Masked Definitions

by A. E. Murphy

  “And?” Max prompts, standing to greet his brother with a firm handshake.

  “Definitely related.” He hands the paper to Max and my eyes fly accusingly to my husband. He didn’t mention a paternity test.

  Penelope places her hand on my arm as the men laugh and talk about the results. It’s nice that it’s been proven. I notice how her eyes have yet to even drift to her husband. Maybe they are separated. “So, my husband tells me that you work in a warehouse?”

  I wait for the disgust to appear in her eyes when I nod my reply. It doesn’t; she only seems curious.

  “What do you do?”

  “I package things into boxes ready for delivery.” I bite my lip and glance at the men again. Elijah seems to have finally noticed me and both of them turn our way. His eyes drift up and down my body, too quick for anyone to notice unless they’re staring at him like I am. I pull my eyes away. He’s disinterested in me; I knew this dress would do just that.

  “I apologise for not greeting you; I couldn’t contain my excitement.” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips as his icy grey eyes steel me with a polite look. My mouth goes dry. “I trust you’re well?”

  “Great.” I reach for my wine and take a sip, my cheek twitching. I’m so nervous, yet he keeps staring at me.

  “I’m sure I know you from somewhere,” he says, leaning into my line of sight. I stare at his collar. Why is he wearing a suit? “Whenever I see you I get this strange sense of deja-vu.”

  I shrug and pinch my lips together. “I don’t, I’m sorry.”

  Fuck. Can he hear my heart beating? Can he see my pulse fluttering?

  Does he know?

  Is he toying with me?

  “Maybe you just look like somebody I know,” he says, his tone laced with wonder.

  “Stop, she’s shy. You’re making her uncomfortable,” Penelope snaps and he looks away at last. I release the breath I was holding. She links her arm with mine. “Come, let’s go for a tour.”

  “She’s already been on a tour,” Elijah snaps, frowning at Penelope who waves him off.

  “Then I’ll take her on another.”

  I’m relieved to be away from the room but unhappy that I’m now in the presence of the woman whose marriage I’m going to ruin or damage irreparably.

  She leads me to the kitchen and asks Mildred to start the first course before leading me into the dining room.

  “I love this table,” she murmurs so quietly I hardly hear her. Her perfectly manicured nails, with sparkling silver gems on the tips, tap lightly against the shiny dark wood.

  Is this why she brought me in here? To discuss the table?

  “You’re very quiet.” Her blue eyes come to mine. They aren’t as warm as they were before. “Quiet people concern me.” Here we go. I have a feeling I’m about to meet the Penelope that I expected. “They see too much and say too little.” Her face remains impassive as she strokes the table and pulls out a chair. She motions for me to sit. I do so, eyeing her blankly, unwilling to bite to her… whatever the fuck this is that she’s doing. “My husband is an important man. He’s respected by many. His companies are thriving and his reputation is… perfect.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  She stares at me for a few beats as if trying to figure me out. I don’t remove my eyes from hers as we stare each other down. “He might not be a celebrity or in receipt of that status, but he is in the public eye and his movements are important.”

  “Sure.”

  “That is why we cannot abide by any… secrets.” Her look becomes dark but I stay calm, despite my urge to panic. Enna comes to the surface, confident and well-practised at lying. “If there is anything that you feel I should know, do tell me now. I will receive it without judgement and ensure that it stays buried.”

  Again we stare at each other. I’m simply waiting for her to get to the point.

  “My husband’s competitors will drag up anything. Anything.”

  “I understand,” I state, knowing that my job could be an issue, but there are plenty of women working at the club who hold a similar status to Penelope and none of them have been discovered. I’ll need to speak to Rick and the other women.

  Or maybe I should just quit?

  “The only thing I can think of is about Max and that’s up to him to tell you,” I say softly and give her a reassuring smile. “Other than that I’ve led a pretty boring life. I have two brothers who I rarely see and my mum lives in Old Malton with her boyfriend. I see her every couple of months through no fault of her own.”

