Love Beyond the Mask by Adelaide Sinclair

Sandy frowned, feeling completely thrown off by everything that had happened.

She had this gut feeling that somehow, all of it was connected to her-but she just couldn't bring herself to admit it.

Whitney looked at her with that cool, distant stare. The only reason she was forcing Sandy into this mess was for someone else's sake, not her own.

With a heavy sigh, Whitney didn't even bother answering Sandy's question. Instead, she grabbed her arm and all but shoved her toward the bedroom door.

Through the crack of the kicked-open door, Sandy caught a whiff of something strange—a weird, smoky scent mixed with the humid air of someone's heavy, labored breathing.

Just one look was enough for Whitney to know: Shane was definitely in trouble. This was about what she'd feared.

He hadn't said a word earlier, and now she realized-it was because he couldn't.

But the worst part? Emma had set this all up, probably tipped off half the tabloid reporters in town to swarm the place at four in the morning, ready to catch a scandal live.

Listening to Shane's painful, ragged breaths, Whitney's worry spiked.

If Sienna had drugged him, she'd probably used even more than she had on Sandy.

Fast. And tomorrow's headlines had

flickered, then landed helplessly on Sandy, who was still

time to rip the Band-Aid off. For the sake of busting up Emma's scheme-and for Shane's poor little

had to push Sandy into the spotlight

in there, and I don't know if he's okay. Could be alcohol poisoning—you need to go check on him, please." Whitney didn't wait for a response. With a nervous glance, she nudged Sandy into the dim, masculine

can't be that

Shane downing one whiskey bottle after another, and suddenly

quiet... what

tried to call out for Shane,

Where are

widened as Whitney turned and

with me? What if he's really dying in there? We'd need to call an

too. She had no idea what Sienna might

"Let's split up! Shane's daughter hasn't been seen all night-God knows if Sienna's done something to her. I'll go

Sandy called, but Whitney was already gone, her footsteps echoing

at the shadowy bedroom. The place was all sharp lines and cold colors-black and white, barely any light. She followed the