Unmasked

Valerie's POV

After sleeping over at Finn's house, attending my appointment with Ms. Coleman and having late afternoon lunch with Finn at one of my hotels, I was finally climbing up the steps to my building. Of course, I sighed deeply as hurried steps echoed behind me, I hadn't gotten rid of Finn yet.

I threw a glance over a shoulder, "What now, Matthews? Do I owe you dinner, too?"

Finn sent me a glare. His excessive eye-roll told me he thought I was full of it. Finn pushed a small object my way. I peered down. My lipstick? I took it from him, stashing it into my bag.

"It was in the backseat." It must've fallen out last night, when I tossed my bag into the car. "You're welcome and free to waltz inside your palace, my Queen."

I faked a laugh. Standing here with him was awkward. I ran out of his car the minute he pulled over to avoid this situation. Well, so much for carefully laid plans. Just give him the cold shoulder, do a hair toss and walk away, Valerie. Oh, how I wish my heart would let my brain function like every other day. But Finn Matthews was wrecking my thought process.

"You look like you're about to puke."

"Wh-what?" I stammered, horrified. "Saying that of a lady is… it's so vulgar. Don't you have a pint of decency, Matthews?"

Finn's response got cut short when a woman—shorter than me—walked up the steps we were loitering on. God—if he existed—really hated me. Why else would Simone show up now? Fresh from some grocery shopping? She wasn't carrying the bags, three other maids were, and they went on ahead. I knew my doorman held the door open for them.

"Miss Valerie, how wonderful that you're home. I wanted to ask what you would like to have for dinner. Your father and Maria will be eating out." Of course, they would. Don't sound bitter, be happy. I was. Simone's eyes jumped from me to Finn. He was standing there, probably thinking he had the worst timing possible when it came to meeting people I was close to. "Is this young man Ava's boyfriend?"

Simone knew fully well Ava was dating Thomas Harrington. And she was acutely aware what Thomas looked like, thanks to: magazine photographs and the scandal about his mother shooting him. Simone was playing coy. Good Lord, she was worse than Ms. Coleman.

"No, Simone. This is Finn, he's a friend of Thomas." I answered sweetly. Simone read my feline eyes clear as night: I know what you're doing, don't. "We all went out for lunch and Finn offered to give me a lift."

"Is that right? Ah! What a lovely boy you are, Finn. I'm happy Valerie keeps such good company."

Finn shifted his weight, leveling our heights by descending a stair.

"Thank you, ma'am." I could tell he was keeping himself from stammering under her crinkling eyes.

Simone waved at him, "Please. Call me Simone or I'll feel like a grandmother." Finn nodded, much like he did when he met my father and Maria. "Would you like to come up for some cake? I baked it this morning."

Finn rubbed his chest, "Ah, I'm not really hun…"

"Finn was just going—"

We both started making up quick excuses. Only to be thwarted by Simone's dismayed expression…

"Come on, Finn. Miss Valerie never brings friends home."

"I brought Ava…" I whispered, feeling my shoulders slump to the floor. Simone was worse than Dad.

"You drove through horrible traffic to get miss Valerie home, the least I can do is treat you to something sweet." Ladies and gentlemen: Simone, the Witch of Hansel and Gretel. She was literally drawing Finn to our home by promising fattening sweets. Cake. Whatever.

Finn opened his mouth, but I knocked his shoulder, hissing, "For God's sake! Just say you'll come up or she'll never stop."

Finn spent a good seven seconds looking stunned—at me. Then his head turned to Simone, his lips stretching into a defeated smile. She nodded with satisfaction, like a cat licking the blood off her paws after a kill. She marched ahead, expecting us to follow her. Part of me wanted to apologize to Finn, another part, wanted to hyperventilate and run the other way. He was going to be in my house. Sweet baby Jesus. How had we come to this? I didn't pay attention to the doorman's glance, I don't remember reaching or entering the elevator. Simone punched in the key code to my duplex, I just stood in an elevator corner, petrified. Finn was stiff beside me, not looking much better. Ha, I wanted to yell, who was about to puke now?

This whole affair was becoming ridiculous. A date-that-wasn't-a-date had turned into the longest non-date in the history of non-dates. The elevator doors slid open. Simone stepped out and I cleared my throat, nudging Finn with an elbow. He followed me. Grey eyes instantly slid across every painting, surface, carpet and whatnot. Feeling self-conscious, I reached for his arm, tugging him to the couches.

