Page 40 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Behind his large, leather, ergonomic chair hangs a canvas awash in shades of blue and gold—some of the only color brought into the room. A matching canvas is hung on display on the opposite side of the room, between the shelves filled with books and the knickknacks his interior designer found fitting in the space. Just off the center of the room is a tweed-gray couch, situated in front of the flat screen television that’s mounted to the left of the door. Khalohn turns the big screen on, adjusting the volume down low before he sits behind his desk.

A while later, after he shuts his computer down and turns off the television for the night, he makes his way to his bedroom. He takes a quick shower before donning a pair of blue slacks and a white, mock-collar button-up shirt. He allows his mind to revisit thoughts of Bryn as he loops a belt around his hips and dons a watch with a matching leather band. He slides his bare feet into a pair of brown leather, Brunello Cucinelli loafers, grabs his wallet, and is out the door.

As he rides in the backseat of the Maybach, Bryn becomes all he thinks about. Rather than the pleasure he doled out upon their last encounter, he recalls the smaller, seemingly insignificant moments. The way she parted her lips as he grazed his fingers across the smooth skin of her face. The feel of her tongue as she sought to taste him. The look in her eyes when he yanked her off her seat and into his arms—and the expression on her face when she called to him before he left.

Is—is there something wrong? Something wrong with…me?

He replays her questions on a loop as it occurs to him the message he’s sent. The longer he ponders it, the more aware he becomes that she’s twice been granted access to his private quarters with a certain expectation, and he’s never so much as loosened a button on his shirt. Given the lack of conversation exchanged between them, he can understand why she would think he’s somehow dissatisfied with what she has to offer, even in spite of his answer to her question. In point of fact, she can’t be further from the truth.

He thinks ahead to the night that awaits him and the complexities of the situation he’s created. He’s been privy to her nerves; and while he’s confident he can dissolve any uncertainty he’s planted within her, he makes up his mind that he’d like to dispel her doubts in a way he never has before. The longer he considers it, the surer he is of his decision. Out of the ordinary as it may be—so is she. So is their arrangement. Furthermore, he has glimpsed her value, and he knows better than to tarnish it.

Jessica stares throughher reflection in the vanity mirror as she thinks over the last several days. With the cash Stefano insisted she take, after they shared a slice of apple pie at Sunrise Diner & Donuts a couple of nights ago, she’s got more money in her bank account than has ever been there at one time. In less than thirty minutes, she will be earning another ten grand. As much as she needs the money, and she’s under no illusion she can talk herself out of needing it, she hasn’t quite been able to talk herself intospendingany of it.

Burying her fingers in her hair, which she’d taken the time to curl before her commute into Manhattan, Jessica seals her eyes closed and asks herself the same question she’s been trying to figure out since the moment Godrik walked out of the room on Tuesday night.

Why me?

She’s been prepared to sell her body. At least, she thought she was. What she wasn’t and still isn’t prepared for is Godrik. It isn’t merely the curiosity he’s sparked inside of her. It isn’t the way he turns her on, or how confusing it is for her mind, her body, and her heart to be in three completely different worlds when it comes to the man.

All right. Maybe it’s a little bit about that, she thinks as she pulls in a deep breath.He’s handsome. And while I’ve never seen him naked, he’s good with his hands. He’sreallygood with his mouth, and I’d have to be dead not to be turned on by him—even if my heart is confused, because I’ve never had sex with someone I didn’t care about; even if my mind is confused because the sum of what we are amounts to an exchange that’s more monetary than anything else; even if he is a stranger.

Even if he’s spoken a sum total of five sentences to me.

Jessica pulls in a sharp breath through her nose and rights herself. This time, when she stares at her reflection, she sees herself. Shestudiesherself. For reasons she can’t begin to comprehend, Godrik Morgan thinks she’s worth an obscene amount of money. Given she hasn’t so much as touched him—which she understands is the wholepointof Clandestine’s—she’s certain she’s not worth the price tag Stefano placed on her. The price tag to which Beatrice agreed. This certainty makes her feel guilty—guilty enough to let more than seventeen thousand dollars sit in her bank account untouched.

