Beneath This Mask (Beneath, #1)(13)

She strolled in fifteen minutes late with a wide, satisfied smile.

“You totally got laid this morning, didn’t you?” I asked.

Her smile, if possible, got wider. “Oh, hell yes I did. You never told me that Con was a stallion in the sack.”

Ummm. What the f*ck?

I gaped. “Seriously? I mean … what the hell?”

When she registered my look of shock, her feline smile faded. “Oh shit. I thought you were … done with your friends with bennies thing with him. I never would have if I’d thought you were…”

I held up a hand. “It’s fine. I’m not jealous. I’m just … surprised.” And I wasn’t jealous. I didn’t even feel a pang. It was like my body had moved on from Con Leahy and wanted someone new. He who would remain unnamed.

“So what happened with Simon Duchesne?” Yve asked.

Okay, maybe he wouldn’t remain unnamed.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.” To myself I added, Except I sort of threw myself at him and saw him naked. And good God…

Yve leaned back against the counter. “That’s too many ‘nothings’ in one sentence for that to be the truth. Spill, girl.”

“Do I have to?” I winced at my whiny tone. It was not attractive.

“After that answer, hell yes, you do.” She crossed her arms and pinned me with her amber stare. I took in her golden brown skin and curly dark locks. She had on a teal halter dress with pink and teal platforms.

“You look really cute today, by the way.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Spill. Now.”

I rolled my eyes and spilled. Her mouth was hanging open by the time I finished recounting the events of Saturday night.

“So you see, it was a humiliating mess. And I’m better off having dodged that bullet.”

She closed her gaping mouth and tapped a finger to her lips. “Dayum. Only you, Charlie. Only you would find a guy who won’t let you ‘one night’ him. I gotta see this man who’s got your wet panties in a twist.” She moved behind the counter and started typing. I could only assume she was Googling him. I forced myself to stay where I was.

“Holy shit. Now that’s a man. Damn, can he wear black tie. And in a uniform…” She fanned herself. I clenched my fists, embracing the sting of my nails digging into my palms. She started to read. “Simon Jefferson Duchesne. Age thirty-one. Highly decorated fighter pilot honorably discharged from the Navy two years ago, after he spent a year teaching at his alma mater, the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis. Only son of Jefferson Duchesne and Margaret LeBlanc Duchesne. The senior Mr. Duchesne served sixteen years as a congressman for Louisiana’s 2nd Congressional District, leaving his seat to run for governor. After he was defeated in his gubernatorial bid, he purchased a small Mississippi River shipping company, Southern Cross Logistics, which he has grown over the past decade to the ranks of the Fortune 500. Currently, the younger Mr. Duchesne is serving as vice president of Southern Cross, in addition to being a councilman for District A of the NOLA City Council. It is rumored he will be announcing his candidacy this fall to challenge the incumbent for his father’s congressional seat.”

I’d known the bare bones of this information, but hearing the details just highlighted our differences, once again reminding me why it was better I avoided him. I tried to tell myself this was a good thing. Then she continued.

“Simon Duchesne is frequently accompanied to charity events by long-time friend Vanessa Frost. Rumors abound as to the couple’s status, and all are speculating whether Mr. Duchesne will pop the question prior to hitting the campaign trail. Ms. Frost is the daughter of Royce Frost, CEO of Louisiana Steel Products, and the late Amelia Bennett Frost, heiress to the Bennett textile empire…”

The roar of blood rushing in my ears drowned out whatever Yve said next. I exhaled, feeling like someone had punched me in the gut. Long-time friend? Pop the question? A f*cking heiress? What the hell? So why the f*ck was he naked in my backyard on Saturday night? And why am I so pissed?

I pushed the anger and disappointment away. I told myself that now I knew I’d dodged a bullet. I didn’t screw around with guys who were taken. But if he were the cheating * I wanted to paint him as, why wouldn’t he have jumped at the opportunity to nail and bail? Nothing about Simon Duchesne added up.

“Charlie.” My attention snapped back to Yve. “Calm the hell down. It’s all gossip from the society pages. Who knows the truth? I’d say actions speak louder than this trash.” She gestured to the monitor.

“It doesn’t matter. I mean, whatever happened Saturday night was an anomaly. Not to be repeated. I’ll probably never see him again anyway.” Why had I felt the need to tack on that last sentence? Like I wanted to see him again? Ugh.




The rest of my shift passed slowly, and I was gearing up to head out when we closed at five o’clock. Mondays weren’t busy, so we’d been able to get ready for closing while the store was still open. Huck was bouncing on his paws, eager to get outside when I clipped the leash to his collar. I was pretty excited too, because I had the rest of the night free. Cognizant of Huck’s excess energy, I decided to walk my bike rather than risk another encounter that would require first aid. We were seven blocks away from the store and three blocks away from home when all hell broke loose.