Masked Definitions

by A. E. Murphy

  I nod.

  “Well I shan’t keep you.” He smiles once more and steps to the side to allow me passage. “Enjoy your evening, Mrs Corbin.”

  “You too, Mr Lockhart.”

  Then he’s gone and I’m practically running to the main room in heels. It’s not a good idea but I’ve already wasted too much time. Max will be having a fit.

  I slip quietly back into the room, glad that I didn’t burst in as there seems to be some kind of auction happening. At the moment the lot being bid on is a stunning pearlescent vase. I don’t spend much time admiring it though as Max and Penelope are both waving me over from a table in the centre of the room. Elijah is sat looking through a folder before him. He doesn’t look up and I don’t remove my eyes from my husband, who doesn’t look impressed with me in the slightest.

  “Where have you been?” Max hisses as the auctioneer calls fifteen thousand. Holy fuck. For a vase?

  “I drank on an empty stomach; it didn’t agree with me.” I lie. Though it seems to appease Penelope, it doesn’t appease Max. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

  “Are you feeling okay now?” Penelope asks kindly.

  I nod, unable to look her in the eye. “I’ll be better after a shower.”

  Elijah’s eyes do come to me this time, heated and narrowed. I wonder if it’s at the thought of me naked and dripping wet in his shower back at his palace. The thought of being in such a state, with him behind me, running his large, lathered hands all over my body…

  There is something seriously wrong with me.

  “It’s not like I left you on purpose, Max,” I sigh after five minutes of his sulking. “Stop being such a child. You can live without me for twenty minutes.”

  He scrunches his nose up but doesn’t say anything else. Elijah rolls his eyes at the display and Penelope gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “Twenty-two thousand, going once…” My mouth drops open as the vase is sold to a lady that Penelope introduced me to earlier in the evening. That’s insane.

  Elijah places the folder down that he was flicking through. It seems to be a booklet of all of the items donated for auction.

  I slide it towards me and flick through it. There are some beautiful paintings and statues for auction and it seems this is going to be a long evening. In the end it isn’t a statue or a painting that catches my eye, it’s the strangest pendent I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s so sparkly, covered in thousands of tiny gems that take the shape of a peacock. It’s clever how the gems have been worked to make the head and body before fanning out into the tail.

  “I wonder how much that one will go for,” Max says quietly as I run my finger over the laminated image, still entranced. I’ve never wished for a fortune before in my life. I’ve always been happy with what I have, but now I want this.

  I feel like a magpie.

  If the pendent was within reach, I couldn’t trust myself not to steal it.

  Max pulls the folder out from under me and flicks through, disinterested. I feel a foot tap against mine under the table and my eyes shoot to Elijah in question.

  Before I can question him with my eyes, Penelope is raising her hand to bid on a cute designer handbag. I look to where she sits, completely relaxed, raising her hand every few moments. She doesn’t even look like she wants the bag; her face is blank and unreadable. I again envy how pretty she is.

  The foot taps against mine again.

  “What?” I mouth at him silently.

  He winks, his shoe stroking my ankle.

  Blink.

  Is he crazy?

  I look away and move my legs to the side. He smiles a secret smile that I don’t acknowledge.

  Penelope doesn’t win the bag. She apparently refuses to pay more than ten thousand for something she can buy in store for less than two thousand, be it for a good cause or not.

  Elijah doesn’t agree or disagree; he just watches the stage.

  “And now we have a stunning family heirloom, donated by the very generous Rico Longoria.” My eyes are on it in a flash. It’s smaller than I thought it would be, but even prettier than the image, resting on a dark red pillow. A camera points down at it and we see the enlarged version on the screen behind the auctioneer. “We’ll start the bidding at eighteen thousand.”

  I choke on my glass of water.

  I guess I’m definitely not bidding on that.

  “Twenty.”

  I see Elijah raise his hand. Penelope shoots him a look of shock, as do I. Well, at least if he wins it I’ll get to see it up close.