It also makes her feel more than a little bit afraid. A couple nights ago, she’d told Stefano Godrik makes her feelnotafraid. But that was post orgasm. And not just any orgasm, but one gifted with a slow, sensual, intentional build that came complete with a payment of eight thousand dollars. She was in shock. After a few days of being able to think of little else, she’s convinced herself tonight will be different. In her mind, there’s no way Godrik will pay double his normal fee without demanding something in return. Though, it’s not the possibility of more which frightens Jessica—it’s the possibility that he’ll finally have his way with her and realize she isn’t worth the thousands uponthousandshe’s invested in her.

She shakes her head at herself and shifts her gaze down to her body. There’s nothing to smooth out, but she adjusts the straps to her navy blue, lacey, bralette bustier and traces her fingers across the front of her matching, lacey, bikini panties to busy her hands. In the back of her mind, she believes if she turns out to be Godrik’s most expensive disappointment, she’ll be free. With the money she’ll have earned in just a week’s time, she’ll have somebreathingroom. She reminds herself this’ll allow her to look for a job. Arealjob. A job that won’t make her mother ashamed of her. A job that won’t make her best friend stare at her in an expression that reads both worrisome and awestruck.

Except, if she listens closely to the soft whisper of a voice in the back of her mind, she hears the truth. She doesn’t want to be a disappointment. She can’t explain why. It’s not that she has feelings for Godrik. That’s impossible, as she knows nothing about him—other than he’s the type of man who pays for sex. That aloneshouldbe reason enough not to harbor any twisted thoughts about satisfying him. Jessica can only imagine how many women were in his bed before her. Then again, she is wholly aware she has no right to judge. Not when she’s putting herself in his bed—no matter her reasons.

She stares down at her hands, now clasped in her lap. In a moment of surrender, she acknowledges to herself that it’s complicated. It’s all so very complicated. She owes him her body, and nothing more; and yet, she wants to give him more. She wants to give him what he has given her.

“Fuck,” she whispers as her eyes fall closed.

“There’s a rumor going around.”

Jessica’s head snaps up as she looks to the vanity station to her left. Dahlia, the curvy blonde who was kind to her on her first night, must have arrived only moments ago. Jessica was so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t hear her as she settled in and began her own preparations.

“Um, I’m sorry?” murmurs Jessica.

“Beatrice is classy. She runs an upscale operation. Well, as upscale as one can get in this line of work. But don’t for a second let yourself think the women of Bea’s collection aren’t catty. We are. We sototallyare.”

Jessica folds her arms across her chest, unconsciously hiding herself, not entirely sure what’s happening. Dahlia smooths her fingers underneath her eyes, sighs, and then turns to look at Jessica before she continues.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” she says.

Jessica doesn’t offer any type of response. She wants to believe Dahlia, but she also doesn’t understand the meaning behind her warning.

“Okay, I’ll admit, it’s not all nails and fangs. For some of us, we’ve got each other’s backs. Beatrice is all of our greatest ally. She’s our boss, yes, but she takes care of us. I wouldn’t say many of us arefriendsbeyond these halls, but we know the score like no one else does, you know? And we talk. About the men. The ones we like. The ones we have to watch out for. It gets catty when the ones we like prefer someone else. It’s stupid and petty but—it’s hard to escape. Comparison. Competition.”

“I don’t…” Jessica starts to say, shaking her head in a physical expression of her confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“Godrik. He’s not just a John. He’s a legend. Even if you aren’t his preferred flavor, he’ll take care of you at least once. Twice if he likes you. Twice if headoresyou—but only twice. Only evertwice.”

Dahlia tilts her head to the side, her gaze taking in Jessica as if she’s never seen her before. An impish grin pulls at her lips, revealing a confoundingly beautiful albeit dubious smile. Jessica’s only response is to blush.

“I don’t know you, but you’ve got my respect in spades. No one, and I meanno onehas had Godrik Morganthreetimes.”

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