Page 28 of Masked Secrets
I’m mortified, but he merely chuckles.
“You look great. Just straighten your clothes and no one will ever know. Besides, I told them we’re just working together,” he confirms as he finger-combs his hair and, voilà, looks like nothing happened.
It’s so easy for guys. Not for me though. I’m sure my makeup is smudged, my blouse is untucked from my skirt, and my hair is a mess of tangles.
The blouse is the easiest fix, so I quickly tuck it in. Reaching for my purse, I retrieve my compact mirror and check my makeup. It’s not as bad as I feared. Thank god for waterproof mascara. A quick swipe of lipstick and I’m good to go on that front.
Unfortunately, my hair is a complete mess, and I don’t have a comb or brush. I try running my fingers through it, but that doesn’t remove the tangles. If anything, I’m making them worse. My only option is to pull my hair back into a ponytail. Let’s hope I have a hair tie in my purse.
Rummaging through it, I’m about to give up when I find one in the zipper compartment. Whew! Pulling it out, I’m horrified to see that it’s neon orange—not something that goes with my suit. Oh well. I don’t have much choice at this point.
As I gather my hair into a ponytail, I ask, “So your friends own a house in Malibu?”
“No. My mates, Evan and Sean, are renting it while they’re here on vacation. It was pure coincidence that we’re all in LA at the same time.”
“Did you say that you met them in college?”
“Exactly. Evan is from Europe, and Sean is from Las Vegas. I was a couple of years ahead of them at uni, but we had common interests. We’ve stayed close friends ever since and often spend at least part of each summer on holiday together. Honestly, if Dad hadn’t become ill and needed me to substitute for him, I’d likely have joined them for at least a week or two this summer.”
“You make it sound like they spend all summer traveling the world for fun.”
“They do.”
I’m about to ask more questions, but my jaw drops when the car comes to a halt. We’re not at just any Malibu beach house. We’re at a fucking mansion.
Who are these people?
16
STUART
Brooke looks awed and impressed. The house is rather large, but it’s no less than what I’d expect my friends to select.
The entrance to the modern glass-and-concrete home is at the back of an open-air courtyard filled with lush greenery.
We walk along the stone pathway that crosses a koi pond, stopping at oversized, etched glass double doors. The doors are built into a wall of varnished teak. In contrast, the two sidewalls of the courtyard are made of natural stone that’s been carved into ocean-themed murals. The artwork depicts every imaginable ocean creature from tiny fish to whales.
We ring the doorbell, which swiftly emits the sounds of soothing wind chimes blowing in the coastal breeze.
Soon, a stout, gray-haired woman opens one of the front doors. I’m not certain whether she’s the housekeeper, security, or both.
“Hello, I’m Lord Sandridge and this is my guest, Ms. Bennett. Evan and Sean are expecting us.”
“Of course, please come in. I’m Gwendolyn. I’ll tell Carl to bring in your luggage.”
“Thank you, Gwendolyn. There’s no need to bother Carl. We’re only here for the day. There’s no luggage.”
“Understood. Your friends are waiting for you on the back patio. Follow me.”
Walking through the front door, we’re in a spacious, two-story entryway with a clear view of the Pacific Ocean at the far back of the large home.
We trail slightly behind Gwendolyn as she leads us from the entry, through the long, wide passage to the back wall of glass doors that open onto a terrace. As we step outside, she says, “Sirs, your guests have arrived.”
Sean and Evan hurry over to greet us. We hug and slap each other on the back in our standard greeting.
Turning toward Brooke, Sean blurts, “Aren’t you going to introduce yourfriend?”
“Of course. Brooke, meet Sean and Evan. Sean’s the blond, blue-eyed American. Evan is the dark-haired one who talks more like me.”
