Page 52 of All Fall Down

The heat of my breath collects inside it, but there’s something comforting about having the mask on. Behind this, I can be Emma Southerly again instead of Jameson’s girlfriend or murder suspect or gold digger. With this on, none of those labels seem to stick. There’s liberation in deception.

I place the mask gently onto the nightstand and begin to strip. I’ll have to do something with my hair, but make-up won’t be as important if I stay hidden all night. I hadn’t considered that perk of a masquerade party. Squirming into the dress, I realize that it’s not compatible with my current underwear. My gaze strays to the thong I’ve left on the bed.

“Seriously?” I say to myself.

A soft laugh startles me and I pivot to find Jameson standing the doorway.

“Do you knock?” I ask, trying to tug up the stuck zipper.

“It’s my room,” he reminds me. He pushes the door closed behind him.

“I’ll knock next time.” I give up on the zipper and cross my arms over my chest.

“You’re in a mood,” he notes as he comes closer. When he reaches me, he runs the back of his hand down my arm. The effect of his touch is both soothing and exciting.

“This party is a terrible idea,” I admit. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“And disappoint all those people who want to be your friends now?”

Jameson has no idea the real reason that I’ve planned this gathering tonight. The more people who know, the worse are chances are of catching the murderer. But as the party gets closer, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a good idea at all. What if I’m wrong? I’ll be exposing myself and Jonas to even more scrutiny from the police.

A pit opens in my stomach as I consider an even worse possibility: what if I don’t want to know who killed Nathaniel West?

“None of the people coming tonight matter,” he continues, mistaking my silence as hesitance. “If you want to cancel, then we will. Although might I request you wear this dress tonight regardless.”

“I don’t think I can wear this dress period,” I say absently, picking up the collection of strings I’m pretty certain are supposed to be underwear. “I mean, look at this! Why bother?”

Jameson adjusts his collar with one hand. “You should give them a fair chance.”

“Oh yeah?”

He takes them from me and dangles them off his index finger. “You should definitely give these a chance.”

“Aren’t you worried about me bending over?” I ask.

“I’ll just have to stay behind you all night and keep the view to myself.”

It’s too late to call tonight off, and I can’t freak myself out a second longer, so when Jameson backs me toward his bedroom wall, I don’t resist. His breath is hot on my neck as he trails his lips down to the curve of my shoulder.

“When is this party?” he whispers.

“Who cares?” I breathe.

Jameson’s hands bunch my flimsy skirt around my waist as he presses his body against mine. “That’s the right answer, Duchess.”

When Josie arrives an hour later, I’m in a much better mood. The party doesn’t start for another hour but she’s already dressed in a slinky, red wrap dress. The mask she’s chosen is the same brilliant crimson.

“Va va voom!” I exclaim when she parks herself in the kitchen. Monroe’s made it clear that I’m not to touch anything. I’ve been cut out of the party planning entirely. Instead, I’m stealing nibbles from the food trays.

Josie holds up her mask so I can see the two tiny horns protruding from the top. “I’m going for she-devil.”

“And winning,” I assure her, offering her a tiny sandwich from a fancy, silver platter.

She takes one and pops the whole thing in her mouth. Then she gives a thumbs up. “You didn’t tell me this party was going to be so…”

“Over-the-top?” I suggest.

“Actually I was thinking serious. Passed hors d’oeuvres and champagne. It’s a little different from…” she trails away as horror slackens her face.