"I'll bring you both some delicious lemon cake. Valerie's favorite. Would you like something to drink, Finn?"

"Whatever your bringing Valerie?" it sounded like a question and it made me chuckle. Finn slipped me a frown. It was a very confused, very cute, frown.

"Very well. I'll bring two glasses of cranberry juice." Simone hightailed for the kitchen, stranding us in the white-on-white living room.

Finn looked at me in disbelief, "How… did we get here?" We sat on opposite couches, facing each other.

"I have absolutely no idea." We sat there, dumbfounded. "I guess it's a good thing I didn't ask for desert."

"Yeah. That fillet thing really fills you up."

I smiled, "Do you even like lemon cake and cranberry juice?"

Finn shrugged.

"Sure. I'm not picky." He was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward. It didn't look comfortable.

"You can relax, Finn. No one's going to jump you."

"No, it's…" he took another quick looksie around us. "Everything is white. I don't want to stain it or something."

I leaned back, relaxing my stance hoping he would mimic me.

"Jackson doesn't worry about that. He puts his feet up on the coffee table when he's watching TV. Stop being silly." Finn leaned back bit by bit. When his back was against the couch, I grinned. "Was that so hard?"

Finn sent a bashful glare. My grin widened. True to her word, Simone brought two plates with heavenly sized slices of lemon cake. The crusty surface looked delish. Another maid set down our cups with freshly made cranberry juice. They left after Simone made sure we didn't want anything else. Before she disappeared, I saw the smug smile she sent me. Finn and I ate slowly, still full from our late lunch, and I explained about Simone being our oldest maid. How she ruled the house with an iron fist…

"I don't think of her like that, though." I stated. "She's more like an aunt. She's been around since I can remember, before my Mom got sick. She's… been with me through it all." It was easy to say, because it was true. "But Simone's not all rainbows and sunshine. She can bend anyone to her will, as you've experienced for yourself."

"Yes, I think the CIA would gain a great asset if they hired her."

"Maybe she's already working for them." Finn choked on a piece of cake. He thumped his chest twice before being able to swallow. "You never know." I snickered, drinking the last of my juice.

"My theory's been confirmed thanks to Simone." My forehead creased. "You do have a heart somewhere in that cold chest of yours."

Finn looked overly pleased with himself. I withheld from kicking his knee. All through lunch, I had wrestled with myself. Torn between following Ms. Coleman's healthy advice about letting go and start over. Or keep the façade. Slowly, I was pushing the Ice Queen out of control and allowing the qualities that made me so much like Mom shine through.

"Do you… want a tour?" I blinked at my forwardness.

"Are you inviting me to see your house? Me, a guy from Brooklyn?" Ouch. I deserved that one.

"I was in your room," I whispered afraid anyone would come out and hear. "It's only fair I show you mine. Since you're here…"

A buzzing and tune sounded across from me. Finn set down his plate and reached into his front pocket, grabbing his cell. He glared at the screen for two seconds before answering gruffly.

"Did you fall off the face of the Earth last night? I called you ten times!" If I were a gambling woman, I'd bet Thomas was the one calling. Finn's features twisted like he'd tasted rotten fish. "Okay, no, Trip. No. I don't want to know what happened after that. What? Huh... yeah. I called you because…" Shit. Finn pinched his nose. "Because Valerie was drunk and she kept saying she… she needed to talk to Ava before I took her home. I don't know, man. She was wasted, drunk people don't make any sense. Yeah…" I crossed my arms firmly, eyeballing him. Finn waved his hand in the air, lifting his shoulders in a helpless gesture. Alright, this excuse was better than the truth. "Yeah, yeah. I managed to take her home after a while. Yes, she was fine. Tell Ava she can stop screaming into your phone, I'm not deaf. Okay… Yeah, go. Bye." Finn dropped his phone between his legs and I kept my eyes from going there. Instead, I watched him rub his face.

"What? They didn't buy it?"

"No—I mean, I think they did. I just remembered that Trip was working at my Dad's shop this morning. Damn, he could've seen us leave. Dad's garage is just around the block from our apartment." He explained.

"I can't believe you're the one worried about us being seen together."

