Unmasked
Authors: Natasha Walker
About the Book
Emma Benson was unlikely ever to be your average housewife.
But she never meant any of this to happen …
For temptation is all around her, and now her life has hit a crossroads.
Can she possibly stay married to David, a man who will never understand her boundless erotic desires?
And would he ever forgive her if she told him the truth?
With her marriage teetering on the brink of ruin, she has two options – fight or flight.
Choosing the latter, at least for the time being, she trades Sydney for the burning heat of the Italian coast.
But then a handsome, exotic stranger enters the scene, and Emma must make her decision. Fast.
CONTENTS
AD FOR THE SECRET LIVES OF EMMA: BEGINNINGS
AD FOR THE SECRET LIVES OF EMMA: DISTRACTIONS
Dedicated to the libertines
ONE
From the kitchen at the back of the house where she was preparing for a dinner party, Emma Benson heard people talking and laughing. She wiped her eyes and walked to the hallway and saw shadows in the glass panels on the closed front door. She could hear her husband David’s deep voice. Her first thought was to slip out the back door quickly – she even returned to the kitchen with escape in mind – but pulled herself together with an ‘It will be okay’, while all the while knowing it wouldn’t be. Spying her glass of wine she took it up in her hand.
David’s keys rattled against the lock and she braced herself.
‘Emma?’ he called from the door.
‘I’m in here.’
‘Do we have enough food for one more?’
She couldn’t answer him. She knew who that extra person was. He’d been sitting in his car out front of the house for the last hour waiting for his chance to ruin her life.
There was more noise as David ushered their dinner guests into the lounge room. More laughter. The word ‘champagne’ came to her clearly above the indistinct chatter. She could make out her best friend Sally’s voice and then the lower tones of Sally’s husband, Mark. Emma drank from the glass and then resumed cutting onions, facing away from the hall. Her eyes were stinging and tearful. The champagne was in the fridge beside her. He would come for it soon. She had a minute, maybe less. She knew a crisis was imminent and yet she kept preparing dinner as though it would be served and eaten.
She poured more wine into her glass. That afternoon she had been told that her husband was having an affair with her best friend, the woman who was now in her front room. She had already
decided to do and say nothing. Not that night. She needed time to think. But there was a chance she wouldn’t get time to think.
And she couldn’t stop crying. She wiped her eyes with kitchen towel.
Her lover, Paul, had told her about her husband’s affair and threatened to crash the dinner party after Emma said she wouldn’t leave David. She felt David’s heavy tread as he made his way down the hallway. She noticed there were two sets of footsteps and waited for her husband and her lover, her back turned, tears streaming down her face, knife slowly dicing an onion.
That morning she had woken blissfully ignorant of the truth. Her relationship had shown no signs of trouble. Things with David had been better than ever. They were planning to have a baby.
What did David and Sally’s affair have to do with her? Hadn’t Paul said of their own cheating, ‘The fact is, our relationship has little impact on anyone else’s life. Does David accuse you of not paying him enough attention? Does he feel unloved? No, he doesn’t. He has no right to disturb us.’
But now Paul was asking Emma to react in exactly the way he had insisted David had no right
to. He wanted Emma to end her marriage. Emma wasn’t ready to leave the life she had made with David. Yet with Paul determined to expose them all, she felt she would have little choice.
David reached the kitchen. Emma’s heart was pounding.
‘Look who I found out on the street.’
She turned around.
Emma was so sure Paul would be standing beside David that for the briefest of moments that was who she saw. But it wasn’t Paul, it was a man she couldn’t place at first. She wiped away her tears the best she could and forced a smile.
‘What’s wrong, Em?’ asked David, stepping towards her. She raised her hand to stop him.
‘I’m fine. It’s the onions,’ she said, wiping her eyes again. She found she could not look at him.
David stopped then and turned to his guest. ‘You remember Seb, don’t you?’
Emma didn’t recognise the name and looked at the man blankly for a split second.
‘Sebastian Jones,’ said the friend. ‘We met briefly last year. It wasn’t long after you two started dating. You were probably meeting a lot of David’s stuffy friends back then.’
He had a slight English accent.
‘You don’t look stuffy,’ she said, glancing at him quickly from head to toe. He wore thongs on his feet, a faded pair of jeans and navy blue v-neck t-shirt. His hair was unkempt and his tanned face was unshaven. The name rang a bell but not the man.
‘I’ve had the stuffing kicked out of me since then.’
‘That sounds interesting and David’s friends aren’t normally interesting.’
