The Secret Lives of Emma: Unmasked

by Walker, Natasha

  About the Book

  Emma Benson was unlikely ever to be your average housewife.

  But she never meant any of this to happen …

  For temptation is all around her, and now her life has hit a crossroads.

  Can she possibly stay married to David, a man who will never understand her boundless erotic desires?

  And would he ever forgive her if she told him the truth?

  With her marriage teetering on the brink of ruin, she has two options – fight or flight.

  Choosing the latter, at least for the time being, she trades Sydney for the burning heat of the Italian coast.

  But then a handsome, exotic stranger enters the scene, and Emma must make her decision. Fast.

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AD FOR THE SECRET LIVES OF EMMA: BEGINNINGS

  AD FOR THE SECRET LIVES OF EMMA: DISTRACTIONS

  AD FOR BREAKING THE RULES

  AD FOR BLOOM

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  LOVED THE BOOK?

  Dedicated to the libertines

  ONE

  From the kitchen at the back of the house where she was preparing for a dinner party, Emma Benson heard people talking and laughing. She wiped her eyes and walked to the hallway and saw shadows in the glass panels on the closed front door. She could hear her husband David’s deep voice. Her first thought was to slip out the back door quickly – she even returned to the kitchen with escape in mind – but pulled herself together with an ‘It will be okay’, while all the while knowing it wouldn’t be. Spying her glass of wine she took it up in her hand.

  David’s keys rattled against the lock and she braced herself.

  ‘Emma?’ he called from the door.

  ‘I’m in here.’

  ‘Do we have enough food for one more?’

  She couldn’t answer him. She knew who that extra person was. He’d been sitting in his car out front of the house for the last hour waiting for his chance to ruin her life.

  There was more noise as David ushered their dinner guests into the lounge room. More laughter. The word ‘champagne’ came to her clearly above the indistinct chatter. She could make out her best friend Sally’s voice and then the lower tones of Sally’s husband, Mark. Emma drank from the glass and then resumed cutting onions, facing away from the hall. Her eyes were stinging and tearful. The champagne was in the fridge beside her. He would come for it soon. She had a minute, maybe less. She knew a crisis was imminent and yet she kept preparing dinner as though it would be served and eaten.

  She poured more wine into her glass. That afternoon she had been told that her husband was having an affair with her best friend, the woman who was now in her front room. She had already decided to do and say nothing. Not that night. She needed time to think. But there was a chance she wouldn’t get time to think.

  And she couldn’t stop crying. She wiped her eyes with kitchen towel.

  Her lover, Paul, had told her about her husband’s affair and threatened to crash the dinner party after Emma said she wouldn’t leave David. She felt David’s heavy tread as he made his way down the hallway. She noticed there were two sets of footsteps and waited for her husband and her lover, her back turned, tears streaming down her face, knife slowly dicing an onion.

  That morning she had woken blissfully ignorant of the truth. Her relationship had shown no signs of trouble. Things with David had been better than ever. They were planning to have a baby.

  What did David and Sally’s affair have to do with her? Hadn’t Paul said of their own cheating, ‘The fact is, our relationship has little impact on anyone else’s life. Does David accuse you of not paying him enough attention? Does he feel unloved? No, he doesn’t. He has no right to disturb us.’

  But now Paul was asking Emma to react in exactly the way he had insisted David had no right to. He wanted Emma to end her marriage. Emma wasn’t ready to leave the life she had made with David. Yet with Paul determined to expose them all, she felt she would have little choice.

  David reached the kitchen. Emma’s heart was pounding.

  ‘Look who I found out on the street.’

  She turned around.

  Emma was so sure Paul would be standing beside David that for the briefest of moments that was who she saw. But it wasn’t Paul, it was a man she couldn’t place at first. She wiped away her tears the best she could and forced a smile.

  ‘What’s wrong, Em?’ asked David, stepping towards her. She raised her hand to stop him.

  ‘I’m fine. It’s the onions,’ she said, wiping her eyes again. She found she could not look at him.

  David stopped then and turned to his guest. ‘You remember Seb, don’t you?’

  Emma didn’t recognise the name and looked at the man blankly for a split second.

  ‘Sebastian Jones,’ said the friend. ‘We met briefly last year. It wasn’t long after you two started dating. You were probably meeting a lot of David’s stuffy friends back then.’

  He had a slight English accent.

  ‘You don’t look stuffy,’ she said, glancing at him quickly from head to toe. He wore thongs on his feet, a faded pair of jeans and navy blue v-neck t-shirt. His hair was unkempt and his tanned face was unshaven. The name rang a bell but not the man.

  ‘I’ve had the stuffing kicked out of me since then.’

  ‘That sounds interesting and David’s friends aren’t normally interesting.’

  ‘Well, if I had it my way, I would have preferred to have remained dull.’

