Masked Desires by Elizabeth Coldwell Read Free Book Online

carrying themselves with all the confidence of someone who thinks the world can one day belong to them.
    Every time I considered how lucky I was to have an affordable apartment in such a desirable area, I had to pinch myself. The landlord was an old friend of my grandmother’s, and when I’d been looking for somewhere to live in my college days, she used her not inconsiderable charm on him to persuade him to let the place out to me at well below the market rate. Recently, though, he seemed to have taken notice of how much real estate had become worth around here, and was talking about selling up, and moving to some retirement complex in Florida. A new landlord would set about fixing the plumbing and giving the building the renovation it so badly needed, pushing the rent way beyond my means when the work was finished. But I’d worry about that when it happened. For now, my focus remained on making sure I didn’t let Eddie down at the ball.
    By the time Saturday evening came round, I was a mess of nerves. Eddie had told me he’d call round to collect me at around 6.45, so we could take a cab up to Central Park West and the Mallory Hotel together. I hadn’t been able to share the fact we were going to the Masquerade Ball with anyone. I’d rung Delia for a girly conversation, only for her to tell me she was at her mom’s home for a family celebration, and she’d talk to me when she got back, and somehow it didn’t seem fair to mention it to Penny, who was working the Friday night shift alongside me. She’d been an employee of Eddie’s for far longer than me; by rights, she ought to be the one accompanying him to the ball. Though maybe her boyfriend, who was one of the leading lights of the NYU track team, might have something to say if she did.
    For once, the water heater was behaving itself, and I’d taken a long, hot bath, exfoliating from head to toe before applying body lotion that left a hint of glitter on my skin. I’d thought about pouring a glass of wine to drink in the tub, to give me a little Dutch courage, then decided against it. In my new dress and with darker, smokier eye make-up than I usually wore – even though I knew my eyes would be hidden behind the mask all evening, I still wanted to create an impact – I felt like a different person. Someone daring; someone who gave in to their impulses, rather than standing on the sidelines, watching life go on all around them.
    I was admiring my new look in the mirror, examining my reflection from all angles, when the door buzzer rang. Almost tripping over my heels in my haste to answer it, I pressed the button and said, ‘Yes?’
    ‘Hey, Summer, it’s Eddie.’
    ‘Come on up. I’m on the third floor.’ I heard the snick as I pushed the door release, and turned my attention to putting my phone and wallet into my evening bag. Eddie must have taken the stairs two at a time, because it seemed like only moments before he was knocking at my apartment door. ‘Be right with you,’ I called, slicking more gloss over already shiny lips.
    When I opened the door, we both stared at each other. Apart from the afternoon I’d walked into his bar and wangled the job, he’d never seen me in anything other than his staff uniform, and as far as I was concerned, he lived in T-shirt and jeans. So for a moment, we were strangers meeting for the first time.
    Delia and I had had a long, Cosmopolitan-fuelled conversation one night, debating whether a guy looked hotter in smart or casual clothes. At the time, I’d asserted that nothing could be sexier than the all-time classic combination of blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and until now I’d continued to believe that. Looking at Eddie in his form-fitting black tuxedo was causing me to revise that opinion rapidly. He hadn’t gone so far as to get a haircut or shave his beard as a concession to the occasion, but that just added to his charm, at least as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t sure his stepsister would