Unmasked

Valerie's POV

By miracle, Matthews dropped me off alive and breathing. I would've given him a thank-you if my douche-canoe of a step-brother hadn't been outside our building. Finn let loose a curse as I smacked the car's door, stalking over to Freeman, the doorman.

He was dressed in a gray-red outfit, complete with a little hat he tipped at me. I smiled a short lived smile, as six-feet tall of dark brown hair snatched my arm—tugging me.

No one touched me this way.

"Let go. Right now." I warned, lifting a manicured nail his way, staring deadly ahead into hazel eyes.

"Or you'll tell on me?" Jackson bit with snark. I rolled my eyes. "Who's the guy in the Chevy?"

Throwing a fast look over a shoulder, I saw the red Chevrolet still there, purring. What was outcast-boy waiting for?

"Just a friend of a friend."

"You let a friend of a friend drop you off? How... unlike you." Well, it'd been either that, or him picking me up. "I swung by your school and you were long gone."

I feigned a treadmill of sorriness, "Aw, you did? Maybe you should get the memo and understand that I don't want you taking me to school, or picking me up. I can drive myself." A corner of his lips turned down—slightly, not everyone would notice—Freeman stole a fleeting glance our way, and I could still hear Finn's car. This wouldn't turn into a broad-day-light scandal—not happening. "Let me through."

I liked to think his fingers slipped off, one by one, because of my there-will-be-hell-to-pay tone. Finally, I walked on, Freeman pushing the door for me. He had more gentleman-bones than Jackson would ever have. Maria would have a stroke if she knew the truth about her son's manners.

I crossed the lobby with long paces, fast too, trying to rid myself of a following shadow. It was proving pretty impossible, he even smacked the elevator button before I did.

Jackson spun, leaning on the beige stonewall.

"Weren't you outside?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "But the reason why I was outside has arrived." He smiled, and about five months back, it would've been the most charming, heart wrenching smile I'd ever seen. "Someone looks glum, why?"

Why? He shouldn't be asking that. He knew why.

I shifted my weight onto my right leg, the heaviness of my bag rested on my hip. Jackson tilted a hand, touching a strand, curling it around his finger.

"If you keep touching me I swear there will be consequences."

"That right?" He drawled lazily. Leaning his fuller bottom lip to an ear, he whispered, "Good or bad? I kinda like the idea of both."

The insides of my tummy turned, like I'd thrown them into a washer.

Hold down the fort, I told myself. I'd been doing too well to throw it away.

My hair uncurled from his finger and I felt Jackson's skin on mine, traveling down my cheek. I sucked a breath.

Ping.

An elevator where my whole art class could easily fit, opened, saving me from stupid temptations. Too bad he followed me in. This time, I smacked the button. We went up. I was the closest possible to the doors, waiting for the tenth floor.

Praying for it.

"You're making my life hell, babe, you know that?" Jackson swiped hair aside, but the brown, straight strands fell right back to his forehead. "It's been months since it happened—I said I was sorry."

My lips pursed.

"It's not a matter of saying you're sorry," I began, sending him a Queen Bee glare. "It shouldn't have happened in the first place, I've told you this before. And even if it hadn't happened, we still would be like this—"

"What? Because we live in the same house—because we're brother and sister on paper? That's stupid, Valerie. We'd been dating before they got married—"

Feeling a building headache, I shook my head. How many times had we had this conversation? Too many to keep track.

"Look," I said honestly, knowing we were one floor away from ours. "We happened, we ended—because of your mistake, because of our parents marriage—it doesn't matter! I only have a piece of advice: move on."

With zing in my step, I strolled past the double doors and inside our apartment. Didn't take to figure out who was home and who wasn't. Maria was a renown decorator, when she wasn't at her atelier engaging in meetings or picking expensive, yet beautiful furniture for other rich people's houses, she was home reading a magazine on the latest fashions. Passing the white-on-white living room, I saw no one was sitting there.

And Dad... Well, this week he had to go on a business trip. He came back in two days.

"Let's have lunch together." What. A. Pain.

"Has anyone ever told you, you're like a lost puppy?"

"You saying I'm adorable?"

"No, kittens are adorable. Puppies are needy bastards who just can't take 'no' for an answer." Walking into the pristine kitchen, I saw Simone—our oldest maid—chewing some new guy's ear off because he still hadn't cleaned Maria's upstairs office. "Please tell me lunch's ready," I braced my hands on the kitchen's island. "I want to eat it in my room" Where I could lock an annoying ass outside.

Bristling-Simone turned my way and a quick smile flashed across her face.

"Lunch will be done in a few, but you can go on up to your room, Miss Valerie, I'll bring it to you." Then her sharp eyes moved to Jackson, I swear he stepped back. "What about you mister Jackson?"

