The Agent #2
The tingle from his eyes on me returned, scratching down my back like claws.
Glancing to the side, I caught a glimpse of him hidden in a corner on the other side of the room, still confining himself to the shadows despite his mask.
As expected, his gaze was fixed on my hand in Tony’s.
Underneath that mask, I bet there was a frown to match the lividity in his eyes.
“Thank you,” I replied to Tony. “You’re quite a sight as well. I love your mask.”
He grinned. “Thanks. It was custom-made.”
“From real gold?”
He scoffed. “Oh, please. Our family works with the finest of metals; we wouldn’t waste their value on simple things like this.”
“Finest of metals?” I raised a brow. “May I ask what work you do with them?”
“Well, my father is the founder of Gilded Gems. I’m serving as CEO of the company now that he’s retired.”
Oh, so he was the heir of a high-end jewelry company. Nice, but why did the company name sound so familiar? I racked through my brain for a moment, trying to place where I’d heard it from.
Isabelle’s father mentioned it a few times over the “family” dinners she’d dragged me to. Something about shared investments and potential partnerships. The last name Monticello sounded like someone he probably played golf with.
Which means he has some stake - whether personal or professional - in this conversation.
If Tony and I hit it off, maybe his family will cough up more money.
Or my family will climb yet another rung in social status from our union.
Either way, this introduction wasn’t made with our own interests at heart.
Times like this, I remembered my mother only cared about my existence when it benefitted her.
I almost didn’t realize she’d ditched us until I glanced to the side, ready to give her an evil eye for setting me up like this without warning.
Rather than my side, she’d gone back to Isabelle’s, now beaming with pride as she showed off her engagement ring to a group of older women.
She’d never stood beside me like that. Not when Dad was alive. Not during her wedding. Not even when I played life by her rules and graduated law school. For whatever reason, I’m just not good enough for her.
Unless I marry a man like the one she’d introduced me to tonight, I fear I never will be.
Tears I’ve done a good job keeping inside pricked at my eyes. I excused myself from Tony’s side and headed for the french doors leading outside.
The cool air froze the moisture forming in my eyes.
Wind nipped at my bare shoulders as I padded down the steps towards the garden-esque backyard, leaving the music and chatter of the party behind.
Bushes, usually filled with flowers of all colors, were bare in this weather.
Even the green of their leaves were pale, struggling to survive against the chill in the air.
The stiff grass crunched underneath my heels as I wandered through the garden. I found a stone bench around the bend, overlooking the hill the estate sat on. The lights of the winding roads and small houses below glowed like little fireflies.
Cold stone kissed my legs through my dress as I sat down on it.
Sighing, I wrapped my arms around myself to ease the goosebumps rising on my skin.
I promised myself I wouldn’t be out here for long.
I just needed a minute of silence to catch my breath.
Adjust my own mask before anyone noticed it’d slipped.
I closed my eyes and pulled in a breath, shoving all the tears back with it.
I was okay. Right now, I need to be okay.
All the crying and self-loathing could wait until later - when I was in bed with a bottle of wine and mindless reality shows on the television.
Then I could feel like shit without being shamed for it.
A curtain of warmth suddenly dropped over my shoulders, breaking my train of thought.
Popping my eyes open, I looked down at the suit jacket now laying over my shoulders. The woody scent, though new and still unfamiliar, wiped away the tension threatening to build within my shoulders. “What do you want?” I asked, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
“It’s freezing out here,” he replied. From my peripheral vision, I watched his figure move around the bench and take a seat beside me. “And it’s dark.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“After what I saw the other night, I’m not so sure about that.”
I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and tugged it tighter around me. “Mateo, huh?” I mused. “Is that your real name or your alias for the night?”
“It’s the name I respond to when I’m called.”
“Somehow, that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“What’s wrong?” He asked, changing the subject. “One minute you were fine, the next you were storming out. Did the trust fund baby offend you?”
I almost laughed. “No. I, uh…I just needed some fresh air.”
His fingers, light as a feather, grasped my chin and turned my head to face him. “Then, what happened?” He asked. The moonlight glowed in his brown eyes, illuminating the sincerity and intrigue floating within them.
“What do you think happened?” I retorted. “Aren’t you the one who supposedly knows everything about my life?”
“Not everything. Observations are helpful, but I can’t read your mind, Simone.” He squeezed my chin between his thumb and index finger. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Isn’t it obvious? In there, I’m invisible.
Hell, I might as well be everywhere else too.
Most people either see what they want to see and ignore what they don’t.
My family, my colleagues, general society; they’re all the same.
” Water burned behind my eyes again, and I blinked to keep them at bay.
“I just want to be seen for who I am - not what people want me to be.”
“I see you.”
Scoffing, I shook my head, freeing myself of his grasp. “Don’t pretend to empathize with me. ”
“I’m not pretending.”
The conviction in his voice made me look at him again.
“Simone, I’ve been watching you for the past two - almost three months now.
I know you have trouble sleeping sometimes because your mind doesn’t stop running.
I know you’re still carrying your grief on your back even though sometimes it’s killing you.
I know once you set your mind on something, you’re not giving up until you’ve achieved it.
You are strong, intelligent and resilient.
Anyone who can’t see that is a damn fool.
” He reached for the ends of my mask. Cautiously, he pulled it away, revealing the tiny streaks running down my face.
“I see you,” he repeated. “And you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. ”
His words left me with none. I didn’t know there was anything I could say in response to that. No man has ever spoken so gently and admirably of me. Not even behind closed doors.
I wished I could see whatever he did as he stared at me now. Beyond the tears. Beyond this dress. Beyond the pain.
But, above all, I wanted to see him as well. Him and all he was hiding in the shadows he lived in.
I reached for his mask, and he flinched backwards as if I were about to deliver a blow. “Please,” I whispered.
His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t move away as my fingers inched for his mask again. He was stiff as a board as I grasped the edge near his ear and slid it off of his face.
Scars caught my eyes first. They ran like waterfalls across his face, streaming across his umber brown in all different directions, shapes, and lengths. The one slicing through his eyebrow down through his eye and stopping at his cheek was the most prominent.
Yet, they didn’t take away from the beauty of his sharp jawline and almond-shaped eyes.
I raised my hand again, cautiously setting it on his cheek. My thumb trailed over one of the scars on his cheek, rough beneath my skin and packed with a story I wanted to hear. “Wow,” I whispered. “You’re beautiful.”
His brows twitched, a crack in the apathetic, almost emotionless expression on his face. He cupped his hand over my wrist. For a moment, I thought he was going to try to pull it away. Instead, he pressed my palm harder against his skin.
His eyes bounced between mine, their walls falling with every flick.
Behind them were waves of misery and longing and pain - each massive and all-consuming.
All I wanted to do was put myself between them and him.
Return the favor he’d done for me and save him from the demons haunting his own dreams.
His gaze lowered to my lips and a muscle in his jaw jumped.
Scooting closer, I slid my hand across his face and onto the back of his neck. I added some pressure in silent encouragement.
He followed the call, slowly leaning forward.
I tilted my head up to meet him halfway.
Our lips brushed against each other, the touch lighter than a feather.
Then, a blinding spotlight flashed onto us and the harsh volume of a megaphone sliced through the silence.
“FBI!” A voice I knew all too well yelled. “Don’t move!”