Page 135 of Scorned Beauty

I thought about those pictures briefly over the past few weeks, but it was a blessing they burned down with the rest of my things the day Al was supposed to deliver them. “You sent me one every year for four years, but then you stopped. Why?”

“Because you’re not worth my time anymore,” she snapped.

“No, that’s the time Tomlin got elected to office,” Lucy said.

“You’re afraid to leave a trail of your husband’s past harassment.”

She stepped forward. “You seduced him.”

“If that’s your take on your husband grooming a minor, then you’re as despicable as he is.”

“You had notions in your head that you could be the next Mrs. Tomlin. He’s a respected United States congressman and you? You’re simply a nurse. Poor Imogen couldn’t even ask the right questions.”

“You set her up at dinner, didn’t you?” Lucy asked. So I guessed Imogen was wearing the red mask.

“Fred forbade me to go near either of you.”

“And why are you here?”

“Because despite what happens tonight, this isn’t over.” She directed her contemptuous gaze up and down my dress. “Enjoy, Cinderella. This won’t have a happily ever after. If Dominic De Lucci doesn’t see you for the trash you are, he will soon.”

Vivienne Tomlin swept out of the room in a cloying smell of heavy vanilla and rose.

We gave her a few seconds head start before Lucy tugged my arm to leave the ladies’ room. “Come on.”

I was suddenly over this gala anyway, and if Vivienne and Imogen-the-red-mask were the type of people in Dom’s circle, then I’d rather stay at home watching my serial killer TV.

I wasn’t the only one who had to make adjustments in this relationship.

I was busy spiraling in my thoughts, so I didn’t notice Lucy stop. I bumped into her. But then I saw what caused her to halt so abruptly.

Frederick Tomlin. I knew him as Mr. Tomlin then, not Congressman Tomlin.

He wasn’t wearing his mask. Though the years had been kinder to his tanned all-American face, his blond head was almost white. Once upon a time, he exuded the golden-boy allure of the Great Gatsby era.

I berated my sixteen-year-old self for not seeing the man he was. A predator. He’d been grooming me. My mother recognized him for who he was and it frightened her.

“Sloanie, sweetheart,” he breathed. The lust in his eyes made my skin crawl. “I always knew you’d become this beautiful woman.” His gaze hardened when they fell on Lucy, then flew back to me. “What’s this? Did you two conspire to take me down?”

“You did that to yourself, Congressman Tomlin,” Lucy shot back.

“You never changed, did you?” I said. “You still prey on children.”

His lips curled, and coupled with the sickening gleam in his eyes, his handsome features transformed into the revolting face of a monster. The masquerade was over and he’d shed the mask he’d been hiding from the public.

“Fred,” Vivienne gasped, running toward him as fast as her gown would allow. “They published it. We’re ruined.”

“What are you doing here?” he snapped at his wife. “I told you to return to the table.”

“And what? Face humiliation?”

“Then leave. I need a word with Sloanie girl.”

“Sloanie?” Vivienne screeched. “You’re not replacing me with trash!”

“The only trash is you,” a voice spoke from the shadows.

“Dom?” I whispered.