"I'll have lunch in the dinning room." He muttered, always put off with Simone's guard-dog attacks.

Smiling kindly, I thanked her before all but running up the marble-like steps, rushing to lock my bedroom door. Safe. Pushing from the door, I tossed my bag onto the purple swivel chair. I marched on over to my window.

Jackson was such a royal pain. To think I actually dated him! But... I leaned my forehead on the cool glass. But he'd been the first boy I'd fallen for. I touched my right cheek, biting a lip. Life worked in strange ways.

I broke up with Jackson and two months later, my Father announced he and Maria had been seeing each other and were planning a marriage. Talk about being pushed between a rock and a hard place.

Knock. Knock.

"Coming," I called, stopping by my dresser, picking up a pair of flowered-clippers to pin my hair. Jackson never liked these, said they made me childish. "Hmm, smells good." My eyes followed Simone and the tray of her famous chicken sates with peanut dipping sauce.

She lowered the silver tray onto my white, wooden desk. Simone poured a glass of cranberry juice, my personal fav, and left.

I ate, while watching an episode of Ghost Hunters. It was a silly guilty pleasure no one at school knew about, not even Ava. To Brenda, this little fact would be like a yummy, non-fat burger. Thank God, I knew how to keep my mouth closed. Not like Kelly, who'd made the mistake of sharing the loss of her virginity with Brenda. Christian hadn't minded. We'd been sophomores back then, his rep had skyrocketed.

As the investigators went further into the theater, my mind wandered off.

Jackson hadn't been a sweetheart, but he'd never been violent, either. Not before I made the decision to break up. Before that, I'd been in love with him. The kind that made you happy one minute, angry the next.

But I found out Dad and Maria were serious about each other, so, I knew what needed to be done and did it. I wouldn't deny my Father the opportunity of happiness, not after everything he'd gone through with Mom.

Jackson hadn't reacted well. He'd made a He-man speech before striking me, right across the cheek.

I might be lots of things, but loving someone who hit me? Nope. Dad and Maria never knew about us, little alone that Jack slapped me. Unfortunately, things got a lot harder when our parents got hitched. Jackson kept trying to redeem himself and convincing me that we should get back together.

That's why he insisted on driving me everywhere, in his head, I was still head over heels for his ass. Maria saw it as him being a good step-brother.

Simone came to pick up the tray. I half expected Jackson to bust in the second I cracked open the door.

"Where's that meddlesome excuse for a step-brother?" I opened my nail polish cabinet. It was four shelves piled with all the color variants an artist could crave. It was right across from my record player. I was old school.

Placing the plate and empty cup on the silver platter, she huffed.

"Ate in five minutes and left. I think he had some College class to go to."

"Good riddance." My finger drifted slowly over each bottle. What color should I pick? I'd gone with green lastly. "Is Maria coming home for dinner?"

"I don't know yet, Miss Valerie."

I stopped playing questionnaire and let Simone get to her job. I settled on my bed, cross-legged, painting my nails in a red maroon color. Just when I was done with the first hand, my cell went off.

Managing to pick up, I recognized the boutique's name. One of the many high fashion places I usually shopped in.

"Hello? Yes, this is her." I listened as the annoyingly manager told me the dress I'd ordered two weeks or so was arriving tomorrow. "Alright, thank you. I'll be there to try it, yes. Goodbye."

So the prom dress was here. Just one week away from the magnifique event, too. Now all I needed was a date and everything would be wonderful. Gabriel had asked me several times, though we'd been months away, but I kept saying no. He was a sexy guy with a dose of money on the side, but not the type I went for. Honestly, I didn't know my type.

I finished my pinkie nail. Done. It was flawless as ever.

Jackson was out of the question. I'd rather go stag. I heaved a laugh. Right. Alone was a no-no in my world, at least until graduation day. I had this insane idea that once in College I could create another image of Valerie Monet. Someone less popular, a person who could have some time off and think about nothing. Someone with no responsibilities.

Someone who could be happy.

For now, those were all dreams.

I grabbed my phone awkwardly, intent on not damaging any of my precious nails, and scrolled through my contact list. There were so many guys to choose from. None I actually liked. Well, Sebastian Hughes was a possibility. He put 'charm' in charming and had the most unbelievable smile. He went to Saint Claire's, a few blocks away from our school.

Without furthering my search, I texted him with a coffee invitation. His reply was unsurprisingly a yes with a smiley face. Smiling, I leaned back, waiting for the polish to dry. This was how a Queen handled things, She didn't wait out, she set her eyes on something and got it.

If only dealing with Jackson was so easy.