  Her steely gaze softens and her shoulders sag. “I apologise for being so intense.”

  “No worries, I understand.” I smile kindly, shifting back to Olivia when the door opens and Mildred walks in with the first round of food.

  “You’re very naturally beautiful,” Penelope tells me as we take our seats and the men walk in. “If I had your bone structure and flawless skin, I’d never wear makeup either.”

  I grin, grateful for the compliment. “I’m sure you could pull it off too.”

  “I have skin like a leather handbag.” She laughs, taking the seat beside her husband who sits at the end. Max sits to his right, in between us both.

  “What have you ladies been yapping about?” Elijah asks, his eyes on his food. I spear a stuffed mushroom with my fork and carefully cut it with my knife. These knives and forks are so heavy, the handles thick and engraved with symmetrical patterns.

  “Makeup and the likes.” Penelope winks at me, reminding me of the exchange we just had. I dread to think of just how serious she could be if she ever finds out about her husband’s late night visits to see a stripper. I’d say it’s not really cheating as he hasn’t had sex, but he let me touch him, he paid me to please him. It’s cheating. “You?”

  “Same, same,” Max jokes, making them laugh. “So, I hear you’re travelling to Scotland, Penelope?”

  “Ah, yes, I have a meeting with a fresh, new designer. I own my own clothing boutique in London.”

  “Sounds great, maybe you can give my wife some fashion tips,” Max suggests and gives me a sideways glance. “Baggy jumpers and jeans are her clothing items of choice.”

  What a fucking arsehole, I think but keep my face passive. I’d have thrown my plate at him but I don’t want to cause a scene.

  I like my clothes. I look good. Sure I don’t look designer, but I don’t look like a tramp either.

  Unfortunately for Max, nobody laughs apart from him so we fall into an awkward silence. He recovers quickly by nudging me and saying, “She knows I’m kidding. I love everything about her.”

  “Tell me more about how you met.” Penelope saves the day.

  “I had the biggest crush on her in school.” Max grins and swallows the food in his mouth before continuing. “I stalked her until she agreed to go out with me.”

  Their eyes come to me. They obviously want me to continue. “He isn’t joking either. He followed me home from school every single day for about three months before I agreed to go out with him.” I place my fork onto my empty plate and sip my wine.

  “That’s disturbingly sweet. How old were you both?”

  “Fourteen,” Max finishes. “Olivia is actually older than me by five months.”

  “You cougar,” Penelope jests, making me smile.

  Elijah’s eyes go to my mouth when I lick my lips and sip more wine. I wonder why but don’t get the chance to dwell on it as Mildred diverts our attention by clearing the table.

  “And you’ve been together ever since?” Elijah asks curiously, leaning to the side so Mildred can take his plate. She hobbles from the room, her tray rattling. The urge to help her is strong.

  “Pretty much,” I say as Max says, “I wouldn’t let her leave me even if she wanted to. She’s a good woman. I don’t deserve her.”

  I just melted a little, my anger at him for his earlier statement slowly dissipating. I lean on him for a moment.

  Elijah and Penelope watch our exch
ange almost wistfully.

  “What about you two?” Max asks. “How did you both come to be?”

  “Arranged,” Penelope states. “So not as romantic as your story.”

  It has suddenly become awkward again.

  “We’re a good match,” Elijah tells his wife and they both look blankly at each other. There is no chemistry there at all.

  No wonder she travels a lot.

  “Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay? It seems like such a bother to have you leave so late.” Penelope tells us as we leave but, fortunately, Max accepts my look and makes excuses for us both.

  It was a great evening overall. Penelope mostly kept me away from the men and I was grateful for that, but I came to the conclusion that using her as a barricade between her husband and I is fucked up. I’m basically using the wife of the man I’m cheating with to stop him from recognising me so I can continue cheating with him.

