Dressing for the Deception

LAUREN

Three months had passed since I tied the knot with Mason Campbell. Those months were a mix of good days and bad, but I could confidently say I’d managed to soften this tough man.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. He was still as hard as a damn rock.

But I’d made him my friend, something I never thought possible.

Our house was no longer silent. Mason and I both worked, and I’d come home earlier to cook dinner and play with Prince.

The dog was starting to warm up to me, much like his owner. When Mason got home from work, we’d eat dinner and chat about everything.

Sometimes, I’d pull him into my room, and we’d watch a movie together. It had become a sort of tradition for us.

I was happy.

Everything was going smoothly. Even my dad was improving. I’d only visited him five times in three months because work kept me so busy.

It was the first week of December, and Mason was busier than ever. I barely saw him. When he came home late, I’d be asleep, and I just really wanted to spend time with him.

I’d grown so close to him and shared pretty much everything about myself, but he rarely opened up to me. It would take a lot for him to fully trust me.

Tonight, I was wrapping up some work with Prince snoozing on the carpet when he walked in. He looked tired but still managed to look attractive.

His launch was in a month, and he’d been so busy, sleeping less each day.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he replied.

“Do you want dinner?”

“I ate something at the office.” He glanced at the stack of papers in front of me. “Working?”

I closed a file in front of me. “Yeah, but I’m almost done.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “I forgot to mention, we have a charity event tomorrow. We need to be there.”

He must have seen the look on my face because he added, “People will ask questions if I show up alone, Lauren. And I can’t miss it because it’s my foundation. It’s a big event.”

A big event meant all the snobs would be there, the socialites who thought they were superior and only spoke the language of money. I was never going to fit in there.

God only knew what they would say about me. I really didn’t want to go.

“Lauren?”

One look from him took away my will to refuse.

“Okay.”

When I told Beth about Mason’s charity event, she screamed in my ear. She was thrilled because she couldn’t wait to dress me up.

I was capable of doing it myself, but she complained about my lack of fashion sense. Pfft.

Despite my objections, Mason insisted I take his card when we went shopping.

I kept reminding him he didn’t owe me anything and he couldn’t spend so much on me, but he said it was a gift for putting up with him for three months. That was enough for Beth.

We went shopping and bought three dresses for me and one for Beth for helping out, then went to the salon to get my hair done. By the time we got back, we still had four hours until the event.

Beth did my makeup before she got an important call, stepping out to let me change.

I didn’t know which dress I was going to wear, so I laid out the three dresses on the bed, thinking of trying them all.

I tried on the green dress first. It wasn’t really my favorite, but Beth had said it was a beautiful dress. When I put it on, it looked terrible.

I turned around to zip up and screamed in surprise, seeing Mason leaning against the wall, watching me.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

“That doesn’t look good on you,” he said, looking me up and down. “I hope you have another option.”

I sighed and glared at him, taking the blue dress before heading to the bathroom to change into it. When I walked out three minutes later, I silently awaited his reaction.

“I think not,” he drawled.

“Either you’re terrible at shopping or you picked it in the dark. I can confidently say I’m more talented than you in this area.” He snorted. “And I don’t even shop for women’s clothes.”

My lips pressed together tightly, I thrust the blue dress his way and grabbed the last one from the bed. This had to be the dress, or I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

Not a second after I walked out in it, he dismissed the choice as too girly. My annoyance began to stir.

He walked deeper into my room and grabbed Beth’s shopping bag, pulling out her silver dress and tossing it into my arms.

“That’s Beth’s,” I said, throwing it back at him. I was not going to wear Beth’s dress. Our tastes were slightly different. It was made for her, not me.

Mason didn’t understand that women didn’t choose their dresses, the dresses chose the women.

He threw it right back.

“Doesn’t matter. Go try it on.”

“No.”

A devilish brow rose. “That’s all right. I can do it myself. I have two working hands.”

“You wouldn’t!”

He arched his brows as if to say, “Want to test me?”

I groaned and stalked off to change into Beth’s dress. She would be pissed if she found me in it. She had been ecstatic when she first saw it.

I emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. He didn’t have to tell me that I looked amazing because I did. Silver was such a good color on me, I’d known that for years.

But the bedroom was empty when I walked out. I scratched my head, wondering if I’d imagined seeing him in my room, or if he’d actually been there. Where was he?

I stared at myself in the mirror. The dress was made of tulle and rhinestones.

The neckline formed a deep low V both front and back, and a slit in the front, showing off my long right leg.