  Unfortunately, two others are racing him for it too. One of them I see is the man I bumped into outside the bathroom.

  “Twenty-eight.” Elijah raises his hand, pushing the amount up to thirty.

  “This is mental,” Max whispers and I nod my agreement.

  “Thirty-two,” the auctioneer calls, looking around the room. Finally, the others have stopped bidding. Elijah rests back in his chair knowing he has the pendent. A small smile plays at his lips. “Sold to his Grace, the Lord Duke, for thirty-two thousand pounds.”

  “Holy crap,” I whisper as he looks around and raises a glass to the previous owner of the pendant.

  Penelope quirks a brow at her husband and remarks bitterly, “Oh that’ll go so well with the bite on your neck.” I for real feel nauseous.

  Elijah glares at his wife. “You’re going to chastise me?” She folds her arms protectively over her chest but says nothing. “That’s what I thought.”

  Sure enough, there is just the edge of a bite mark rising above the collar of Elijah’s shirt. She knows he’s fucked someone.

  What if she suspects me?

  Hopefully she thinks the bite mark was already there.

  How could I have been so stupid? I didn’t even realise I’d marked him. I’m such an idiot.

  Penelope remains in a foul mood and silent for the rest of the function, not so much towards me but definitely towards Elijah. Does she still have feelings for him? He is her husband.

  I decide to stop stressing about it. I feel as though I’m being a hypocrite by feeling guilty for doing this to her when I have no intention of stopping.

  I want to. I wish I had the willpower, but I know I don’t.

  Now comes the question of whether or not Elijah meant what he said about using me as his little sex toy for the near future.

  I don’t have time to dwell on it because, like Penelope, Max is in a foul mood. He’s still sore that I left him, no doubt.

  I purse my lips and look at my companions in the limo. “We should go to a cemetery.” All eyes come to me. “Because even a hundred graves have to hold more joy than this car.”

  Penelope sighs and pulls her tube of lipstick from her purse. Elijah grins at his phone as his thumbs tap away at the screen and Max, finally cheering up, puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles into my hair and squeezes me tight. I close my eyes and sigh softly. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I’ll be fine after a shower.” My thighs press together involuntarily; I feel quite sore below. I’m not sure if I like it. Who am I kidding? I love it.

  Checking my watch, I frown when I see how late it is. It doesn’t feel like it should be past eleven, let alone almost one in the morning. I’m a night owl though, so it’s unsurprising that it doesn’t feel late.

  “Half one in the morning.” Max says, turning to kiss my temple. “It’s our last night together for a week now, no thanks to work.”

  I forgot about that. I’m supposed to go back the day after tomorrow, though he still thinks I’m working.

  There is no end to the line of lies I have strung my husband.

  “You both may as well stay over,” Elijah states with a tone that leaves no room for argument. “You move in tomorrow anyway.”

  We do? “When was this agreed?”

  “When we signed the contracts.” He finally puts his phone away and looks at Max.

>   “Awesome, guess who’s playing on the Xbox tomorrow.” Max grins but I’m quick to burst his bubble.

  “Not if we’re packing our stuff.” His grin disappears so I pat him on the hand. “You’ve got two weeks.”

  “Not if my awesome new brother wants to gift me one as a house warming thing.”

  My mouth falls open, I am mortified. “He gave us a house as a house warming thing.”

  “I was just saying.”

  “Well don’t. You don’t need an Xbox right now.” I don’t meet the eyes of Penelope or Elijah. I’m too embarrassed by the atrocious, materialistic demand from the man I agreed to spend the rest of my life with.

  “Don’t be a bitch.” He removes his arm from my shoulders as if that move would upset me.

  He can be so childish.

  I roll my eyes and look out of the window.

  We finally arrive at Elijah’s and to say we all race to get inside would be an understatement. Tonight was a disaster in the end. I hate leaving everyone in a sour mood but I wasn’t joking about having a shower. I’ve been desperate for one since we had sex four hours ago.