  It doesn’t get much worse than that.

  I found it so hard to sleep last night, I don’t know how I’m going to work tonight.

  Penelope: Thank you for a wonderful evening. I would like to meet again when I return from Scotland.

  Holy fuck. Speak of the devil of my nightmares.

  Olivia: I would love to.

  What is wrong with me?

  Penelope: Excellent, I’ll be in touch.

  Part of me hopes she won’t be.

  “So tired.” I yawn loudly and roll into the mattress. I can hear Max pottering around in the kitchen area and it’s keeping me awake.

  “Sorry, babe. I’ve been called into work.” I feel the bed dip when he leans onto it and presses a soft kiss to my temple. He nuzzles my neck and curls a hand around my hip. “We haven’t had sex in forever.”

  “Mmm,” I agree as his teeth nip at my neck. “Tired.”

  Sighing, he releases me and steps away. I keep my eyes closed so he can’t see the guilt and shame there.

  And the longing you feel for his brother, Enna whispers through my mind. I mentally punch myself in the face and as soon as the door closes, I climb out of bed, grab a box of cinnamon squares cereal from the cupboard and collapse onto the couch. My phone goes off three times as I crunch away, dipping my hand into the box every so often simply to fill my mouth again. Until it’s time for work, I ignore everything.

  “I want you to be my mistress,” my Lord Duke says as I wipe his seed from my back. “I want to own you. All of you.”

  “And then you’ll fuck me and tire of me and I’ll be without a job.”

  “I’ll house you; I’ll clothe you, feed you. You’ll have everything you could ever desire.” He whispers and I feel his breath against my ear. It makes me shiver with need. I’m so frustrated, part of me wants to say yes. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

  “That’s not possible.” I move away from him and pick up the money that has scattered all over the floor.

  “Why? It’s the perfect solution. Name a price.” He steps in front of me again and grabs my wrists in tight hands. I gasp at the buzz it sends through my arms. I feel it deep in my groin. I’m losing my mind.

  The red light above the door shines brightly and he releases me immediately. That’s Shade, giving the Duke his first warning.

  “Please.” He runs his hands through his hair, clearly frustrated that he can’t touch me. “Why is it an issue? Do you have children? Are you a carer? What?”

  I don’t respond.

  “You’re married?”

  “As are you, my Lord Duke.” I say softly and place the money on the bench after folding it tightly.

  “Not really,” he tells me, stepping in front of me again, so close I can feel his body heat. It’s enough to make my head spin. “My marriage is complicated.”

  I think back to the dinner last night. They said their marriage was arranged. Maybe they truly don’t love each other.

  “Let’s not sour our little get togethers with talk of spouses.” I run my finger down his neck. “Don’t you think it’s more fun this way?”

  “I have blue balls.”

  “I’ve made you come every time.”

  “And it only makes me want you more.” He raises a hand and I jump back when he reaches for my mask.

  The door opens and one of the security staff steps into the room. He’s not the tallest guy in the world but his muscles say that he could very well be the strongest. His eyes sweep me up and down. I see them linger and narrow at my nudity. He likes what he sees, I can tell.

  The Duke steps back and holds his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t going to take it off.”

  “Final warning,” the security guy says roughly after I give him a nod. He steps back out of the room but leaves the door open.

  “I’m sorry,” Elijah murmurs and shakes his head. “I thought you felt the same way I did but I guess you’re trained to tell me what I want to hear, right?” His smile shines in the dark blue light. “You’re good at this. I fell for it.”

  “If that’s what you believe,” I tell him and pick my gown up from the ground.

  “Should I believe differently? Be honest with me.” There’s a vulnerability to his eyes that surprises me. “Am I just a wallet to you?”

  His icy grey eyes suddenly soften and round as though his entire being relies on my answer.

