Chapter 10 – Eden
EDEN
Halloween
“Just go and talk to him!” Pippa tells Ryan encouragingly.
“Are you crazy?” Ryan groans. “I can’t go up to the Rangers goalie when I’m dressed like a giant mouse!”
“Yet you had no problems cutting a movie star in the snacks line so you could snag the last mini-quiche,” Beau notes.
“Hey, you know I’m serious about my mini-quiches.”
The group around me laughs. I’m only half paying attention to the conversation, if I’m honest. I’m too busy taking notes on the excellent job James’s event planners did setting up the masquerade party.
I can’t believe how perfectly they transformed an office floor into a haunted ballroom with strategically employed velvet curtains, smoke machines, and fake cobwebs.
An elaborate dry ice display completely obscures a copy machine.
I’m definitely asking for a list of their vendors, because the cocktails are exceptional, elaborate-looking and expensive enough to please the celebrity guests, but quick enough for a bartender to expedite in under a minute.
The best part, of course, are the costumes. The guests are decked out in over-the-top disguises, from Marie Antoinette with a three-foot-tall wig to giant Pikachu with glowing fake electric bolts emerging from its cheeks.
Our group looks pretty great, too. Cat and Nate are the Bride and Bill from Kill Bill, to accommodate her pregnant belly.
I assumed the costumes were Nate’s idea, but I’m surprised to find out that Cat has a secret soft spot for absurdly violent action movies.
Beau and Brinley are dressed as Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, which started a lively debate about Firth vs.
Macfadyen. James simply didn’t dress up, wearing his usual suits, a burnt orange tie his only nod to the holiday.
Since Maura stayed home to rest, he apparently had no interest in dressing up.
Luke and I chose something more classic—the evergreen sexy vampires.
We weren’t lazy about it, though. When he sent me a picture of the deep red velvet suit he bought ages ago, I immediately scoured eBay until I found a corset-style gown in the same shade.
It’s a little small on me, which in practice means it makes my breasts look fantastic.
Luke’s Phantom-style mask covers half his face, emphasizing the sharp line of his jaw.
The little line of fake blood dripping down the edge of his mouth keeps drawing my eyes to his lips.
It might not be the most creative costume in the world, but we look insanely sexy.
The hockey player Ryan’s been staring at sets his empty glass down on a table and heads toward the dance floor. Pippa’s face brightens.
“Now’s your chance!” she exclaims, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go.”
Ryan looks alarmed. “I can’t just walk up to him! That’s insane.”
“You’re not going to walk up to him. You’re going to dance up to him and shamelessly eavesdrop on everything he says. Then I’ll act like the crazy fan and ask for an autograph, and you won’t have to say a word.”
“We’ll go with you,” Cat offers. “Nate and I will help buffer.”
“Yeah! With our help, that goalie won’t even know you exist,” I add, making Luke chuckle.
“Fine,” Ryan groans. “But we’re all doing shots first, except for Cat. No other exceptions.”
After a round of tequila shots, we’re all on the dance floor, following Pippa’s lead as she carefully maneuvers us closer to Ryan’s hockey idol.
“Is this guy really that good?” I ask Luke, my voice barely carrying over the music blasting from the speakers.
Luke puts his hands on my waist and pulls me closer. “Oh, he’s good. He might be the best guy currently playing his position.”
“So why aren’t you fangirling like Ryan is?”
“Because I know that guy is obsessed with Twisted Devil. He’d probably kill for an advertising partnership, which means he’d be more impressed by me than I would be by him.”
“So your starstruck level is proportional with how much they love your whiskey?”
“Exactly.” He spins me in his arms so my back is against his chest. “Oh my god, look.”
It doesn’t take long for me to figure out what he’s talking about. “Is Ryan’s hockey crush hitting on Pippa?”
Luke’s chest rumbles with laughter. “Sure looks like it.”
We sway to the music, watching as the hockey player tries to chat up Pippa and as Ryan’s mancrush quickly shifts to loathing. Ryan possessively pulls Pippa back to him. I’m so busy watching that it takes me a few minutes to realize exactly how closely we’re dancing.
The music grows slower and more sultry. Luke’s hands move from my waist to my hips. As more people join the dance floor, he pulls me even closer until my body is flush against his. His breath grazes my ear, sending goosebumps up my arms.
His fingers flex against my hips, pressing in, then deliberately loosening, like he keeps catching himself wanting more than he’s allowed. Somehow, that restrained half-inch of pressure is hotter than any man’s hands have ever been on me.
It’s all for show. That’s the only explanation I give for why I grind back against him. Why I close my eyes to inhale his lush, woody cologne. Nothing could be more convincing than fully giving into Luke holding me.
Except when I open my eyes and catch Brinley looking at me, I’m not sure exactly who I’m convincing here.
Luke’s head dips down and his lips brush against my neck. It might be an accident, or it might be part of the show. I just know that the room feels stiflingly hot and my corset dress cuts into my chest every time I breathe.
I need a break from it all—the noise, the crowd, Luke’s body pressed against mine.
Someplace quieter than little rooms set up for drinks, which are completely full of partiers.
I know Sequel has staff corridors built around the edges of the room, though, accessed with hidden panel doors.
I’ve been watching the catering team use one all night.
“I’m going to get some water,” I yell in Luke’s ear, the only way he’ll be able to hear me over the thumping bass. I don’t wait for him to acknowledge it. I just turn and shove my way through the dancers to the edge of the room.