  David stepped in. ‘I accosted Seb out the front. He was walking up to get some Thai. I had no idea he was back in town.’

  ‘I’ve only just arrived. I’m minding a friend’s house while I work out what I’m going to do.’

  ‘Is there enough food for one more?’ asked David.

  ‘Yes, there is. You’re most welcome. Now, get out of the kitchen or I will ask you both to help.’

  ‘Please, let me help. I love to cook.’ Seb walked towards the work bench. ‘What are we having?’

  Emma looked at the onions, at the chicken breasts still in their packages, at the oven clock which displayed five to eight, and said, ‘Takeaway.’

  TWO

  Emma sat on the armrest of one of the sofas. It was the furthest she dare remove herself. Her heart was still racing. She was unable to calm herself. She was relieved that no one seemed to notice. Mark, Sally and David surrounded the newcomer, keeping him entertained with their usual banter, and he in turn seemed to be enjoying the attention. Apparently Sebastian had just sailed a yacht from San Diego.

  While they chatted Emma kept staring at her husband, trying to detect in him any difference, anything that might match the image of the man she now knew him to be. He had not changed on coming home. He was still in his
suit pants and his shirt, sleeves rolled, top button undone, and wearing the shoes that hurt his feet when he wore them too long. Emma had dressed for the evening. She wore a black A-line cocktail dress which came to just above her knee. It was a dress David had once torn from her. She’d had it mended.

  She lifted her glass of champagne to her lips, watching his every move. He sat by Sally as naturally as he might have sat by any of his friends’ wives. Emma could spot no sign of their true relationship. There were unnecessary touches and shared looks but they were of the kind she would expect a guilty couple not to make. If anything, they were more comfortable together, not less so. And given the circumstances, with both of their partners close by, this seemed unnatural. So much so that for a moment Emma was willing to doubt the truth of Paul’s claim. But only for a moment. She’d known it was true as soon as he’d said it.

  It was all so ordinary, she sighed. She kicked off her heels and rubbed her feet against the carpet. It was suburban. From this angle the affair looked as dull as one of David’s work dinner parties. He had bought Sally a flat in Kirribilli. Money removed the illicit nature of the affair. It was respectable. There wouldn’t be any stolen moments in the backs of cars, in laneways, on stairwells. There could be no excitement. They’d have appointments. They’d schedule it.

  Emma felt the dull pain in her chest that was oppressing her. She was feeling sluggish now. The adrenaline was departing. She drank down the rest of her champagne. It was French. Dry. But it wasn’t a cure for heartache. She placed the glass on the coffee table and David noticed. Ever the host, he stood, lifted the bottle out of the silver ice bucket and refilled it.

  ‘You’d like a day on the harbour, wouldn’t you, Em?’ he said as he sat back down.

  ‘What?’

  All eyes were on her.

  ‘Sebastian is going to take us all out on his yacht,’ said Sally.

  Emma smiled and nodded. She just had to get through the evening. She needed to talk to David alone. Not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the following day, either. But they had to talk and she had to decide who she was going to be.

  Suddenly Paul entered the room and Emma stood up abruptly. David must have left the front gate open. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him on the steps. She shot him a warning look, which stopped him dead. It was obvious to her that he was determined to have it all out, then and there. Emma was not going to let that happen.

  ‘Sorry to barge in, I didn’t expect a party!’ he said, smiling and nodding.

  ‘Come off it, Paul, you’re always welcome,’ said David. ‘You know Mark and Sally?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, stepping in to shake Mark’s hand and to kiss Sally. Sally turned so he might air-kiss her cheek but he ignored this and planted a very real kiss on her lips, holding it for a second too long. Her surprised expression made him smile.

  ‘Don’t you look gorgeous,’ he said, as he moved away. She was wearing a tight-fitting glimmering gold cocktail dress. When Emma had invited her she had told her to glam it up. But that was before she knew what was going on.

  ‘And you remember Seb, right?’ asked David.

  ‘Sebastian, it’s been a long time. Out here on business? How’s Marion?’

  Sebastian smiled, shook Paul’s hand but didn’t answer the question. David stepped in and handed a Paul a glass of champagne.

  ‘No, I can’t stay; I just popped in for a minute.’ But he took the glass anyway.

  As the group strived to make Paul welcome, Emma kept up her role, her heart in her mouth. She could see Paul was only temporarily stalled by her warning look and the unexpected presence of Sebastian. He was waiting for an opportunity to make his declaration. Those who have nothing to lose are always for revolution when it comes.

  Emma walked to his side and took his hand. She was feeling faint and her hands were trembling.

  ‘I need to have a word with Paul in private,’ she said. ‘It has nothing to do with your birthday present, David, so don’t even go there.’

  David smiled.

  Emma led Paul across the hall and into David’s study. She closed the door behind her and leant against it to ensure she would remain upright.

  ‘Don’t do this, Paul.’

