Chapter 8 – Eden
EDEN
Idon't arrive back at my apartment until late that night. After our celebratory drinks, Luke and I turned to more practical matters. He pulled up all the events he’s attending for the next few weeks and I fit them into my schedule.
He wrote an introductory email to Flair Events, which I completely rewrote and attached my portfolio to.
Then we carefully constructed the story of how we went from acquaintances to dating, quizzing each other on the tale to check for inconsistencies.
I was surprised to see go-with-the-flow, party boy Luke get into the nitty gritty details with me. Normally, my friends are happy to hear plan A—they don’t feel the need to pay attention to plans B, C, and D. Luke did.
In fact, he was the one who came up with Project Selfie.
He pointed out that we'll get the best bang for our buck convincing my brothers that we’re dating by sending them cute couple selfies.
We took five or six of them around the Twisted Devil bar, offices, and storehouse rooms, using clothes from the lost and found to give the illusion of wardrobe changes.
I’ve already picked one to text Wade tomorrow, where I’m sampling a bottle of honey whiskey that hasn’t been released in stores yet.
I’m exhausted as I walk up the stairs, but exhilarated, too. I always get a buzz when I start planning a new event, and my fake relationship might be the most elaborate event I’ve ever put on.
As soon as I open the apartment door, I’m greeted by a surprising face. Brinley sits at the kitchen counter, one glass of red wine in front of her, a second glass poured and waiting.
“You’re home?” I ask Brinley, dropping my purse on the counter. “I thought you’d be at Beau’s.”
“That was before.” Brinley raises a brow as she slides the second wine glass toward me.
“I’ll start with saying, I’m so, so, so sorry for sharing your location with your brothers.
I was stupid. They called, and you didn’t respond to any of my texts, and I knew how desperate you were for money.
I jumped to conclusions and broke friend code. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, taking the glass in my hand. “I had enough going on, that’s the least of my problems. I’m not mad.”
“Good. Then I won’t feel guilty when I demand for you to spill it. The gossip, not the wine. Because I know you’re not actually dating my brother. Whatever it is, I can handle it—best friend code.”
Despite having enjoyed plenty of whiskey at Twisted Devil, I still take a long swallow of the wine to steel myself. It’s deliciously tart, probably an Italian wine Beau picked up. “It's kind of a long story,” I start.
Brinley doesn't interrupt me, even though it takes me a while to tell her everything.
How I created the PrairieSmoke profile when my money started running out.
The final nail in the coffin of my bank account when the Whitmer Gallery rescheduled their opening.
Scheduling the auction in the hopes of getting one last cash infusion.
Walking into the St. Regis, ready to give up everything.
Her face is carefully neutral and nonjudgmental—a feat, since Brinley has strong feelings about almost everything and is terrible about keeping them in.
She drains half her glass of wine after she hears her brother's name, even though I quickly reassure her that nothing happened between us. I explained how I ran, how he pulled the emergency stop on the elevator, and how he explained he’d been watching me for weeks.
How he had no intention to bid on me until he recognized my birthmark on the poster.
How he spent over a million to make sure he beat out the other five bidders to keep me safe.
When I’m finished, she carefully sets down on her empty glass.
“My brother”—she pauses for a long moment—“paid one-point-three million dollars”—she pauses again—“for your virginity?”
I shake my head quickly. “He didn't take my virginity, obviously. He never wanted to. It was only to make sure nobody else did. He released the escrow, so there's no money and no record that it happened.”
Brinley closes her eyes for a beat. When she opens them, she looks very tired. “Eden.”
I bite my lip and wait for her to say whatever she's going to say.
“You could've come to me. When you ran out of money, you should've come to me and I would've helped you.
I would've given you the whole apartment, or sold something, or asked Beau for help. Anything. Selling your virginity to a stranger was insane and completely unnecessary. Please tell me that you know that.”
“I know,” I admit. “I just didn’t want to be rescued. I wanted to fix it myself, without anyone swooping in to be my hero. The entire point of doing it on a platform with strangers was that it would never touch anyone I loved.”
“And then it touched my brother,” Brinley says dryly, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Seriously, Eden. Are you okay?”
My shoulders slump, and for the first time all weekend, I’m honest. “I don’t know.”
My adrenaline has spiked so many times over the past few days—when my brothers found out about my cam work, when I saw Luke at the hotel, when I confronted everyone in the lobby.
I haven't had time to sit with what could have happened. If it hadn’t been Luke waiting for me in that lobby.
If I really had sold my virginity to a stranger.
Would it be regret or relief that I’d be feeling right now?
I’m not sure, but right now, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve dodged a bullet.
“Well?” Brinley says after a long silent moment. “What’s next?”
“That's what Luke and I were just working out. We're going to keep fake dating for a while. It'll keep my brothers back in Sundre, and it’ll help with Luke’s whole image problem.” I look down at my wine. “You know, after the Peppermint article.”
“Ah,” Brinley says. That single syllable drips with guilt and regret. I quickly keep talking.
“So Luke and I both get something out of this. I know it’s a lot to ask, Brin, but I hope you’re okay with playing along.”
She lets out a long exhale. “Yeah. I am. I mean, the whole thing is a little insane, but I owe you both. Luke’s reputation tanked because of my articles, and yesterday, when I shared your location with your brothers—I didn’t realize what you were going to do.
I was worried about you, too, but I shouldn’t have told them where you were. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I insist. “I know my brothers. They would have found me, even if you hadn’t cooperated. They would have found some sketchy guy to hack into your phone or something.”
“Still. I should have made it harder for them. It’s friend code.”
“You let me stay in your apartment for free for months.” I laugh. “I think you’ve earned one friend code violation. Seriously, Brin, I was too mad at my brothers to save any for you, and I’m not interested in starting a fight now.”
“Good,” she says. “I’ll apologize to Luke, too, at some point. It’s my fault your brothers caught him with you.”
“You had no idea he’d be there. He should be apologizing to you, actually.”
She laughs, then leans over the counter, looking me dead in the eye. “Just promise me one thing, Eden. That it stays fake. I know my brother can be very charming when he wants to be. You can do better than him, Eden. I don't want you actually losing it to a guy like Luke.”
I lift my glass. That’s one promise I’ll have no issues keeping. “It stays fake.”
We clink our glasses, and as I down the rest of my drink, it occurs to me that I’ve agreed to two sets of rules tonight—Brinley’s and Luke's.
I just hope to hell I won’t break any of them.