"He'd never let me live it down. After all the times I said I didn't…" I slit my eyes. "Never mind."

"Oh? You can start saying something mean but you can't finish it?" I sneered.

Finn let out a groan.

"I didn't—"

I held up a hand.

"Don't even bother with lying and say it wasn't something mean."

"If you know what I was going to say, then you don't need me to finish."

"Well, maybe I'm a masochist and I'd like to hear it from your mouth."

"Fine!" he hissed, sliding forward. "After all the times I said I didn't like you. That I hated your personality. That I thought you were a stupid, spoiled brat who liked using people as doormats. Is that enough?"

"I don't know," I snapped throwing up my hands. "Is there more?"

"No!" his hiss ended in a sharp yell.

"Good!" I said just as loudly and red in the face. We were both on the edge of our seats, glaring and fuming at each other. I glared at the floor before glancing at Finn, my foot bobbing in the air as anger simmered down. "Do you still want to see my room or are you afraid Thomas will track the GPS on your phone and discover the Ice Queen has dragged you to her evil lair?"

Finn got up heaving in exasperation. I got up just as fast, feeling like if I hadn't, I would've lost some unissued challenge. Since I was wearing flats, I was stuck looking up at him. I didn't like it. My heart protested. I bit the inside of my cheek. Okay, some part of me liked it. A little.

I grabbed my bag and whirled, "Follow me, Matthews, you're good at that."

"Well, as long as I'm good at something…" the sarcasm dripped heavily. I could hear the heavier steps on the marble steps behind me. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Why couldn't I just shoo him out of my house? He'd gotten lunch and cake out of this afternoon. Why was I walking down the hallway, taking him to my bedroom? Better question, why was my heart hammering and why were my palms so sweaty?

Taking a steadying breath, I pushed open my door. Everything was undisturbed, just as I'd left it yesterday, before meeting with Finn. I did the usual: tossed my bag onto the swivel chair. Usually, I would sit on my bed, but Finn was standing in the middle of the room. Taking it all in. His eyes lingered on particular things, though. He walked closer to me and traced the graceful arched lines made of steel on my four-poster bed. The wry grin that spread across his face made him even more handsome.

"I'm a little disappointed. I was expecting a princess bed. You know, the ones with curtains?" I actually poked my tongue out at him. He chuckled to the side—his eyes sparkled then, spotting something interesting. I watched as Finn traced my small record player. "Wow. This—this is really cool. I love retro stuff. I don't know if you saw…"

The distance between us vanished as excitement got the better of me. Faintly, I wondered about the last time I felt genuinely excited over anything so mundane.

"That rotary phone? Yeah, I saw it. It was so awesome!" I squealed with all the hype. "I wanted to ask you about it. Does it work?"

Finn brushed the wavy hair back.

"Yeah, it works. My sister is obsessed with fashion and she loves buying vintage stuff. One day, she went to a little store and found that phone. It was supposed to be a birthday surprise, but April sucks at withholding gifts." With nimble fingers, Finn grabbed a record from Mom's old collection from the lower shelf. He turned it over carefully. "You weren't kidding when you said you were a fan of the classics." His smile dropped as he put the David Bowie album into place. "These were your Mom's?"

"They were," I nodded. "Dad didn't want them. I couldn't bring myself to throw them away or sell them. Music was my Mom's life. She… played the violin. She did recitals. She actually performed in a few Broadway shows."

Those stormy eyes lit with astonishment.

"That's amazing."

I traced the record player with my bronze eyes.

"I think so, too." My throat tightened. Mom's melodies, the ones she composed for me as lullabies, rushed through me. I blinked, hoping to find a distraction from memories about Mom. "See this cabinet? It's all about nail polish."

Finn let loose a laugh. But it wasn't a mean laugh and his eyes were still serene.

"Darn. And here I was starting to think you weren't half as spoiled as I thought."

"Sorry. But people are bound to have some obsessions when they're rich."

"And you picked nail polish?" he scoffed.

"It's as good as anything else. I thought about collecting hats once, but I don't wear them much. They make my hair all… greasy." On cue, strands fell from my messy bun. I tried tucking them behind an ear. No good, they tumbled forward. I was going to pick up my favorite clippers—the ones with flowers—but Finn beat me to it, picking up one.

