 by Lauren Blakely.jpg)
Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I didn’t go to the exclusive, after-hours masquerade to kiss my dad’s best friend. I didn’t even know who the masked man was when he touched me like I was his every fantasy.
But when I learn exactly how off-limits my new lover is, I do my best to avoid him the next time. Except, he has his sinful sights set on me, even when he discovers who I am. Just one time, he whispers. Then we’ll pretend this never happened.
Seems the enigmatic, gorgeous single dad I’ve known by day is a very dirty man after dark.
What’s a good girl to do?
Say yes and walk away in the morning, keeping our secret.
Especially when I learn the next day my father’s best friend is my brand new boss.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
HUSH HUSH
Jules
My friend Scarlett is begging me to fill in for her tomorrow night, but really, she doesn’t have to ask twice. The second she called and asked, “Can you play piano at The Scene?” I was all in.
“Yes,” I say as calmly as I can while I hustle past the turnstiles on Fourteenth Street.
“Thanks. I forgot all about my shift at the bar,” Scarlett says, then hesitates. “And can you still play Gershwin? They’re big on ‘Rhapsody in Blue.’”
“My fingers remember all the jazz standards from my childhood,” I tell her as I rush down the crowded steps to the platform, dodging harried New Yorkers racing up. Showtime’s at eight for a critics’ screening for a new TV series I worked on. I can’t be late, but I don’t want to press pause on this call and take a chance Scarlett might ask someone else to sub.
I soothe her worries even as I enter the belly of the subway beast. “I can play a ton of masquerade songs.”
As an incoming train on the other platform rattles in, she’s unexpectedly silent before she says, “Oh. I didn’t think I said it was a masquerade?”
Shoot. Did I just give myself away? But I’ve kept my own secrets for years. I’ve had to keep them. “With a name like The Scene, I took a guess,” I say confidently.
Another pause, then she speaks. “Well, good one, babe. Anyway, the parties are kind of hush-hush with the whole masquerade thing, and they’re also kind of risqué. So I wanted to make sure you’re definitely free tomorrow night and…well, that you’re comfortable with it.”
Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea. “I’m great with masquerades,” I answer in the same tone I’d say I’m great with people at a job interview.
“Oh good. I thought you might be, since we’ve been clubbing,” she says with a naughty little lilt in her tone. “And every time I see you, you always look like someone different.”
Well, that’s kind of the point.
I check for my train, peering down the tunnel but not getting too close to the tracks. The phone connection will sputter out any second, and I don’t need to tell her the extent of my wardrobe and wigs to prove I’m the woman for the gig. She already knows my credentials. Knows, too, I helped pay for my own college by teaching piano. Still, I want this gig badly so I need to assuage all of her concerns. “The only thing on my schedule tomorrow night was putting on a sea-clay eye mask and listening to a playlist. So, I’m totally free to help out. I’ve got you,” I tell her, selling myself subtly.
I’m not about to disclose the real reason I am bursting inside and already counting down the hours.
“Thank god. I can’t believe I spaced. We’re already short-staffed here, so my boss was going to kill me. But let me know if I can help with anything,” she says, then hesitates. “Except, Jules…”
“Yes?” I ask tightly, hoping she’s not backing out of her offer now.
“It’s important you don’t use your name. The members like the privacy and figure if they don’t know yours, you don’t need to know theirs.”
“I’m a vault,” I say, and nothing in my life is more true than that.
“And the dress code is costume light for the musician, so it’s up to you if you want to wear one. But the mask is a strict requirement. Not the sea-clay variety though.”
“I’ll make sure I wash it off before I go,” I deadpan.
She laughs, then adds, “I know some websites with overnight delivery for masquerade masks.” Scarlett is in full-on helpful mode now. “And I can recommend some cheap costume shops too.”
My friend doesn’t have to recommend a thing. I’m a junior TV producer by day…whoever I want to be by night.
“I know where a few are too,” I add as the rattle of the downtown train grows louder.
“You’re a goddess,” Scarlett says with obvious relief, then adds that she’ll text me more details, like the theme and the secret password.