Chapter 4 – Luke
LUKE
My hands shake as I walk into the St. Regis Hotel’s luxurious lobby.
Normally, I’d appreciate the elegant tile floors, glass walls, and chrome light fixtures that surround me.
Today, they all just blur together. The guests walking toward reception are nothing but black dots at the edges of my vision.
I shake my head to try and get myself together. I haven't slept since the auction ended and I’m running on nothing but nerves and espresso.
Winning the auction was simple enough. I funded the escrow from my personal discretionary account. I fielded a confused call from my bank representative, confirming that I wasn’t a victim of identity theft, but the transaction went through quickly after that.
Shortly after that, CamCuties immediately sent me a buyer packet, informing me that PrairieSmoke was in Toronto and she would reach out to schedule a time this week.
They also sent a list of rules for her safety that, to me, seem shockingly insufficient, considering that Eden’s a lone woman about to meet a strange man in a hotel room.
Do not perform any action with your seller without their express consent.
Do not ask your seller for personal information.
Only schedule meetings with your seller through the CamCuties interface.
The list goes on, but none of the rules are harsh enough.
Worse, they’re all unenforceable and built on the honor system.
The only consequences I’d face for violating the rules would be having my account terminated.
It infuriates me but also fills me with a grim sense of satisfaction that I made the right choice.
Eden needed me to intervene, because it would have been way too fucking easy for somebody else to take advantage of her.
When she asked me if I was available to meet tonight, I jumped at the chance. I haven’t been able to think straight since I recognized her birthmark, and waiting any longer to confront her would be torture. I won’t feel right until I get this situation settled.
Of course, I still have no idea what I'm going to say to Eden when she gets here. All I know is that I have to say something.
My watch says that I’m here half an hour early, so I head to the bar to kill time. Otherwise, I’ll just be pacing the lobby like a psychopath.
“Good evening, sir,” the bartender says. “What can I get you?”
“Twisted Devil gold, neat,” I answer automatically. It’s my usual drink, even though for once, no part of me wants whiskey. I just want this conversation to be over with as quickly as possible. Or for it to never happen. If Eden doesn’t show up at all, that would be the best outcome.
I thought about telling Brinley what happened.
Or Beau. Or anyone. It feels perverse that I’m the only person who knows that I just spent $1.
3 million on my sister’s best friend’s virginity, even if I have no intention on collecting.
I want to confess to someone, but I can’t.
If I tell the guys—it would be an unforgivable breach of Eden’s privacy.
If I tell Brinley, then she’ll just tell Eden, who’ll have CamCuties start up the auction again without me.
Then she’ll end up in a hotel room with one of those other jerks.
No, the only way to keep her out of the wrong room is for me to be the man in the right one.
Though I’d rather not go up to the suite at all.
It’s too inappropriate, considering what we’re supposed to be doing there.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to direct her to a quiet corner of the bar to have a conversation.
One where she decides to give up on selling her virginity.
I fiddle with my glass, watching it leave a damp ring on the cocktail napkin.
The thing I still don’t get—why Eden would do this.
Obviously, she needed money. Starting a business isn’t for the weak, and I would have been shit out of luck if Nate didn’t invest in Twisted Devil at the beginning.
She just doesn’t seem like the type to do something that extreme.
Hell, even her being a camgirl stretches credulity for me.
Eden has always seemed too…pure. She’s pragmatic and sensible, not the kind of woman to take a risk like this.
And fuck, how the hell is she still a virgin?
I’ve never hit on her or anything, but I’m not blind.
She’s got that thick dark blonde hair and those wide, clear hazel eyes.
I’ve seen the way those eyes light up when she gets excited about some scheme my sister cooked up.
And yeah, Eden favors oversized clothing, but I’ve seen the way certain jeans hug her toned legs or how a sweater slips down to show her collarbone.
She should have had plenty of unpaid volunteers at her door.
Maybe she’s just not a sexual person. But that doesn’t feel right, either. I watched the way PrairieSmoke’s thighs shook when she turned up the setting on her vibrator. I can’t imagine her not enjoying sex.
I finally take a sip of my drink, to wash away the thought. Now’s not the time for me to think about Eden and sex in the same sentence. I need to come up with a way to get her to swear off sex work altogether before she gets hurt. I rehearse a few options in my head.
Look, Eden, I know I’ve been watching you strip for weeks, but you need to stop before anyone else sees you.
That’s not going to convince her of shit. I sound like the worst kind of hypocrite.
I know I’m the last person you wanted to win that auction, but it’s actually good that I did, because it was a really dangerous idea.
As if she was too dumb to understand the risk she was taking. That’s not going to mean shit to her, either.
What if I told you that you could walk out of this hotel still broke and with your virtue fully intact? You see the upside, right?
“Pathetic,” I mutter to myself. I’m really just hoping that seeing me will give Eden the reality check she needs—that if I can find her secret persona, I’m not alone. Even though, knowing her, she probably thought this through for months before she pulled the trigger.
I stare down at my glass, trying to come up with any sentence that sounds more convincing. My mind is still blank when, at exactly two minutes to six, Eden strolls into the lobby.
She's dressed for the part of a call girl meeting a date. Her dark blonde hair hangs in a loose curtain over her dark coat, and she’s wearing a pair of high heels that I’ve never seen before. Her makeup is starker than I’ve ever seen it, her mouth painted red and her hazel eyes lined with black.
Those eyes scan the room as she walks toward the elevators. She was supposed to meet the winning bidder in the suite upstairs, but she seems to sense there’s someone here waiting on her.
Then her eyes land on me.
She freezes midstride, her mouth hanging open, her mind clearly calculating how this is possible. She knows—I’m JAL29871.
Or maybe she doesn’t, based on the way she spins on her heel and speed walks to the elevator like she doesn’t want to be seen.
I swear under my breath. Of course she didn't assume I was the buyer. She just saw Brinley’s brother, sitting in the bar of the hotel where she’s meeting an anonymous man to trade her virginity for $1.3 million. She panicked and ran, hoping I hadn't seen her.
I’m on my feet before I even think to stand. I jog across the lobby, my longer legs eating up the distance between us. Eden jabs at the elevator button. The chrome doors open immediately for her, and she steps inside, her shoulders sinking in relief.
My hand darts between the doors before they can close. She stares at me with wide, horrified eyes.
“Get out,” she hisses. “I’m meeting someone.”
“I know.”
She huffs. “You don’t know anything, and I don’t have time to explain. So just—”
“No, Eden. I know.” I take a step into the elevator. "I kept hoping that I had it wrong and someone else would walk in. But it's you. You're PrairieSmoke."
The elevator doors close, leaving us alone together.