Page 4 of Masked Secrets
Slipping off my jacket, I wrap it around her shoulders, saying, “This will keep you warm.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine. I probably shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m not normally that forward.”
“It was all in the name of science. And believe me, I didn’t mind.” I chuckle, a smile plastered on my face.
This whole situation is very unusual for me. My interactions with women are usually constrained by expectations that come with my title and wealth. After all, I’m known as Lord Sandridge,Viscount of Sandridge, and the oldest son of the Earl of Sandridge.
It’s rare to connect with someone who doesn’t know my background. That’s why this encounter with Brooke feels more genuine than my introductions to other women. With her having no idea who I am, our conversation and banter are natural. It’s refreshing—she’s refreshing.
If Brooke didn’t hate being trapped, I wouldn’t mind the power staying off longer. I’m not ready for this special time with her to end.
She whispers, “For some reason, I’m drawn to you. I wanted to kiss you, but it wasn’t a good idea. I don’t know you. This doesn’t make sense.”
“Brooke, I understand. I can honestly say this is the first time I’ve kissed a stranger in a lift too. Let’s take a step back. We have time to chat over a few sips of whiskey. What do you say?”
“I’d like that.”
I sense her raising the flask and hear her taking a long pull. That should help, but I caution, “Be careful. It’s quite strong.”
She presses the flask into my hand.
“Thanks for the reminder. I hope you’ll tell your uncle that it’s excellent. And I’m not usually a whiskey drinker.”
“He’ll be happy to hear that. What’s your normal drink?
“Either a vodka martini with a splash of Grand Marnier or a full-bodied, red wine.”
She’s decisive even in something as simple as drink choices. That’s a pleasant change from many of my dates who refuse to express an opinion.
When asked what they would like to eat or drink, the typical response is, “Whatever you’re having.” I’d love to banish that phrase. It’s infuriating.
If I ordered an Infected Whitehead, they’d probably follow suit and even compliment the sickening combination of vodka,tomato juice, and cottage cheese. I’ve been tempted to place such an order on a date as an experiment, but I haven’t. I’m not sure why not. Maybe my mum really did raise a gentleman. Or, more likely, the thought of drinking it myself outweighs the joy I’d gain from punishing a date for being indecisive and boring.
“I’ll have to try that Grand Marnier martini you mentioned. It sounds good.”
“It is. When you try it, be sure to ask for a twist of orange instead of olives.”
“I will. When we get out of here, maybe you’ll let me buy you one.”
When the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve made a mistake. The last thing I should’ve done is remind her that we’re stuck. My goal is to comfort her, and I’ve just done the exact opposite.
Concern lacing her words, Brooke says, “I don’t understand why the backup generator isn’t working. It’s supposed to provide enough power to move the elevator to a nearby floor so we can exit and take the stairs. Something is clearly wrong. We should call the police. I should have thought of that earlier.”’
Earlier, I noticed my phone doesn’t have a signal. I’d rather her not know that just yet. It could upset her more, so I say, “Let’s wait a few minutes. I’m sure with the brownout, there are more important emergencies for them to deal with first. In the meantime, I’m thirsty. Aren’t you?” I slip the cool metal flask against her hand, hoping she’ll down another calming sip.
“I guess you’re right. We aretechnicallysafe.” She takes the flask.
A change of topic is in order. “Tell me about yourself. Are you meeting work colleagues in the Sky Lounge?”
“Interns. I’m an attorney at a law firm in the building and am supervising two of our summer interns.”
“You must really like them if you’re taking them out for drinks after a long day at work.”
“I do. Cassie and Lowri are great, but that’s not why I was taking them to the bar. It’s part of my job to convince them how great it is to work at our law firm. That means wining and dining them while they’re working with us over the summer.”
“Oh. That’s surprising. I’d think the interns should be trying to impress you instead of the other way around.”
“That would make more sense. The problem is that there’s a lot of competition for the best new lawyers. We recruit and pamper them between their second and third years of law school, hoping the best and brightest will accept offers at the end of the summer.”
