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“Yes. I still have a masquerade mask from another party. Might as well put it to use, and so, I thought it would be fun to try something different this year.” Mary says. “What about you? Got any masks lying around?”

“I’m not the type to dress up much.” It’s the truth.

She nods thoughtfully, regarding me with those perceptive blue eyes. “Have you ever… been to a masquerade party before?”

Admitting to attending a masquerade would only fuel her suspicions. I catch myself staring at the curve of her neck, remembering the taste of her skin when we…

“One or two.”

I expect her to keep probing, but instead, an odd expression passes over her face. The playful smile faded, and her eyes lost their sparkle.

“Blue, what’s wrong?” I ask.

She shakes her head, turning her attention back to the computer screen. “Everything is fine.” Her tone doesn’t match her words.

I walk over, breaking her line of sight to the monitor. “Are you sure?”

A too-bright smile forms on her face as her eyes meet mine. Dull. “Yes, everything is fine.”

My chest tightens at the sight of her feigned happiness. Fuck. I would love to just check her messages, but I promised her.

She set these ground rules…

Why did I agree to them again? Right, because I will do everything for this woman.

Besides, knowing that I did have access to her messages, she probably stopped writing things I shouldn’t know.

She stands, rising up on her toes to kiss me. It’s a gentle, tender gesture. Her lips are soft, but the kiss feels forced.

“Really, Connor, don’t worry. I just need to concentrate on this report. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She’s kicking me out? That’s a first.

“Alright. I’ll let you focus. But first… How about a real goodnight kiss before I go?”

Mary hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly. My hands settle on the curve of her waist as I lean down and capture her lips with mine.

This kiss is different from the tender one she gave me before. I deepen it, my tongue insistently seeking entrance as I back her up against the desk. She parts her lips, allowing me in, but there’s no passion behind it. Her body is pliant, but her mind is clearly elsewhere.

Is it really just work?

My fingers tangle in her hair as I angle her head, taking more control of the kiss. I pour all my want, my need for her, into it. But it’s like she’s not really there with me. Just going through the motions.

Part of me wants to stop and ask her what’s wrong. But the other part, the selfish part, doesn’t want to ruin this moment. Doesn’t want to break the spell and have her retreat back into herself again.

So I ignore the nagging feeling in my gut and keep kissing her. Harder. Deeper. Trying to coax some kind of response out of her with my lips, my hands, my body pressed against hers.

She lets out a soft sigh, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. For a second, I think I’ve reached her. That the fog has lifted, and she’s present with me again.

But then her grip goes slack, and I realize she’s just mimicking what she thinks I want from her. There’s no real feeling behind it.

My hand clenches as frustration rises inside me. I want to shake her, to demand that she tell me what the fuck is going on in that beautiful head of hers.

Instead, I slowly break the kiss and rest my forehead against hers. My breath is ragged as I struggle to control the storm of emotions raging within me.

I murmur, forcing the words out. “Goodnight, Blue.”

“Goodnight, Connor.”

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