Page 3 of Unmasking You (Hidden Hearts #1)

Chapter 2

Shane

I tap my fingers on the table, bored by the conversation going on around me.

I hate these meetings where everyone has to talk about their achievements in their departments, and they end up repeating the same thing over and over again as if their boasting would make my father change his mind.

His motto is “make it do,” which means to have it done without complaining. And there are a lot of complaints today.

I glance at him, and I’m met with a scolding face and eyes that move from my face to my hand in silent disapproval, telling me what I shouldn’t be doing but I am.

When I stop tapping, he looks away, and I relax against the chair. When my father is in this happy mood —as if he’s ever happy when I’m involved—leave it to me to find ways of failing to reach his minimum standards.

When he’s frustrated, like he is today, he can tell me off in front of everyone with no problem.

What I learnt from a young age is that our name, Campbell, is more important than anything. More important than values, than family… and me. Especially me. The failure, the troublemaker, the outsider.

When I was forced to work for my father’s company, I learnt early enough that when other people are around or when I’m at work, I’m no longer his son. I’m less than everyone else. I’m the one who always has to prove himself. But I have to act better than them because the reality is I am his son.

As if I ever was his son, even when away from the spotlight. He tolerates me because I’m an extension of my mother, and strangely enough, he loves her. Probably because she’s just like him, with more manners and a love for controlling everyone and everything, so my dad can live happily ever after.

I’m at that point in life where I’m not overly bothered by what he says or does, but I’m still under his thumb because he’s the one who decides how he distributes his money, which I need for my LGBTQ+ foundation.

My dad hates the foundation, but revels in the praise he receives from others for helping people in need. That is until we’re behind closed doors, where he reminds me about how I always fail.

I’ve stopped caring about what my father thinks of me. I just stay for what I can get out of him and to help people who can’t help themselves.

And here we are, with my mind full of thoughts of the one person I should forget… Jamie Wilson . A man now, and a fine one, but ten years ago he was the boy I betrayed.

Why does everything I do these days bring me back to him ?

I don’t want to remember. Not here. Not now.

But my brain has other ideas. What a surprise he had been the night of the party. I should have recognised those eyes, that pull I felt, the way we bantered, and the need to taste him. I should have known it was him. It was the same when I met him for the first time ten years ago.

A piercing pain inside my chest reminds me of what happened before, and I don’t mean when he shoved me away, pushing until I was on the ground, leaning in and screaming his name so close to my face I felt his breath washing over me. I meant when we were sixteen and we thought the world was somehow a good place, when we had some innocence left in us and we thought nothing could come between us.

How fucking wrong I was.

My life is a pile-up of regrets, and Jamie Wilson is the biggest of them all.

“Shane.” My dad’s impatient tone brings me back to the room, those spiteful eyes on me once again.

I smile, even though I know I’ll regret it, but right now I’m regretting even more what I did a long time ago because of him—and because of the name I inherited when I was born.

“Sorry, Mr Campbell,” I say to him, and I cringe like I always do at the ridiculous demand that I address him like that. I’ll never get used to it.

“Your department.”

“Yes sir.” Then I spend the next fifteen minutes sharing about my department, the challenges we’d faced and those we might face in the future. I share even more about my colleagues’ achievements and enjoy my father’s lips getting thinner and thinner the more I share about how proud I am of my team. He disagrees, of course, because I can’t do anything well and neither can my team. I ignore him and continue.

“The foundation…”

“Your fifteen minutes are up.”

I open my mouth to protest, knowing it will piss him off more.

“They’re finished. Tim, you’re up.”

Tim looks at me as if to say sorry, but we both know he’s taking the floor.

I lean back in my chair and resume tapping the table with my fingers, this time in frustration and regret, because I knew what I was doing and the consequences that would come with it, yet I did it anyway. Jamie Wilson was playing with my head and making me reckless.

I need to stop this behaviour now and think about all those kids counting on me to have a decent life.

Another dirty look has me stopping, and then I pretend to listen to everything and everyone, and my dad seems to relax now that his will has been followed.

I thank all the deities when the last one wraps up, and I jump out of my chair, ready for today to be done so I can be away from the office.

“Shane.”

Fuck! “Yes sir?”

“A word.”