He squinted, as if studying some complex math problem. "It's cute." he mumbled forking it over.

Bewildered by his words, my fingers missed clinching the clipper and it fell. Finn and I ducked at the same time. Our foreheads smacked and I yelped, stumbling. Finn cursed. Somehow, we ended up on our knees. Finn was slightly slouched forward, face hovering dangerously close to mine. My heart was in my throat—beating way too fast. Beating like… crazy. I saw those grey eyes were soft mercury pools of melted steel. My lips were moving, like I wanted to speak but didn't know how or what to say. Finn's breath hit my loose strands, causing them to tickle my cheeks. All I could think was… I wanted him here. It wasn't like with Jackson—when he barged into my room and took advantage of my weak emotional state. This wasn't…

"Finn, I think…" I began to whisper.

Finn leaned forward and pecked my lips. My trembling lips. It lasted four seconds—the touch of his lips on mine. It was so brief, so ephemeral, and it left my skin tingling. I barely noticed his surprised eyes when I leaned in: pecking him on the lips, just as he'd done. It was so slow. And then it came all at once—too fast for words. Finn's hands came up, framing my face as his lips made a deeper, lasting contact. Still on my knees, I scooted closer, working my mouth in tandem with his. I latched onto his shoulders—those firm shoulders I'd never noticed because of all the baggy clothes. I grabbed them and pulled him closer. Finn's hand explored my hair, causing my bun to come undone. Still, we didn't stop. The sandalwood scent I woke up to intoxicated me. My right hand glided upward, tracing Finn's neck; my fingernails racked across the stubble on his chin and cheek.

Finn tipped me backward. My back met the floor and I spread my legs—fitting him in the middle. He was hovering my body. Just barely. His arms were on either side of my head, holding him up. His nose brushed mine. I moaned softly in the back of my throat. My hands roamed his face before diving into his hair. It was soft, with no hair products present. I hated Jackson's hair gel. I couldn't describe how this felt—except... I didn't want it to end. I could keep kissing him and breathing hot and heavy for as long as I lived.

A strange tremor started against my left hip, then it stopped. A second later it… vibrated again? Finn's mouth wavered close to mine and his winded eyes stared into my own as we listened to the deafening noise coming from Finn's pants.

"It's… it's my phone." He stuttered, voice surprisingly sultry.

"Of—of course it is." I agreed quickly as he scrambled back, getting off me. Finn grappled for the iron embellishing my bed to help himself up. Unsteadily, he fished out his phone just as I hurried to get myself off the floor. I patted my shirt down.

"Yeah?" he cleared his voice, trying to get it back to normal. Finn's dark blond eyebrows scrunched. "Mom, yeah. Saturday? What about Saturday?" there was a pause on our side as confusion fell across Finn's face, before he slapped his forehead. Hard. The slap echoed out. "I didn't forget. I… I was just on my way there. Don't worry, I already ate. Yeah. Sorry, Mom. Yes, I'll warn you next time. Bye." Finn stuffed his phone inside his pocket—again, I resisted letting my eyes wander below the waist. "Huh," he looked around, hands on his hips. Finn licked his lips when I stared stupidly at him. How did one proceed in this type of situation? "So… I have to go. I have a thing—I really can't miss it. I have to go."

"Yeah," I blurted.

Finn scratched the back of his blond head. "I have to get going."

"You already said that."

"Right. I did say that. Huh," Finn cleared his throat for the thousandth time. He crossed his arms, mouth slightly agape—his eyes flickered to my tingly mouth, then he fixed me with an unsure look. "I'll… call you?"

Call me? Because you kissed, a voice enlightened my dumbass-self. I couldn't even say he had kissed me—well, he had, but I'd kissed him back. And now he wanted to call me.

"If you want?" I felt like hitting my head against the floor. "I'll… hum… take you downstairs."

"You don't need to." Finn backed up, bumping a hip on my vanity. I pursed my lips, so I wouldn't laugh.

I watched him stumble outside my bedroom and heard him run down the stairs—probably taking two at a time. I touched my face. It felt hot. My hair was all over the place now, I eased it behind my ears with a grimace. I needed a shower. I shut my door, leaning against it. I glared at the floor—where I'd been lying down a minute ago, kissing Finn Matthews.

This… had been the strangest day in my entire life.