Page 118 of One to Watch

“I said to give me twenty, who’s in here?” Lauren called.

Bea tried to scramble out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible, but she wasn’t fast enough—Lauren came out of the bathroom and flipped on the light.

Luc was right behind her.

“Oh fuck, Bea.” Lauren stepped toward her, still buttoning her shirt. Luc stood stock-still, looking dumbstruck.

Bea closed her eyes. “This isn’t happening. Even my luck can’t possibly be this bad.”

“Bea, I’m so sorry,” Lauren spluttered, “you can’t imagine—I’m absolutely humiliated right now.”

“Oh, I think I can imagine exactly how humiliated you feel,” Bea said coldly.

“Shit.” Lauren brought her hands to her temples. “Bea, you have to believe me, I never intended for you to find out about this—”

“And what?” Bea laughed, feeling crazy. “What, it was just totally fine for you to sleep with Luc behind my back as long as I didn’t know it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Clearly, I wasn’t!” Lauren pleaded. “We were just talking one night, early in the season, before you were actually trying to date any of these guys, and I know it’s cliché—believe me, I know how ridiculous I sound right now. But we’d both been drinking, and, well, you know how Luc is. It just happened.”

Bea set her jaw. “It’s not early in the season now.”

“I know.” Lauren agreed. “I know I should have stopped this the second it started. It’s just—you do something once, and then twice, and then it gets easier and easier to justify going on with it. And with how mixed your feelings were for Luc, I never imagined he’d still be here this late in the game. I thought my thing with him would end when you sent him away.”

“Is that why you told me to send him home last week?” Bea demanded. “To make this easier for yourself?”

“Partly, maybe,” Lauren admitted. “But also because I know you’re looking for a committed relationship, and I obviously know that Luc can’t give that to you.”

Bea turned toward Luc for the first time in the conversation. It hurt just to look at him, to take in the mouth, the arms, the body that had been intertwined with hers only a few hours prior. His eyes were downcast now, his face clouded with guilt and shame.

“Is that what you thought too?” she asked. “That a relationship wasn’t possible for us?”

“Non,” Luc spoke softly. “For me, you are very special.”

“How special can I be if you’re sleeping with other people?” Bea asked bitterly.

“And you are not?” he countered. “You were with two other men just this week!”

Bea’s face burned—she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that, as a matter of fact, she wasn’t.

“Bea”—he took a step toward her—“you must believe that with us, it is different. With Lauren, with other women—”

“There are others?” Bea interjected.

Luc sighed. “For me, this was just fun, yes? Just a way to pass the time. But with you, the way we talk, the way I feel when I am with you … This makes me so happy, my Bea. Don’t you think we could be happy together, after all of this is done?”

“Does that happiness include you sleeping with other people?”

“For me, love is not possessive,” he said simply. “I would never ask this of you, and I hope you would not ask it of me.”

She looked at him, wondering how it was possible they’d never discussed this. Was she foolish to feel hurt? Did she even have a right to assume some modicum of monogamy while she was openly dating two other people?

“Bea,” Lauren broke in, “I need to say again how truly sorry I am.”

“I can’t,” Bea interrupted. “I’m sorry, I just—I need some time, okay?”

Bea willed her body into motion. She walked out of Room 108 and back into the hall, through the lobby, and to the elevator that would take her up to wardrobe. As she waited, she realized with bitter irony that her visit with Lauren had precisely its intended effect: Bea now knew without a doubt exactly who she was going to send home.

Three hours later, Bea was standing in the hotel’s lovely courtyard surrounded by marble fountains and intricate topiaries under an overcast sky, wearing a curve-hugging Brandon Maxwell black velvet wrap dress with a low neckline and a high slit, her hair in sleek Veronica Webb waves, lips painted vivid red: Miss Scarlet in the conservatory with a knife. Sam, Asher, and Luc were standing in front of her—Sam looking nervous but excited, Asher tight-lipped and tense as he always was at these ceremonies, Luc staring down at the ground.