  I’m worried. Max likes to satisfy his sexual appetite after he’s had a drink. I’m praying that if I spend long enough in the shower, he’ll fall asleep and I won’t have to worry about him touching me.

  As predicted, when I exit the shower of our bedroom, I find Max face down on the mattress snoring into the sheet. A smile touches my lips.

  The urge to step into the hall in my towel, purely to see if Elijah is out there waiting for me, is almost too much, but I don’t, not now. I have to plan what I’m going to do next.

  I decide to ignore the looming questions about my marriage for now. I’d rather be blissfully ignorant than try to figure out the mess that is my life and the bigger mess that is my marriage.

  When the morning comes, I pull on Max’s shirt that lies crumpled on the floor. It reaches just past the curve of my arse. Max is still in bed and I can’t seem to shift him, even though he knows that we need to go and pack our things.

  “Fuck off,” he moans into the pillow when I beat him with another.

  There’ll be no shifting him so I opt to have breakfast instead.

  Yawning, I pad down the hall in my fluffy, borrowed socks, hoping that the pantry holds my favourite brand of cereal like the last time. My fingers trail along the grooves in the wall, following the pattern of the square borders as I go. I love how elegant this place is.

  After entering the kitchen, I play with the strange screen by the door, happy when I see it holds an option for music. The radio comes on through a hidden speaker. I adjust the volume so it’s a little louder and set about finding food.

  I should make a breakfast for Max as he’ll probably have a hangover and he has a busy day ahead of him, but I don’t want to intrude. I’m sure Penelope and Elijah won’t mind, but if Mildred has stocked up just the supplies she needs, I don’t want to take any and mess up her food plans for the next few days.

  Sighing, I snatch a box of cereal from the deep pantry to the left of the wide refrigerator and stuff my hand into the box. I dance as I make my way to the fridge. “Ex’s and Oh’s” plays in the background. I’m a little bit addicted to this particular track at the moment.

  “Hungry?” Elijah’s voice from the doorway startles me.

  I collect myself and turn to face him, cereal still in hand. “I wasn’t sure what I could take without messing up Mildred’s kitchen.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “That’s considerate, but unnecessary.” I feel his eyes roam down my body like invisible hands. “There’s always plenty and nothing goes to waste. If she’s missing something she requires, she simply buys more.”

  I guess that makes sense.

  “We should talk,” I say quietly when he steps into the kitchen.

  His eyes finally come to mine. “We should.”

  My mouth goes dry when his lower lids twitch and narrow. His tongue traces his bottom lip and I recall just how devilish that tongue is when tormenting a certain area of my body.

  “I…” I clear my throat. “What was I saying?”

  His smile is triumphant. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  “Right.”

  “Cute,” he mutters so quietly I only just hear him. “By all means, continue dancing. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Speaking of dancing, I go back to work tomorrow night. Suddenly this doesn’t seem very appealing. I’ve had a healthier dose of adrenaline than anticipated. This dose should last me a lifetime. I can’t help but slightly panic over how we were almost caught.

  “We’ll talk tonight.” Elijah says softly, his eyes still seeking mine even though I’m now avoiding them. I pull a carton of eggs from the fridge and settle them by the stove. My hands tug open cupboards as I seek out a pan. “When Penelope has gone and Max is working.”

  “Sure.” I bite hard on my lip when I feel him directly behind me. His hand cups my arse and his finger slides into me, just a fraction. It’s enough to make me gasp, tremble and clench.

  “Though I doubt we’ll resolve much.”

  I have no doubt that he’s correct. The thought of having him alone tonight, just the two of us, makes me instantly wet.

  “I wish I could take you now,” he groans, close to my ear, so close I feel his chest vibrate through my arm and I feel his warm breath on my ear. “You’re so ready for me.”

  “Not here…” I say firmly and step away. “Not so reckless again. I can’t risk hurting them like that.”

  Sighing, he moves back around the counter and I swear I hear him suck his finger into his mouth. How fucking erotic. “You’re right. I’ll behave.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “You want to cook for me?”

