Page 20 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Not deterred in the slightest, Jessica leans across the table toward him, her eyes frantically searching his as she demands to know, “Why not? I know I’m not, like, a model or anything, but I’ve got the right—”

“Damnit, Jess—you’re beautiful and we both know it. That’s not what this is about.” Mimicking her stance, Stefano closes the distance between them and whisper shouts, “But if you think, for one goddamned second, I’m going to let you sell your body for—”

“For my mother?”

She coughs out a humorless laugh, wondering if she’s come unhinged. Clearheaded enough to understand Stefano’s reaction, she can admit to herself what she’s proposing is crazy and unlike anything she would have ever considered before. But now that the idea has taken residence in her mind, she can’t fathom a better chance to rise above all the setbacks which have been piling up as of late.

“You need money? I’ll give it to you. Justask.”

“I don’t want your money, Huey. I want your help.”

“What’s the difference?”

Taking hold of his hands once more, she holds on tight and murmurs, “Youknowthe answer to that.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Hell, we barely even talk about my job, and now this?”

“I’ll make enough to cover my expenses and mom’s, right?”

Stefano hesitates before begrudgingly admitting, “More. Way more.”

Her fingers grip his even tighter, her heartbeat picking up speed as she pulls herself even closer. “And you trust her. She’s your Queen Bea, so you can trust her with me, right?”

His face contorted into a deep frown, Stefano blows a sigh through his nose, touching his forehead to hers. “You’ll never forgive me if I let you do this, dove. I can’t.”

“It’s my body.” As she says the words, the tears which she has been holding at bay all night begin to fill her eyes—only now, they fall for completely different reasons. “It’s myhealthybody. If I don’t do everything in my power to help my mom, I’ll never forgivemyself. And if you won’t help me, I’ll just have to do it without you.”

“Damnit, Jessica,” he grunts, pressing his head against hers harder.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me there’s another job out there that’ll hire me tomorrow and offer me better pay. Tell me, and I won’t ask you to do this.”

They sit in silence for what feels like forever. All Jessica can hear is the sound of her blood rushing through her body as her heart pounds in anticipation of Stefano’s reply. Finally, he pulls away from her enough to lock his gaze with hers.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

She smiles and then lifts her seat out of the booth in order to reach his cheek. She presses a kiss against his smooth skin, lingering long enough to breathe, “Thank you.”

Stefano stands infront of her door and hesitates a minute longer. He pulls in a breath through his nose, exhaling it slowly as he smooths a hand down the length of his black, floral Versace silk tie. It’s been years since he’s mindlessly succumbed to his propensity to fidget, his confidence all but eradicating the habit. Within the underground palace in which he stands is where he once shed the last of his false identity and finally stepped into the fullness of his true self. Only now, he can barely help straightening the lapels of his black Versace suit—the irony of fiddling with such fine material not at all lost on him.

Staring at the closed door, he remembers the call he received from Jessica yesterday afternoon. Her test results came back negative. Stefano did not doubt they would, but he couldn’t deny he had hoped the time it would take for his beloved friend to see a doctor would be the appropriate amount of time to change her mind.

It was not.

The thought has occurred to him, more than once, to lie. He’s even gone so far as to play out the conversation in his head—the conversation where he would tell Jessica that Beatrice would not allow her to be a part of hercollection.The reason behind her decision would be simple; for the intimate friendship which exists between himself and Jessica might, after all, prove to be a great conflict of interest. He’s concocted a number of examples in which Beatrice believes it would disrupt business if he, as the gatekeeper, could not separate his professional self from his personal self. Being so familiar with the Johns, who whisper the password to gain access night after night, he’s in a unique position to be impartial with whom Jessica is paired with; or perhaps the aftermath of an encounter would yield erratic behavior for either of them. He is convinced he would be able to sell the lie effortlessly, but the ease of such a deception does nothing to make it easier to execute.

In truth, there is no denying Jessica’s predicament, her character, and the lengths she will go to dig herself out of the hole in which she finds herself. Stefano knows he has only two choices: to play by her rules—or his.

Having accepted his love for her needs to be expressed with the integrity found only in the truth, he poises himself to execute the best alternate option he can think of. Certain he is in no position to lie to his dearest friend, he instead intends to not let his entire idea go to waste. As the gatekeeper, he is not short of the power ofknowledge.Without further ado, he raises his closed fist and knocks gently on the barrier between him and thequeenof Manhattan’s finest bordello. He’s beckoned to enter before he even has a chance to drop his hand down his side.

Steeling himself for a decision he will not be able to take back, he rolls his shoulders and enters Beatrice’s office.

“Bonjour, darling,” she greets, barely looking up from the records she’s addressing at the moment. “What is it you need at this early hour?”

Stefano swallows hard, taking a few hesitant steps toward her desk before he replies, “There’s someone I think you should meet—a woman I believe would be an extraordinary addition to your collection.”

“Oh?” She stops what she’s doing, folding her hands as she looks at Stefano with an undeniable sense of intrigue. Her dark auburn, shoulder-length hair falls dramatically on either side of her face—the strands as straight and sleek as ever. But it’s her painted red lips, shaped in a pouty-ohfashion that hints at her interest.

Never before has Stefano spoken of a recruit, but his position has earned him a level of trust few on Beatrice’s payroll can claim. After all, he is her eyes and ears. He knows, before he says another word, his Queen Bea will not simply hear him out, but welcome Jessica with open arms.

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