainey nodded. “What’s she getting out of this, by the way?”

“I’m putting her on the preferred suppliers list at work,” Imogen said. “We use caterers all the time, so it would be a big chunk of business for her. We’re supposed to put all new suppliers through a panel vetting process, but I just told my boss we should use her and he said okay.”

“Privilege of being the CEO’s right-hand lady?”

“Exactly, and I know she’s amazing at her job so I don’t feel too bad about doing it. You know I don’t normally bend the rules, but I figure she’s going out on a limb for me...” Guilt flickered across Imogen’s expression, but she quickly refocused. “Anyway, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Knock ’em dead.” Lainey gave Imogen’s hands a squeeze and then hung back while her friend headed along the building toward the side entrance.

Imogen paused at the corner, where a path curved through the garden, and peeked around. She held up her hem, a handful of black lace and satin exposing some strappy silver sandals with a sensible midheight heel. Lainey smiled. So there was a hint of the real Imogen under her costume.

A second later, Imogen flashed Lainey a thumbs-up. And then she was gone. The plan was for Lainey to count to thirty and then make her way down the same path.

Digging into her clutch, she pulled out a round compact mirror. Unlike the sleek dress, fancy shoes and glamorous mask, the compact was rough around the edges. Well loved. The gold clasp was tarnished and the embroidered rose on the lid had seen better days. But tonight it was her talisman. The compact had belonged to Lainey’s grandmother, a woman who’d done fearless things in the name of love. Like giving up marriage to a wealthy aristocrat and forgoing a life of privilege, causing her family to cut her off and cast her out. She’d given it all up for him—her comfort, her security, her family.

She would understand why Lainey was doing something outrageous to have one night with the guy of her dreams.

“One cat dog, two cat dog, three cat dog,” Lainey murmured, forcing herself not to speed through her count using the technique her mother had taught her when she was little. “Four cat dog, five cat dog...”

Around twenty cat dogs, she couldn’t take it anymore. Touching her fingertips to the black lace mask, she stifled a nervous giggle. Glimmering beads brushed her cheeks every time she moved her head. Combined with the scandalous dress, it made her feel fiercely powerful. Sexy in a way she hadn’t ever experienced.

Lainey’s high heels made clicking sounds against the stone path. As she turned the corner, a courtyard opened in front of her. The area was large, surrounded by standard white roses and gardenia trees. The scent was intoxicating. Two large glass doors opened to the ballroom, and music spilled out into the air. Lainey’s stomach fluttered.

A waiter holding a tray of wineglasses passed by, and she flagged him down. She’d seen him earlier when they’d entered with the catering assistants. But his eyes swept over her without a hint of recognition.

Phew.

Lainey headed toward the open doors. She wanted to get the lay of the land—see how many people were inside and figure out whether it would be hard to find Damian. The Carmina Ball was in full swing.

Sucking in a breath so big it caused the boning in her dress to dig into her ribs, Lainey stepped into the ballroom. It was like something out of a movie—mysterious masked men in tuxedos, women in incredible gowns, the glittering chandeliers that looked as though they belonged in the castle from Beauty and the Beast. It was all her fairy-tale romance-movie dreams come to life.

Was it even real?

She brought her wineglass to her lips, revelling in the flutter of her heart against her rib cage. Yes, it was real. And tonight, she was going to bring her longest-held fantasy to life.