Page 30 of The Pleasure Contract

And she couldn’t tell if she wanted that desperately or if the very idea made her want to cry.

Both, she acknowledged.

“Bristol,” Lachlan said. His voice was low and dark and so beautiful it hurt, and she promised herself she would remember that part. She would remember how beautiful he was and how he shined brighter than the Spanish summer outside, even at night. “I want to renegotiate terms.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

BYTHETIMEthey made it to Hong Kong, everybody knew Bristol’s name, as predicted. They not only knew it, they used it. She had to get a new phone with a private number and monitor who she gave it out to, because the old number had found its way into the hands of the tabloids. She had to suffer the indignity of “friends” she hadn’t spoken to since they’d sat near each other in a high school class claim to be some kind of authority on who she was now.

Bristol no longer belonged to herself alone.

It was a remarkably strange and vulnerable feeling.

She learned quickly not to read comments sections on internet posts. And to avoid the carrion crows of Twitter like the plague.

But it was still disconcerting. Real friends and colleagues texted her, some in disbelief. Others in what seemed to her like not-so-concealed jealousy, or even condemnation.

Interesting postdoc you’re doing there, one of her fellow PhDs texted. He had shared that office with her for years and yet Bristol knew, from that alone, that he was exactly the kind of man who would never take her seriously again. Because now when he looked at her or thought about her, he’d be thinking about her having sex with a man far more rich and powerful than he’d ever be.

Once again, she felt lucky that she’d actually signed binding nondisclosure agreements. Because knowing she was legally barred from commenting on what was going on between her and Lachlan made it easy to avoid telling anyone anything, even by mistake. It was a useful weapon. It also made it easy to gauge people’s reactions to what little she said, and it was always illuminating.

Luckily enough for Bristol, it wasn’t very surprising. Because the truth was, the years she’d spent as a doctoral student had already distanced her from old, so-called friends. To say nothing of the years she’d spent studying to get into that doctoral program in the first place. She’d always been single-minded and devoted—some might sayanal—and her preference for studying too much and following research notions down rabbit holes even if it was a Saturday had naturally pared down her friend group.

The only person she spoke to with any degree of honesty about her relationship with Lachlan was Indy, but Indy herself was less available as the summer wore on.

And maybe that, too, was a gift.

Because Lachlan wanted to renegotiate their terms and Bristol still didn’t quite know what to make of it. How could she have discussed something she couldn’t understand herself?

Not what he’d asked. She understood that perfectly. But how she felt about the possibility of making that shift.

“I want less job and more girlfriend,” Lachlan had told her that night in Spain.

“Am I not doing it right?” Bristol had asked, possibly sounding more vulnerable than she’d wanted to, but what was she supposed to do? She still felt split wide open and entirely too raw. There were words she could have used to describe what happened between them in that bed that night, but she didn’t dare. That was one more thing to tuck away in that hollow space inside to look at later. Like maybe in November. She’d remembered herself and cleared her throat. “All you have to do is tell me what you want, Lachlan, and I’ll do it. That’s what we agreed.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Bristol.” His hands had still been bracketing her face. He had still been lodged so deep within her she’d been tempted to imagine that was where he belonged. “I don’t want that. I want a real person.”

“I don’t think you do.” She’d felt a surge of something like panic but had tamped it down as best she could—then had offered him a smile. “Or you wouldn’t have convened a panel to find one.”

“The panel was meant to find me some filler,” Lachlan said, his eyes so blue she’d been certain he could see every last hint of the panic she’d been trying to hide. “But you’re not filler, Bristol. I want more of you.”

That hollow place beneath her breastbone had felt sharp and jagged then.

“That’s not what I signed up for.”

“I want to know what’s going on here,” he’d said, gruffly. He’d tapped his finger gently against her temple, still looking at her with that intensity that had made her think that she might burst into flame after all. Some part of her had wanted nothing more. “I don’t need you to agree with everything I say. I don’t need you to hide away your every feeling from me.”

And the part of her that might have welcomed that noted that he hadn’t been promising to offer her the same in return.

“I thought the entire purpose of this was to hide my feelings from you,” she’d said instead of pointing that out. “So you wouldn’t have to deal with them when what you really want is sex.”

“Maybe it will get messy,” Lachlan had acknowledged. “But maybe that’s okay.”

Bristol had rolled away from him then, because when he touched her she lost her train of thought. Possibly also her mind.

“Not for me,” she’d said, and had left him there to head into the shower.

They had spent a few more days on the island but Lachlan hadn’t brought up renegotiation again.