I was a bit heavier than Beth, so it hugged my body tightly. My hair was already straightened, and I tucked it behind my ears, not a strand of hair out of place, and let it fall down my back.

I finished getting ready, grabbed my purse, and left my room. As I made my way down the stairs, Mason walked in. Our eyes met and I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. He looked me over, his gaze traveling from my head to my toes and back again. His scrutiny was so intense, I started to worry that I didn’t look good. I’d have a meltdown if he criticized my appearance.

His eyes finally settled on my face, holding my gaze for what felt like forever. I lost track of time, my senses overwhelmed by his presence. My mouth was dry, my vision narrowed, and every nerve in my body was on high alert.

And Mason…damn, he looked good. I’d seen him in suits before, but never in a tux. He looked sharp, like a billion-dollar man—which he was. He was so attractive, I knew he’d be the center of attention tonight.

I didn’t realize I’d sighed out loud until he walked over to me and offered his arm. “You’ll do,” he said.

I snorted and took his arm. “Sure I shouldn’t turn around and let you get a better look?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from my words.

He smirked. “I think you’re fine.”

The Royal Rosewood was lit up, inside and out. I watched as a line of cars slowly moved forward, dropping off guests. Our car was next in line. As we got closer, I started to panic.

I’ll be fine.

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Our car stopped and a wave of anxiety washed over me. Mason got out of the car first, then I followed. The flashes from the cameras were blinding.

I felt like I was going to faint, but then Mason was there, taking my hand. “Smile and relax,” he whispered in my ear. To anyone watching, it would look like he was kissing my cheek.

“Yeah, like that’s going to help,” I whispered back. He chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Remind me never to ask you for a pep talk.”

He smiled, clearly amused. “Are we going in, or are you planning to stand here all night?”

I sighed in response and he helped me walk down the red carpet. The camera flashes weren’t as bad this time because I wasn’t looking directly at them. I could hear the paparazzi shouting our names, asking us to stop for pictures and interviews, but we ignored them.

Soon, we were standing in front of the wide doors. Another wave of anxiety hit me, but Mason squeezed my hand and led me into the ballroom.

The air was filled with the scent of perfume, cologne, and flowers. Laughter and voices echoed around the room. I felt a wave of panic at the sight of all the elegantly dressed people. I started to shake, both inside and out.

For the first time, I realized what I was about to do: pretend to be a loving wife and convince these people that we were deeply in love.

Great.

I scanned the crowd, but didn’t recognize anyone. I found myself pressing closer to Mason, seeking some sort of protection. I knew I was being ridiculous, but these people weren’t my people.

They were predators, ready to pounce. If you weren’t careful, you’d get caught in their trap. And once you were caught, they’d play with you before going in for the kill.

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Mason asked, tucking my hand into his elbow. “Smile, love,” he said quietly.

“Easy for you to say. I feel like a mouse in a trap. I’m really uneasy.”

“You’ll be fine, Lauren.” He started to move forward, his determination keeping me on my feet.

We were introduced to so many people, I lost track. I realized how much respect Mason commanded, how much these people admired him. It was strange to see people who were older and wiser than him looking up to him.

I’d always known Mason was powerful, but seeing it first hand was overwhelming. These people had shaped him into the man he was. When you have too much power, you start to think you’re a god.

And Mason thought he was a god.

I was getting tired of the introductions and started to feel dizzy. If Beth could see me now, she’d be in tears, wondering why I was acting so unlike myself.

A man about my dad’s age clapped Mason on the back. “Mason, I don’t believe you’ve introduced me to your wife. I was quite hurt when I didn’t get an invitation. She’s quite a beauty.”

Mason’s smile was cool. “Love, this is Jameson Thomas, one of my oldest clients, and his wife, Rosemary. And this is my wife, Lauren.”

I nodded in greeting, smiling at the couple. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the wedding, but I’ll make sure to invite you to dinner sometime.”

Jameson nodded, his smile charming. He looked at Mason and joked, “How did you get so lucky? I always thought you’d die alone, Campbell.”

I laughed, but they didn’t know the real reason. “He still might,” I muttered under my breath. Mason must have heard me because he shot me a glare. I just smiled sweetly at him.

“Can I borrow your husband for a minute, Lauren? Rosemary will keep you company.”

I shot a frantic glance at Mason, who was already walking away with Jameson. I turned to Rosemary, feeling like a fish out of water.

~What do I say to her?~

~What do we even have in common?~

I prayed I wouldn’t say anything too embarrassing.

“Come, dear,” Rosemary said, leading us to a table. It wasn’t empty, but the three women already there were too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice us.

