17. Mona
It’s been ten minutes since I told Peyton and Brett my secret—that I have a date tonight with Casper Ridley. Their jaws are still on the ground, and no one’s said a word. I can’t help but laugh, watching Brett’s mouth open and close as whatever he wants to say disappears over and over again.
It’s been three days since I discovered Casper was my masked man.
That night was everything. Not just the sex, but also what came after.
He helped me get cleaned up, carried me to bed, and held me while tracing the outline of my fingers with his.
Somehow, that felt more intimate than anything we had done thus far.
He told me he was a professional hockey player, which explained his traveling and “meetings,” which were actually games. As if he didn’t already know everything about me, we talked for hours, and he listened intently, as if it were all fresh and new information.
Then he told me about his family, how close he was with his parents and his sister, Cambrie. That led to an invite I had absolutely not expected to get anytime soon—dinner at his parents’ house tonight.
I clap my hands in front of their faces, watching the focus return to their eyes. “Get it together. I. Need. Your. Help.”
Brett crosses his arms with a frown. “I can’t believe I manifested this so wrong. He was supposed to be obsessed with me, not you.”
Peyton shoves him and rolls her eyes before offering me a kind, reassuring smile. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous. Now, what do you need?”
I explain that I’m meeting with one of the wealthiest families in the goddamn country for dinner and I can’t wear my usual attire. If I want to make a good impression, which I do, I need to look more like … well, Peyton.
Peyton’s always put together, stunning in the coolest clothes, shoes, and accessories. Her style is chic, clean, a little darker in color, with a slight edge. It’s exactly what I need.
Casper is picking me up here at six o’clock, so I have no time for a mall run after my shift. Even though I am technically sleeping with my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss––or however many people are between us––I’m showing up for work and recruiting help.
“I’m off a couple of hours before you. I’ll run home and get all the options and meet you here when you get off work.
Then we can just use the salon to help you get ready.
” She winks, unable to conceal her happiness for me, and I can’t help but think of the very dirty things Casper and I did in there. “Does that work?”
I’m not sure when these two became people I’d consider friends, let alone best friends. They came out of nowhere, but now, I can’t imagine not having them by my side.
“That sounds great.” I nod, my chest all warm and fuzzy. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I’m happy to help.” She drops an elbow into Brett, who chuckles. “We both are.”
I look like a bubbly Barbie doll by the time Peyton and Brett are through with me, and I’m ninety-five percent sure that my body is having an allergic reaction to the lack of eye shadow and glitter on my face.
Don’t get me wrong; some girls rock the clean aesthetic.
And so do I, but I look like an alien in the mirror, completely unrecognizable.
Peyton curled my hair, brushing it out after the coils cooled, creating looser swirls and ink-black waves that flow down my back.
Both of them decided that this was the outfit I should go with—a navy tweed two-piece, consisting of a skirt and a button-up cropped top that hits the waistband of the bottoms perfectly.
In another universe, I would be an incredible businesswoman. I look hot, just weird. Brett and Peyton both tried to convince me to be myself, but I shut that shit down immediately because no. I’ll sprinkle my real self in over time, so it’s less of a culture shock for the powerful Ridleys.
My phone vibrates on the counter in front of me, and my heart flutters because there’s only one person it could be. My stomach flips like I’m a teenager talking to a cute boy for the first time. I want to vomit for being so pathetically obsessed with him and swoon, knowing that I have him.
Casper: You’re not in your room. Where’d you go? Should I stalk through the cameras and track you down? ;)
I want to see his reaction and not have it happen behind the cameras.
I’ll meet you up there! Stay there! On my way!
Casper: That’s a lot of exclamation points for you. Must be excited to see me
Always
This is usually the part where I’d throw up in my mouth if I were watching this from an outside point of view. But I’m not, and it’s true.
Casper: Sounds good. I’m hanging with baby girl
Pressing my lips together, I fight my smile from physically straining my cheeks. He called Penelope baby girl, like Derek does in Criminal Minds. I need to ask him if he's watched it all on repeat a thousand times like I have or if he’s seen the clips and put it together.
“Oh, he’s so in love with you.” Brett’s giddy voice tickles my ear as he looks down over my shoulder at my phone. “But one question: Where is your room?”
Shit.
I should lie. One hundred percent. But … Peyton and Brett are my friends, and if I trust anyone to have this secret, it’s them. Spinning in the chair, I face them both. But I steal a look around the room to make sure no one’s close enough to hear.
“I’ve been living in a hidden room on the third floor since I started working here.” Lay it out there—that’s the best method.
“I’m sorry. What?” Peyton scoffs in disbelief, and my heart sinks. I prepare for disappointment and the heartbreak that usually follows when I get close to people. “There’s a hidden room in here?”
“Oh my God. Show us!” Brett demands, excitement in his eyes. “I want a hidden room.”
“Wait.” I take a breath. “You guys aren’t going to tell Clara or anything? You’re not freaked out that I’ve been living here?”
Both of their faces frown.
Peyton responds, “Are you kidding? No, we’d never do that to you. Besides, what’s Clara going to do—tell her boss, who’s your soon-to-be sister-in-law?”
I chuckle, feeling light as a feather. In a way, she’s got a point. Casper would protect me however and whenever, but I don’t want him to ever think I’m using him for position or money.
“Come on.” Brett grabs my hand and helps me up, my legs a little wobbly in the kitten heels I’m borrowing. Honestly, if Peyton and I had more similar style, I would be robbing her closet all the time because we share the same size in everything. “To the third floor we go.”