  “My Lord Duke.” I push the door closed and step towards him. “You pay for me, so you get me. This is my job.” He nods and turns to leave, though I’m not finished so I grip his chin with my hand. “You’re the one who thinks you’re a wallet. I don’t think that. You’re worth more than your money.”

  “Are you saying that because I’m paying you?”

  “I’m saying that because I’ve never wanted to fuck somebody more than I want to fuck you.” I lick my lips and move to the door, wishing he’d just leave.

  He picks up his tie from the ground and pulls gently on a lock of my hair that hangs loosely over my shoulder. “I’ll be back Thursday. Please reconsider my offer.”

  “I won’t.” I place my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes connect with mine for an everlasting second. I hold his gaze as something odd transpires between us, something I don’t understand. It’s silent communication, a silent conversation in which he tells me he won’t give up. I have no doubt that he will not give up.

  This is a man who always gets what he wants and, for some unfortunate reason, this week it’s me that he wants.

  And then he’s gone.

  But sure enough, he comes back on Thursday. And the Friday. And then again on the Monday.

  This entire time I’ve also been avoiding my husband and spiralling deeper into my guilt. I can’t do this anymore. Genuinely. The thrill just isn’t worth it anymore. I’m frustrated sexually. I’m frustrated emotionally. I’m exhausted.

  What a web I’ve woven.

  “I brought you back a gift,” Penelope states, grinning from ear to ear as she hands me a silver, sparkly gift bag.

  I hate myself.

  I pull open the bag and carefully take the shoe-box out before placing it on my knees. Removing the lid, a gasp escapes me. Inside sit the sexiest black, pointed toe shoes with a five-inch diamante stiletto heel that I have ever seen.

  “I saw you eyeing mine the first time we met. I know they aren’t exactly the same, but… Oh shit, what’s wrong? You hate them?”

  I wipe away the tears that I didn’t realise had fallen and bring the box closer to me. “I love them.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  Because I’m a slutty, bitch whore and I want to fuck your husband so badly it physically hurts to be around him.

  “I’ve just never seen such pretty shoes.” It’s the truth too. I don’t think I have. “I love them, thank you.”

  “No problem, they’re your size, right?”

  I nod. “I’m a five, these are a five. I’d still wear them if they were two sizes too small.”

  “I’m so happy.”

&nb
sp; Mildred fetches us wine and I want to down it. I contemplate it but I’m in the company of a classy woman and something tells me she’d frown upon my behaviour.

  “So, when do I get an invitation to your home?” That is one thing I love and hate about Penelope. She speaks what’s on her mind. I’m more calculating; I keep things in until the timing is right. Not that her asking me for an invitation is wrong.

  “I’d be embarrassed to show you my home after seeing this beautiful place.” I feel my cheeks heat and look away. “My entire flat fits in this room.”

  “That’s tragic. I couldn’t imagine living in such confines. No offense.” She winces and brings her glass to her lips.

  “None taken.” I lie. My life isn’t tragic in the least, but I suppose she didn’t mean it like that. “It can be cosy though. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself in all of this space. I’d eventually find a corner and snuggle into it with a blanket and a book.”

  Her laughter is a soft lilt and it sounds rehearsed, like she’s practised and perfected her laugh throughout her life. I wonder what her real laugh sounds like.

  Max and I were speaking the other night about Penelope and Elijah and their roles in the world. We’ve only ever seen them in their home and haven’t had to experience their actual lives. There’s only so much that the internet can tell us.

  I know that Elijah works hard and the past few weeks he’s spent every free moment he can with Max, which is amazing but it’s also concerning. Max is getting attached, not only to this lavish lifestyle but to the brother he never had until now. Elijah is the kind of man who can just cut people off, I can tell, but Max isn’t. He can’t handle rejection or abandonment of any kind.

  The door opens and Max and Elijah walk in. They look happy. Extremely happy.

  Penelope straightens and greets her husband with a nod. Max hooks his arm around my neck and slams his lips onto mine, still smiling. I push him away to stop the public display.