Page 11 of Unmasked

My throat tightened as I took in her words.

“You’ve changed… and I didn’t see it coming. I did but.” I stopped. “Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“I wasn’t left a choice. If anything, it was for the best. That’s the only positive besides Marian that I can take from the last year.”

“I was so lost in loving you, in reuniting, I didn’t even let my mind go there. I refused.”

“I’m still here. Just.” She stopped. “Different. Vaughn, these trials⁠—”

“No.” I cut her off, not wanting to talk about this. Not the trials or Katia or the year we’d spent apart. “Have you decided on your first event?”

There was hesitation on Penelope’s end.

“There are a few options. Able is trying to decide on the right one.”

“I talked with the Masters earlier. They will be coming together with their own events. They’ll keep you close and safe while putting you in the limelight. They want to help and be involved.”

“That’s kind of them. I’d truly love to get close to the Masters. To get to know them better. That is important.”

Because she’d be The High Mistress of The Order. She’d take my place. She’d have to tame the monsters, not me.

“Theodore has returned. He will be calling on you soon as well. I believe a few dinner dates are in order to keep appearances before he begins to pull back. There’s no rush for that though. His interest will keep those away that matter.”

“Like King Lawrence.”

It wasn’t a question. I felt my fist clench around the remote.

“Exactly.”

“He will come to me soon. We both know it.”

“And you will reject him⁠—”

“I will not.”

My eyes widened. “Repeat that?”

“To reject him openly after finally returning to society will cause the worst scandal. It’ll do more harm for us than good. He will lose interest when he sees we no longer have anything in common.”

“Penelope.”

Her name came out more as a growl.

“You don’t like it, but there is no other way.”

She was right, and I hated it.

Seconds passed. I pushed the remote down on my desk, standing and heading to my bar.

“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he won’t come.”

Still, I didn’t speak. I poured a glass of scotch, growing angrier by the day. And it wasn’t Penelope’s fault. I hadn’t thought things through like I usually did. Penelope muddled my mind. She stole it, deluding my sanity with moans and images of nothing but her.

“The men are waiting for me to go over surveillance for the walk. There’s only three days until Holy Night. Will I see you?”

“Will you escape me.” I tossed back the drink. “That’s what you should be asking.”

“Enough. Tell me.”