Page 64 of Filthy Twisted Devil

“Nothing has to change right now,” Eden says. “We don’t have to act in front of our friends, but we’ll have to keep up Project Selfie.”

“That’s not a problem.” I’ll take any excuse to get close to her at this point. If she won’t let me taste her again, then posing for selfies will have to serve as a piss-poor substitute.

“Okay.” She pauses. “So I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah. See you.”

I don’t realize until I hang up that I have no reason to see her. No group hangouts, no parties, no events. Nothing to look forward to.

I force myself out of bed. I might as well get to work. It’s what I’ll have left on June 6, anyway.

26

EDEN

Maura’s post-baby gathering is the smallest party I’ve ever planned. With only the ten of us—plus Hazel—attending, all I had to do was send out an Evite, arrange food with Beau, and rearrange some chairs in the living room. A relaxed, low-key celebration for the new baby.

“It’s really less work than someone of your abilities should even waste their time on. I would have done it myself, but James wants to make sure I don’t overextend myself,” Maura said.

I didn’t mind. Work is work, and though I would have done it for free, it’s stupid to turn down a paycheck from a literal billionaire. Besides, even if I had worked hours and hours on the party, it would've been worth it to see Hazel spit up all over Ryan.

“Am I crazy, or did she do that on purpose?” he grumbles.

“She’s a baby. She spits up, it’s what they do,” Pippa says.

“She smiled afterward, though. Like she was happy that she ruined my shirt.”

“It’s not ruined,” Maura says. “It’s a custom graphic dye job from a new up-and-coming artist.”

“Exactly,” Luke says. “Your shirt is now a one-of-a-kind, mixed media art piece. I wouldn't wash that if I were you. It could be worth money someday.”

I giggle at the joke, then immediately check myself. Was I laughing too loud? Did anyone notice my reaction?

When I survey the room, absolutely no one is looking at me. Why would they be? I’m being paranoid, but I also know that I haven’t acted like myself since Luke walked into the room. I’m far too aware of his presence. I drift off during conversations, watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey on the other side of the room. When we’re standing in the same group, I find myself drifting physically closer to him, like my body is magnetized to his. It’s distracting, but it also feels natural, like our recent physical contact made pieces slide into place.

I purposefully put an end date on us because of that closeness. When I let Luke into my apartment, let him tie my wrists and play dominant, I caught a glimpse of what it would be like to be his girlfriend. I wanted it too much.

But I can’t have it. “Luke’s girlfriend” is a position that doesn’t exist. He has sexual partners, end of story. The real love of his life is his business. Right now, he’s able to let me in because I can help him bring Twisted Devil to a new level. Now, I’m not only helping him repair his reputation, I’m connecting him with my family as grain suppliers. My wants go along with his business’s, and he doesn’t have to make any compromises.

It won’t be like that forever. Soon enough, I’ll want more than he can give, and our relationship will be over. I protected myself with my June 5 end date.

Even if my body melts into goo when I see Luke take baby Hazel from Ryan. The way he cradles her in his arms, smiling down at her precious face, makes my ovaries grow heart eyes.

“Wow, Luke, you’re a natural,” Brinley says.

James snorts. “He wasn’t two weeks ago.”

“So what? I’ve been practicing.” Luke props Hazel up against his shoulder and gently pats her back. “If a baby screams whenever you pick her up, you just have to keep picking her up until she figures out you’re not going to leave her alone.”

“The same technique you used with women,” Nate says.

“Not true!” Luke says, then tilts his head at me. “I get women by offering fake relationships to fend off their territorial brothers.”

“More like you get woman,” Ryan clarifies. “I don’t see that working for you twice.”

Luke shrugs. “We’ll see. There are a lot of territorial brothers out there. I bet I can use that technique on at least three, maybe four ladies.”

Something sour twists in my stomach. I know he’s joking, but the idea of Luke hitting on other women still makes me want to hide in a bush, Homer Simpson style.