  I nod and look at him over my shoulder. “I’m not a great cook but I can scramble a few eggs and toast a few rounds.”

  He cocks his head and grins. “Scrambled eggs on toast?”

  “Protein and carbs, perfect for a day of hard graft.”

  His laughter is loud and pleasant; I want to hear it again. “Hard graft?”

  “We’re packing our things, remember?” My brow lifts. “Seeing as we’ve been summoned by the Lord Duke himself.”

  “Smartarse,” he murmurs and pulls his phone from his trouser pocket.

  “Why are you dressed so early anyway?”

  “I have to go to work. We can’t all be ladies of the night.”

  I point at him with the wooden spoon I’m using to stir the eggs. “Fuck you. I’m an exotic dancer. There’s a huge difference.”

  “Would you care to demonstrate the difference later? In my office? On my lap?” I can see he’s teasing and I can’t help but find it alluring and cute.

  I smile and return to the eggs that are fast bubbling in the pan. I quickly add toast to the nearby toaster. “Thank you for having us, by the way.”

  “Oh, you’ll make it up to me, Enna… don’t you worry about that.”

  Gulp. “I need plates.”

  Elijah is silent as I search through the cupboards once more. I find them in a bottom one beside the dishwasher and turn, ready to cheer when I see heated silver eyes on me. It’s then I realise that I’m not wearing underwear and I just bent forward in a shirt that only covers me enough when standing.

  A smirk plays at my lips. “Are you sure you can wait until later?”

  “Are you offering?” He croaks and adjusts himself in his trousers.

  “No, but you have a perfectly capable right hand.”

  He growls and goes to stand, but that’s when Penelope enters the kitchen looking glamorous and ready to start the day. She has her phone in one hand, bag on the other shoulder.

  My heart begins fluttering in my chest. Did she hear us?

  I see an earpiece in her ear and she holds up her finger as she responds to the person on the line in French. I wish I could speak a second language.

  When she’s done, she hardly l
ooks at us when she says, “Got to dash; good luck with today. I’ll call you.” She kisses Elijah’s freshly shaven cheek, waves at me and vanishes from the kitchen again. I didn’t realise until now that I’ve pressed myself against the counter in a bid to hide my bare legs.

  “It’s fine,” Elijah says softly, clearly unperturbed by it all. “Are you going to serve me breakfast or what?”

  Now I dish the food out and butter the toast. We lean on the counter, opposite each other, and eat in near silence.

  “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on,” he suddenly sings in a high-pitched voice, albeit quietly.

  I choke on my egg. I just wasn’t expecting it.

  Laughing, I look up into his eyes. He winks and I feel myself melt a little.

  “Thank you for breakfast.” He slides the plate over to me and grabs his jacket from the end of the marble top counter. “I’ll see you later.”

  “See you later,” I say, my voice breathy.

  I like playful Elijah… I like him a lot.

  “I can smell food, but I don’t see food,” Max announces only a minute after Elijah leaves. “What gives?” He looks all rumpled and cute. His chest is bare, probably because I stole his shirt. The seam of the pillow has left a pink imprint on his cheek.

  Opening the microwave, I hand him his plate and give him a pointed look.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I don’t hide the disdain from my voice. “We should go; you need to take your tablet.”

  “I’ve got some in my wallet.”

  “No you haven’t. You didn’t restock after you took your last one on Thursday. You’ve been taking them from the bottle instead, remember?”

  “How the fuck do you know that?”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re my husband, Max. I’ve been looking after you for years now.”

  “Whatever. Let me finish eating and we’ll go.”

  The day is long and tiring. We pack up the majority of our things and the rest is going to a charity shop around the corner. We don’t even keep the beaten up old furniture.

  When the flat is empty and the clock strikes five, a silent, slow tear trickles from my eye to my jaw.

  Max is happy, of course he is, but this was our first proper place together. It holds so many cute memories for me. It’s my safe place, my home.