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“Tempting. Not wearing a mask would certainly help my case against taking over. I can’t say my father or his associates would want someone being thrown around by a woman taking over the helm.”

“Hey!”

“Killer, I think you’re a fucking powerhouse, and the fact that you can take me down does nothing to shatter my ego—clearly.” He adjusts himself through his sweats, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Nothing could shatter your ego,” I tease, cupping his dick through the soft fabric. “But you were saying?”

“Fuck, Olivia.” His eyes roll back as his chin tips upward.

“You were saying?” I repeat.

“I was saying that although the patriarchy is alive and well for those gremlins, the fact that you can tackle me to the ground bears no problem for me, given that you make me rock hard while doing it.”

My lips tip upward as I take him in. He’s been insatiable, but then again, so have I. I can’t keep my hands off him. Which might explain why this intro scene has taken half a day instead of half an hour.

“So, is that a yes or a no to the mask?”

“I’ll keep it. I don’t want to put you in danger, my love.”

My love. Be still my beating heart.

“Besides”—he hesitates for a second—“I have a feeling my father is well aware of what I’m up to. If he knows about the mask, he’ll really think I’m not suitable for the role.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re giving me some boogeyman vibes. He might go for it,” I tease.

He lightly pinches my nose, making a honk noise while he’s at it.

Rolling over so he’s on his back and staring at the sky, he takes a few breaths, and I run my hand over his chest until he clasps it in his hand, bringing my knuckles up to his lips.

We’re still for a few minutes until Austin stands, pulling me up by my wrist so easily that I brace myself against his chest.

“Where did that mask fly off to?” he mutters as if he didn’t launch it away himself. I shield my eyes from the sun, as Austin heads over a small grassy mound. Once he’s located it, he pulls it back over his face and gives me a thumbs-up. How this man was ever an enforcer I have no idea; he’s such a goof.

The next few weeks pass in the same way. Austin is disarmingly charming on camera. His contribution to my work is sincere and never mocking. He favors the Ghostfacemask, but others make appearances too: Leatherface, Bane, Darth Vader...always the villain. I wonder if these masks are truly how he sees himself.

The videos I’ve edited and posted are received well, incredibly well. The comments are craving more and more of the “Masked Man” as he’s been dubbed. Comments are curious; some speculate as to whether he’s my boyfriend or just a camera-shy self-defense instructor I’ve hired. The buzz surrounding our videos has filled me with a sense of pride, and Austin is asking me daily for updates on views and comments. We go through them together. He jots down notes when he thinks I’m not looking. He seems...invested. Like this is as much his as it is mine.

I offer to give him a share of the money our videos bring in, but he laughs and says no. He is just a participant; I amthe brainsbehind the operation.

On days we aren’t creating videos, he works. He discusses upcoming experiments and the plants that are growing well. Before the basement, I thought he was a two-brain-celled thug, no better than a monkey with a handgun. But in reality, he’s so smart. He tells me all about pH levels and soil acidity. That using certain soil for one plant won’t work for another. It’s fascinating work, and you can tell he’s this encyclopedia of knowledge. The fact that it’s legal and Danny won’t be in danger has removed any uncertainty I once had about him. He’ll look after Danny. It’s a promise he’s made and one I trust him to keep.

The days vary, but the nights are routine. We cook together, play games, stream something, and when we’ve teased each other enough with gentle caresses, one of us drags the other to bed. He hasn’t been down to the basement in weeks; it’s almost like a crazy, long-forgotten dream. Like an old movie in black and white, the memories of it are soft and dreamlike.

We’re lounging on the couch in my living room. I’m watching him unapologetically as his brows scrunch andrelax, scrunch and relax.

“Austin?”

“Yeah, baby,” he mumbles, eyes scanning the pages of the latest novel he’s reading. I haven’t read this one; he’s bought it himself. His brow furrows as he turns a page.

“We’ve been, umm, spending time together for a few weeks now.”

“More like a month, Killer. I count the basement.” He winks, turning his book over and focusing on me.

I smile, looking down at my lap. He makes this so easy, but a small part of me doubts he’d want to be official. In our public life, he hides his face, and when we do go out, it’s mostly to smaller, local restaurants, not anywhere he would be recognized.

“So...I guess what I want to ask is...You know, what are we? Together, you know, like, what are we doing?” I hesitate, swallowing the lump that’s formed in my throat. This man has seen me naked and had me in every position imaginable. Why is it so hard to ask what we are?

“Olivia?”