From our spot, I could see Mason talking with a group of six men. His posture was rigid, and he kept waving away waiters offering him drinks. Every so often, he’d scan the room, his gaze always landing on me.

The butterflies in my stomach were as strong as ever.

When I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his eyes on me, as if he was undressing me with his gaze. I hated the intensity of his scrutiny. It felt cold, dangerous.

He stood out among the group of men, his presence commanding. Sometimes, he’d just stand there silently, watching everything with a bored expression.

He looked really good in his tux. His shoulders seemed broader, his body straining against the fabric of his clothes. It was no surprise that all the women kept stealing glances at him.

I couldn’t blame them.

Before long, I heard Rosemary’s voice again.

“You two make a fine couple. I hope it lasts. Not a lot of marriages do these days, dear,” she said, taking a sip from her glass. “People either fall out of love or someone has an affair.”

She placed her other hand on mine. “I hope you trust each other. Trust is the most important part of a marriage.”

“We do,” I assured her, my voice flat. “And I don’t think I have to worry about any other woman.”

~Because we’re not in love.~

~Because our marriage is a sham.~

Our vows meant nothing.

“Of course not, dear. He only has eyes for you,” she said, glancing at Mason and chuckling as if she’d noticed our silent exchanges.

I blushed for no reason.

For a moment, I was at a loss for words. How was I supposed to respond to that?

“Do you plan to have children?” she asked.

I choked on my spit and gave her a startled look.

“Um…I…” I stammered, unsure of what to say. Maybe honesty was the best policy.

“Mason and I haven’t discussed it,” I said. The truth. A safe truth.

Rosemary nodded in understanding.

“James and I don’t really like kids, so we never planned to have any. We’re lucky we found each other. I can tell you want to have kids someday. Does Mason want them?”

Firstly, if I were to have kids, it wouldn’t be with him.

Secondly, I wasn’t sure if having kids was part of Mason’s life plan.

He wasn’t the type of man who’d want his life upended by little versions of himself running around. He barely knew how to control his own temper, and kids were a handful.

Mason and kids didn’t belong in the same sentence.

But I didn’t tell her that.

“Who wouldn’t want kids?” I said, forcing a laugh.

“Definitely not the man you’re married to,” a woman’s voice said from behind us.

Rosemary and I turned to see the women who’d been talking earlier. They were now interested in our conversation.

The woman who’d spoken was studying me. She looked like she belonged on the cover of ~Vogue~. They all did.

They were beautiful and sophisticated. I was no match for them, not that I cared. But I was curious about why she thought she could make that comment.

As if she knew something I didn’t.

“And what do you mean by that?” I asked, even though I knew her words were true. But I wasn’t about to let her know that. For all I knew, she was just guessing.

She looked ready for a fight.

She brushed her dark hair out of her face, revealing sharp cheekbones.

Her eyelashes were long, her blue eyes bright.

“I know him,” she said, her tone firm.

~Yeah, right!~

“You know him because you’ve seen him around, or you know him because you’ve worked for him or read about him in the papers?”

If I didn’t know Mason hated women, I would have thought this woman was his ex-girlfriend.

She was acting like an ex, boasting about him to make the wife feel threatened.

“No, silly. I know him because I’m friends with his sister. We all are,” she said, her friends nodding in agreement.

“So?”

She looked annoyed by my response.

“So I know the kind of man he is, and he doesn’t seem like the fatherly type.”

“Oh, and because you’re friends with his sister you think you know him?” I snapped, defending him.

“I know him enough to know he wouldn’t give ~you~ a second glance. Or a first one.”

“Don’t make assumptions from afar. Unless he has a tattoo on his forehead that tells you everything about him, keep your mouth shut.”

She glared at me.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” she asked, her voice full of venom.

Her tone was so haughty, it made my blood boil. She needed to be taken down a peg, and I was more than ready to do it.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I turned away, leaving her with a parting shot. “Unless you sign my paycheck, I don’t care who you are, lady.”

“You may not care now, but you will.”

She wasn’t about to let me have the last word.

What really twisted my insides, though, was the way she spoke—like she was hiding something. That familiar discomfort I’d felt before was back, gnawing at me and settling in.

I spun around, ready to ask her what she meant. Her words had me spooked, and it had nothing to do with Mason. But she was already up and leaving the table.

Her words kept replaying in my mind, and the way she’d sounded—almost gleeful. But not in a good way. It was the kind of glee that made me want to find a corner and curl up in it.

And something deep down told me that this night wasn’t going to end well for me.