It takes a few tries for me to press the wall just right so that the hidden door opens to a dimly lit empty hallway. I walk through, expecting the door to swing shut behind me. Instead, a hand catches it.
Luke follows me inside. He’s still wearing the mask, half his face hidden. The door closes, insulating us from the roaring music and guests. It feels like hitting pause on a video game.
“Hi,” I say stupidly. It’s the only thing I can think to say that doesn’t sound weirdly offensive, like, What do you want? Are you following me?
Luke takes a breath, and my eyes drop to linger on his chest rising, then falling. He reflexively glances down at my chest in return, making blood rush to my face.
Neither of us speaks. The bass from the party throbs through the wall behind me—or maybe that’s just my pulse. He’s close enough that I can see the line of fake blood at the corner of his mouth, and I have the insane urge to lick it off.
“I want to try something, if that’s okay,” he rasps.
His eyes are dark in the dim light, blue and green blotted out by the wide expanse of his pupils. I have no idea what he’s talking about—but maybe I hope that I do.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Luke takes a step forward and props his forearm on the wall next to my shoulder.
My heart stops for a full second, then races forward like a freight train.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and he looks down, following the movement.
He raises his hand like he’s about to cradle my face, but he just drags his fingers along the line of my jaw.
I know what he’s doing. He gives me plenty of time to stop him, but I don’t.
His lips graze lightly against mine. The light touch makes my mind go blank. The distant sound of the music fades into nothing, and the world narrows to him and me, standing in the dark, on the precipice of something dangerous.
I part my lips for him and his mouth claims mine in a slow, consuming kiss. Honeyed heat drips down my spine, warming every part of me. Kissing someone has never felt like this.
His hand finally lands on my waist, and it isn’t gentle.
His fingers spread wide, pinning me back against the wall like he needs me held still, and a small, needy sound escapes me—a sound I’ve never made in my life.
He swallows it. He tilts his head and takes the kiss deeper, unhurried and thorough, like he’s already decided we have all night.
It’s beyond how I ever imagined this might feel.
Before I can be brave enough to go further, Luke pulls back. He licks his lips, like he’s still savoring the taste of me. He draws a long, shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he says softly, almost to himself. Then he shoots me a devastating smirk.
“Figured we should practice that at least once before doing it in front of other people.”
“Right,” I force myself to reply. “Practice.”
That’s all this was. A rehearsal, so we could convince people this was real.
The uneven squeak of wheels on tile snaps me out of the moment. A caterer makes her way down the hallway in her dress blacks, wheeling a cart of beverages. She stops in place when she sees us and I force a smile.
“Good! You have water.” I grab a sweaty bottle from the cart. “Just what I was looking for. Thanks.”
Water in hand, I run back into the party. Luke follows me back to the dance floor. He doesn’t touch me this time. He dances next to me, like he would with a friend. If any of our friends finds that odd, they’re too tipsy or distracted to say anything.
I gratefully take more shots, one with Pippa and Brinley and one with all the guys.
The buzz from the alcohol makes my brain fuzzy and the whole party turn into a mass of color and fake cobwebs.
It makes it easier to pretend I never walked into a dark hallway, never let Luke gaze down at me like I was the most tempting thing he’d ever seen.
“We should probably go,” Luke declares sometime after midnight. “It’s getting late.”
“Project Selfie!” I gasp, grabbing his arm. “We need a pic first. Pippa!”
The Brain turns around, seeming unsurprised when I shove a phone into her hand.
“We need a photo for Instagram!” I tell her. I think my voice is too loud, but it’s hard to say. Volume stopped meaning much to me in the past few hours.
Pippa lifts an eyebrow, but she accepts my phone and opens the camera. Luke puts his arm around my shoulder and smiles for the camera, and I groan.
“Not like that! Here.” I grab his hand and put it on my waist. “And I touch your chest. Right. Okay, that should be good. Now look at me.”
Luke looks down, his mask shadowing his eyes and making them unreadable. When I put my hand on his chest, his heartbeat radiates through his clothes. It feels fast—or am I projecting my heartbeat?
A light flashes as Pippa takes the picture. I pull my hand away from his chest quickly, stepping away from Luke before he can even let go of me.
“There,” Pippa says, handing me back the phone. “Damn, you're a really good actress, Eden. If you weren’t posing him like a Ken doll, I'd never have guessed this”—she gestures between me and Luke—“wasn't real.”
She winks and walks away into the crowd.
Crap.
We’ve barely started this charade, and I’ve already stumbled.
“It’s fine,” Luke murmurs into my ear. “You can worry about that tomorrow. Let’s just get you home.”
I let him maneuver me out of the building and into a taxi. He rides to my apartment building with me, but when I insist that I’d rather go to sleep without him coming up, he reluctantly agrees to leave after he watches me walk inside the building.
Five people text me to make sure I made it home alright. My brothers, Brinley, and Luke, even though I only had to traverse one staircase without his supervision. I send everyone a thumbs up emoji without further elaborating.
I tear off the too-tight dress and throw it on the floor. My mask, I throw on top of it. I’ll deal with things like cleaning and laundry when I’m sober. Luckily, past Eden left a hoodie on the couch, and I pull it on instead.
When I finally flop into my bed, I find myself pressing my fingers to my mouth, almost like I’m checking whether it’s still mine.