A nervous giggle leaves me. “You guys are coming up?”
Peyton hooks her arm in mine. “Of course we are. Someone has to threaten him about hurting you.”
“Oh, trust me, even if I hurt him, he would love it.” I laugh as Brett’s arm finds my other one.
They continue to gush about Casper, me, and me and Casper all the way up to the third floor. At the top of the staircase, I pull us left toward my room.
Brett tries stopping at the door on the left, trying the locked doorknob with no success.
“No, that’s not my room.” I laugh, dropping their arms and walking over to the sconce, pressing the button. My door pops out of the lock, and they gasp in unison. “This is ... ”
I shift the door open another inch. “Warning,” I announce. “I brought … friends.”
Peyton and Brett are practically vibrating behind me as I push the door open, letting all three of us slip inside before shutting the door.
When my eyes land on him, I suddenly wish I hadn’t brought them up here because this moment with just Casper and me would’ve been magical.
But maybe learning to share the favorite parts of our lives with others is the whole point.
Making connections, opening yourself up—while terrifying, it makes life, life.
The broken friendships and shattered hearts that led me here was all worth it.
My eyes can’t stop devouring him. Perfectly styled blond waves. A black knit sweater that has a black cat with an arched back and hair standing on end sewn on the front, his slutty little chain hanging over the collar. His hands are tucked in the pockets of his blue jeans.
Good God, he looks like he could’ve been plucked out of a ’90s fall film. So fucking hot.
My eyes lift back up the length of his body to his face, and my heart sinks when I see his expression—eyebrow pinched, mouth agape.
“Mona, what, umm … are you still getting ready?” he asks gently.
I can’t help but chuckle, my hands immediately playing with the fabric of the skirt. “What do you mean? It’s an outfit that I … I thought it would be fitting to meet your family.”
Oh God, is it not fancy enough? Word vomit pours out of me, and I can’t stop it, my anxiety eating me alive as he takes a step toward me.
“Peyton has other clothes if you think something dressier would be better. I just want to make a good impression, and your family are very businessy people. They probably wouldn’t want their son dating a—”
He closes the distance between us, the anger in his face cutting me off.
Swallowing hard, I completely forget about Peyton and Brett at my back. God, I just wanted this to be perfect, and I feel like I messed it all up somehow.
A soft, endearing smile drifts up his beautiful face. “Mona—”
I cut him off, “I’m sorry. I was just trying to fit in. I’ll pick something else—”
He presses his hand gently against my lips to stop me, not too hard to smear the mauve lipstick.
“No, no, no. You look amazing—you always do. But”—his eyes trail down my body—“you don’t look like you.
” His golden-brown eyes hold mine, unyielding and loving.
“You’re not changing yourself to fit into my world, Mona. I’ll change the world to fit to you.”
Those stupid emotional droplets well in my eyes, and if it wasn’t for the peanut gallery, who, “Aww,” a second later, I’d be sobbing from how much I like this man—although like is incredibly not enough.
Casper smiles at them before looking back down to me, a smirk forming on his lips. “Besides, one of us has to wear this tonight, and I think it’ll look a thousand times better on you.”
Striding away, he picks up a dress bag from my bed that I didn’t even notice. He peels the zipper down, parting the seams and revealing the dress inside.
My lips part on an inhale, my eyes studying it like my life depends on it. It’s a dark brown leopard-print slip-style midi dress with black lace trim on the V-neckline.
It’s gorgeous.
He tosses the empty dress bag on the bed, grabbing something else—a sheer, long-sleeved black mesh top to go under the dress. “I’m going to be honest—Cambrie helped me. But I’m stealing some of her credit because I can.”
“It’s … literally perfect.” I beam, my fingers tingling to rip the clothes from him to put on.
But then I once again remember my two friends are still in the room.
Turning to them, I widen my eyes. “Can I call you guys later?”
Brett shakes his head while Peyton nods, chiming in, “Of course, but we want the full tour another time.”
“You got it.” I chuckle and reach over, unlatching the door.
Peyton peeks around the corner, making sure the coast is clear before she and Brett scurry out.
Casper walks over and pulls the door back into place before turning to me. “Just a social butterfly now, huh?”
“Oh, shove it.” I glare at him. “Gimme.”
Stepping toward me, he holds the clothes behind his back. “No thank you, my king?”
When I roll my eyes, he catches my jaw, lowering his face to mine and slipping his tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeply. My body ignites, humming from his passionate caress.
Rearing back, he wipes the lipstick off and hands the clothes over.
“Change, and then do your makeup the way you want. The way YOU want. That’s the only opinion that matters, baby.
” He tips my chin up, stroking his thumb across my cheek as a roaring fire blazes in his eyes.
“If anyone has anything to say, they can answer to the Ridleys. It’ll be your name soon enough anyway. ”
Hot. Hot. Hot. That’s fucking hot.
I’m suddenly very glad that I’m on his good side because I would hate to face an angry Casper. He may be kind and sweet, but he’s also the same psycho who hid cameras in my room and stalked me for the last two months—before I even knew about my masked man’s existence, mind you.
“Okay. I’ll add extra glitter just for you.” I giggle.
“As much glitter as you want.” He smiles, playfully drilling his point home.
“Oh my God, I get it.” I shove his chest, rolling my eyes and laughing. “Are you going to turn around so I can change?”
“God, no,” he scoffs, plopping down on my bed with his arms kicked back, ready for his favorite show.