There is never a please; it’s always an order. I don’t miss the pitying glances I receive from the others, but also the relief of it not being them staying behind.

I turn around to face my dad only when the door closes. I can’t stop the inevitable, but at least I can delay it.

I watch my father walk toward his desk and take a seat, and now more than ever I understand how much I’ve fucked up. The last time he did the same thing, it took me years to go back home.

“Do we have a problem?”

“No sir.”

“Then next time, don’t embarrass me or the company with less than professional behaviour. You seem to forget that we need to set an example for others to follow.”

“Yes sir.” Maybe it’s not as bad as I thought.

“When you do not follow the example, you make me look like a joke.”

“Yes sir.”

When he continues with his monologue, I switch off, until he mentions the Proud To Be Foundation and my blood freezes. “What?”

“I’ll be taking some of the money away from your little plaything to fund something else,” he says, standing up after glancing at his watch and then walking around his desk until he stops next to me.

He says more, but I don’t hear it. “But you promised, though. You said if I work for you and follow your rules, you’ll give me the money for the organisation.”

“I’m keeping my promise. You still have money, just not as much as before. I need to invest in something that’ll give me a better return than those kids you like so much.”

“Father,” I say, jumping up from the chair to stop him from walking away.

He turns around with a look of utter fury on his face, so I expect nothing good to come out of his mouth. “Stop playing with that foundation and do some actual work. Don’t force me to shut it down.” He looks at me pointedly and I back down.

“Yes sir.”

He leaves the room without looking back, and I stay there until I regain my composure. I can’t let him win, not again. If being an obedient son is going to give me what I want, I’ll do what he asks.

I’m a bundle of nerves by the time I get home, and instead of wasting time eating, I grab a bottle of beer and sit on the sofa. I look around at my functional apartment, at its high-end furniture so fitting for a million-pound apartment in London, but it doesn’t feel like a home, which sours my mood even more. I felt more at home in the dorms than here.

I take a sip of the drink and then place it on the small table in front of me. The view from the window is spectacular, and that’s the only thing I love about this apartment. Well, that and it’s a twenty-minute walk from the office. With the hours I work, I don’t have time to go to the gym, so walking is the only exercise I do during the week. I hit the gym on the weekend because I’m not dead, and I need to get laid sometimes.

That hasn’t happened since Jamie Wilson invaded my life with his wicked sense of humour, beautiful eyes, and that toned body I only had the pleasure of touching once. He won’t allow me a second chance. What we did… what I did… it was fucked up.

I drag my laptop close and fire it up, pulling up an internet window and typing Jamie’s name in the search bar. And… what the actual fuck? My mouth hangs open at the amount of information and all the shots of him that are on the web. He’s beautiful, even more so than the night we met again, probably because I can see his face.

He hasn’t changed much. I scoff at myself and my need to play down the effect his pictures are having on me.

Not changed much is a fat fucking lie.

He still resembles the boy I once knew, but that baby face he used to have… it’s all man now. His hair is a little longer, and those glasses—which he wasn’t wearing at the charity ball—make him look bloody scorching hot. I keep staring until I find myself extending a hand to touch the contour of his face as if he were here with me and not just a bunch of lines of code. That shadow of stubble I can’t avoid imagining pressed against my skin, and his pronounced jaw paired with those luscious lips, make me want to kiss him more.

The poor boy has become one of the most wanted IT geniuses in the entire world.

And now I want to know more about him, but that sort of information isn’t on the web. I want to have dinner with him and listen to him talk about what he’s done since the last time we saw each other.

I thought of him from time to time, even before meeting him again, most of the time with regret. But I never thought he would become this huge celebrity. Maybe what I thought was bad with the eyes of a kid really wasn’t, and Jamie has risen from it and shown everyone what he’s made of.

Now that my curiosity has been tickled, I’ll be making sure to stumble upon him again.

I’m looking forward to our next encounter.

I wave away the nagging visions of the charity ball. The visions where he pulled away and nearly punched me in the face. I’m sure if I apologise, we can put the past behind us and move forward.

Maybe we can rekindle that connection we had when we were kids. Before I was a prick. Before all the problems started.

I’ll do better this time because I’m an adult, and no one will have the power to make me do what they want.