  ‘It’s already done,’ he said, resting his bottom against the edge of the vast oak desk. ‘I can’t undo what I said to you. I know you; you won’t be able to live with David like this. It’s done. All I will be doing is saving everybody the pain and embarrassment of a slow death.’

  ‘Shouldn’t that be up to us to decide?’

  ‘You’re not thinking straight. One day you’ll thank me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’

  Paul folded his arms and then raised his hand to his chin and shook his head, smiling. His eyes roamed over her. She was standing on the tips of her toes for some reason as she leant against the door.

  ‘This is off topic but you look fucking delicious, Emma. I don’t know what it is about elegant dresses and bare feet. It does something to me.’

  Emma dropped her head. ‘Paul, when you leave tonight I don’t want to see you again.’

  ‘Ever?’

  She glared at him. ‘Not for a very long time.’

  ‘Well, that’s bullshit.’

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘You’re not going to stay with him. He’s fucking Sally. I can already see in your eyes that something has changed. You know it’s over.’

  ‘What right do I have to deny David the same freedoms I’ve enjoyed with you?’

  ‘You can’t possibly think David is choosing freely? He’s a fucking coward! He’s frightened of you. He’ll get her pregnant and then that will be that. He’ll leave you for her because she’ll make his life easier.’

  ‘I don’t want to listen to this. I’m going to have his baby!’

  ‘You think I give a shit? You need to listen. For fuck’s sake, you taught me how to live. I follow your example. I shouldn’t be explaining any of this to you.’

  Emma closed her eyes and shook her head.

  Paul came to her. His tone was tender. ‘Would you really give up who you are for him?’

  After a long time Emma opened her eyes. ‘Yes. If he had loved me and only me I would have given up everything. You, me, everything.’

  ‘But he has fucked up. There’s no going back.’

  ‘I don’t believe that, yet.’

  ‘That’s why I need to go in there for you. You’ll see. They’re not worthy of you. I’m not worthy. I never have been. I can’t bear to see you like this, Em.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t go in.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Promise me, Paul. Let me work this out. I will end it. I will.’

  ‘I can’t let you. I don’t think you can.’

  ‘Trust me.’

  Paul grabbed her.

  ‘No, Paul.’

  But he held on tightly. She couldn’t wriggle free.

  ‘I can’t trust you,’ he said, and turned her around, pressing her face-first against the door. His full weight was on her.

  ‘I don’t want this, Paul.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘I’ll call out.’

  ‘Do it, what does it matter now?’

  He was breathing heavily, letting the moment last, stretching time.

  Then slowly, still holding her fast against the door, he ran his fingers up her leg, lifting the hem of her dress as he went. He brought his hand around and slid up her inner thigh. Cotton briefs were pulled slowly aside. He lingered there. She was very still. Then he touched her. She was wet. He took his hand away and moved from her. He sat down on the leather chair behind David’s desk.

  Emma turned, breathing deeply. She hadn’t expected him to stop.

  ‘They’ll be wondering where we are,’ said Paul.

  ‘Does that matter now?’ asked Emma, staring at him.

  ‘I’ll give you a week. That’s it. If you haven’t done s
omething – whatever it is you think you’re going to do – by then, I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘What makes you think I’ll let you?’

  ‘I don’t really expect I’ll need to do anything.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve just discovered you’re not dead yet.’

  Paul didn’t stay long after they re-joined the others. He made some excuse and was gone. He left Emma rattled though. He really knew how to unmask her. He knew how to accost her, too. Leaving her wanting was the work of a genius. Emma looked at the occupants of the room from a new perspective now. They were still suburban but they were no longer to be tolerated. Revolution didn’t seem a bad idea now. But for the sake of her guests she’d postpone it to the morning.

  She noticed that David and Sebastian were drinking scotch, which David rarely drank. She assumed Sebastian had asked for one and David had joined him. Sebastian’s champagne stood half full on the side table beside him.

  ‘Has anyone called for takeaway?’ asked Emma as nonchalantly as she could.

  ‘Yes, me,’ said Sally, smiling. ‘We chose Thai.’

  THREE

  Emma was in the kitchen, putting plates in the dishwasher. Sally and Mark had gone and David and Sebastian were drinking and smoking on the front verandah. She had made it through the evening without lopping off any heads. All she had to worry about now was David. They would have to get into bed together. She didn’t know if she could do it. He was drunk, he would want to fuck her. All night she had avoided his touch, moving away as soon as he had come near her. She knew she was being unreasonable but she could do nothing about it. She wondered if she could ever let him touch her again. The thought of it made her shiver. She hated herself for feeling this way. It was hypocritical. It went against her beliefs. But this didn’t stop her from feeling repulsed by him.

  ‘Fuck!’

  Emma was so preoccupied with her thoughts she smashed a champagne glass while placing it in the dishwasher. As she bent over to pick out the shards of glass she heard footsteps.