‘Well, if I had it my way, I would have preferred to have remained dull.’
David stepped in. ‘I accosted Seb out the front. He was walking up to get some Thai. I had no idea he was back in town.’
‘I’ve only just arrived. I’m minding a friend’s house while I work out what I’m going to do.’
‘Is there enough food for one more?’ asked David.
‘Yes, there is. You’re most welcome. Now, get out of the kitchen or I will ask you both to help.’
‘Please, let me help. I love to cook.’ Seb walked towards the work bench. ‘What are we having?’
Emma looked at the onions, at the chicken breasts still in their packages, at the oven clock which displayed five to eight, and said, ‘Takeaway.’
TWO
Emma sat on the armrest of one of the sofas. It was the furthest she dare remove herself. Her heart was still racing. She was unable to calm herself. She was relieved that no one seemed to notice. Mark, Sally and David surrounded the newcomer, keeping him entertained with their usual banter, and he in turn seemed to be enjoying the attention. Apparently Sebastian had just sailed a yacht from San Diego.
While they chatted Emma kept staring at her husband, trying to detect in him any difference, anything that might match the image of the man
she now knew him to be. He had not changed on coming home. He was still in his suit pants and his shirt, sleeves rolled, top button undone, and wearing the shoes that hurt his feet when he wore them too long. Emma had dressed for the evening. She wore a black A-line cocktail dress which came to just above her knee. It was a dress David had once torn from her. She’d had it mended.
She lifted her glass of champagne to her lips, watching his every move. He sat by Sally as naturally as he might have sat by any of his friends’ wives. Emma could spot no sign of their true relationship. There were unnecessary touches and shared looks but they were of the kind she would expect a guilty couple
not
to make. If anything, they were more comfortable together, not less so. And given the circumstances, with both of their partners close by, this seemed unnatural. So much so that for a moment Emma was willing to doubt the truth of Paul’s claim. But only for a moment. She’d known it was true as soon as he’d said it.
It was all so
ordinary
, she sighed. She kicked off her heels and rubbed her feet against the carpet. It was
suburban
. From this angle the affair looked as dull as one of David’s work dinner parties. He had bought Sally a flat in Kirribilli.
Money removed the illicit nature of the affair. It was respectable. There wouldn’t be any stolen moments in the backs of cars, in laneways, on stairwells. There could be no excitement. They’d have appointments. They’d schedule it.
Emma felt the dull pain in her chest that was oppressing her. She was feeling sluggish now. The adrenaline was departing. She drank down the rest of her champagne. It was French. Dry. But it wasn’t a cure for heartache. She placed the glass on the coffee table and David noticed. Ever the host, he stood, lifted the bottle out of the silver ice bucket and refilled it.
‘You’d like a day on the harbour, wouldn’t you, Em?’ he said as he sat back down.
‘What?’
All eyes were on her.
‘Sebastian is going to take us all out on his yacht,’ said Sally.
Emma smiled and nodded. She just had to get through the evening. She needed to talk to David alone. Not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the following day, either. But they had to talk and she had to decide who she was going to be.
Suddenly Paul entered the room and Emma stood up abruptly. David must have left the front gate
open. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him on the steps. She shot him a warning look, which stopped him dead. It was obvious to her that he was determined to have it all out, then and there. Emma was not going to let that happen.
‘Sorry to barge in, I didn’t expect a party!’ he said, smiling and nodding.
‘Come off it, Paul, you’re always welcome,’ said David. ‘You know Mark and Sally?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said, stepping in to shake Mark’s hand and to kiss Sally. Sally turned so he might air-kiss her cheek but he ignored this and planted a very real kiss on her lips, holding it for a second too long. Her surprised expression made him smile.
‘Don’t you look gorgeous,’ he said, as he moved away. She was wearing a tight-fitting glimmering gold cocktail dress. When Emma had invited her she had told her to glam it up. But that was before she knew what was going on.
‘And you remember Seb, right?’ asked David.
‘Sebastian, it’s been a long time. Out here on business? How’s Marion?’
Sebastian smiled, shook Paul’s hand but didn’t answer the question. David stepped in and handed a Paul a glass of champagne.
‘No, I can’t stay; I just popped in for a minute.’ But he took the glass anyway.
As the group strived to make Paul welcome, Emma kept up her role, her heart in her mouth. She could see Paul was only temporarily stalled by her warning look and the unexpected presence of Sebastian. He was waiting for an opportunity to make his declaration. Those who have nothing to lose are always for revolution when it comes.