“Fuck off.”
Henry’s amusement vanishes and he looks around the room, taking in my books, which are in boxes on the floor, the shelves empty of all the ones we bought for Diana.
“You moving out?” he asks.
I lean one hand on my desk, my chest feeling uncomfortably tight as I struggle to take a full breath. “I let Diana use my office. Her books were on the shelves.”
He examines the empty bookshelves. “You really made space for that girl in your life, eh?”
I let out a wheezing cough, and his eyes widen as he spins to face me.
“What’s wrong with you? You’ve gone all wishy-washy.”
“Wishy-washy?”
“White like a sheet. All limp and floppy.” His face takes on a serious expression. “Do I need to call an ambulance? Did you fuck one of the cleaners? Is she pregnant?”
I shake my head and thrust the mask into his hand. “Does that look like it belongs to me?”
Henry peers at the decidedly feminine mask in his hand. “Well… no. But who am I to determine what you might like?” He squints at it. “Whose is it?”
I snatch it from him and sniff it.Diana’s perfume.
Henry’s face warps, his upper lip curling. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I toss the mask on my desk, where it skids on the leather and comes to a stop next to my computer. “Do you remember it?” I point at the mask. “Do you remember it?” I repeat, louder the second time.
Henry raises his hands, shaking his head like he thinks I’m about to attack him. “I don’t follow.”
“On Saturday night, I went to Delirium to meet the same woman from before. She messaged me, and we met up.”
“Ah.” He thumps his hands together in one dull clap. “She finally messaged. How was it?”
I pace the room, one hand in my pocket, the other deep in my hair. “Fine. Shit. I don’t know.” I stop and tug a finger around the inside of my collar. It’s too tight. Too fucking tight. “Terrible. It was terrible.”
“Did you get her name?”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“Just the mask?” His eyebrows scoot up his forehead. “Did you take it? Did you steal her mask? What’s wrong with you?” He almost laughs, but I can hear genuine concern beneath the sound. “I think I do need to call that ambulance. You’re clearly having some kind of mental breakdown. This woman has turned you into a bloody kleptomaniac.”
I hold up a hand. “Can you shut up for a moment? I didn’t take anyone’s mask. She never took it off. Let me… let me talk this through.”
Henry presses his lips together and nods.
“She was wearing the same perfume Diana wears.”
“So?”
I splay my fingers, gesturing with both hands. “And now the mask is here. In my home.”
Henry’s mouth falls open slightly, his gaze finding the mask, still lying on my desk. His lips curve into a smile, and a low, eager chuckle slips out. “You think it’s her. You think the woman with the mask is Diana?”
I can’t confirm it out loud. Not yet. If my suspicions are correct, this is a diabolical disaster. “She was wearing a mask just like that one. But her hair was different. Different, but the same. And her voice… totally different. Even the way she carried herself. Not the same. It was like two completely different people. And yet…” I grimace as I recall the way she saidMr Bastionbefore I plunged my dick inside her. The words snagged in my brain, caught by an awareness just out of reach. I couldn’t remember if I’d told her or not. I thought I’d just saidRafe, but in the heat of the moment I couldn’t fucking remember, and I was past caring. “I swear that woman was American. But how else didthatmask”—I jab a finger towards it—“gethere?”
“Call her,” Henry says. “What number do you have for Diana?”
I return to pacing back and forth across the room, my palm pressed to my forehead. “I don’t have her number. I didn’t think it was appropriate to have her number. I didn’t need it. She was always here. I knew Lizzie had her number. I didn’t—” I stop and hold up a finger. “Wait” I approach my desk, landing heavily in my chair and opening the top drawer. I shove my hand in amongst the papers. “Lizzie gave it to me when Diana first moved in. She wrote it down.” I pull out the second drawer, tearing through the contents as Henry perches on the edge of my desk, watching.
