***
I was walking around the cabin with a mug of freshly brewed Columbian coffee in my hand. The place was huge, and with Luke still sleeping in the bedroom upstairs, I felt like I was completely alone.
I climbed the stairs to the second floor, the feel of his soft plaid shirt comforting against my skin. This cabin, which wasn’t even Luke’s actual home, seemed to give me a sense of how he lived in his real life. This time with me was only an alternate reality for him, and I needed to remind myself of that. I grazed my fingers along the velvet-smooth walls as I walked down the hallway. I was imagining Luke’s home, with his chocolate-crazed cousin and his mother who slept with her fur coat at night.
I could picture Luke standing at the end of the hall with his arms open, calling out to me. I had never met a kinder man, even though he was also the most handsome and the richest I knew. He made me feel warm and safe, special. Like he had eyes only for me.
All my insecurities from the previous day had vanished. It was true that Luke didn’t know everything about me or my background, but he didn’t seem to care. He hadn’t pressed me about my past; he wasn’t curious. It seemed like he was interested in only me and our time together.
I kept walking until I came to a room at the end of the hall, directly below the bedroom upstairs where Luke was still sleeping. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it farther, sipping from the mug again. The coffee scalded my throat as it slid down, filling me with warmth and a caffeine-stimulated tingling sensation.
The room I had entered was a study/library. The walls were lined with books. In the center of the room was a large wooden table, polished and stacked with files and more books. A plush green leather chair was on one side facing me, and I could almost picture Luke sitting in it. An open laptop faced the chair as I walked around the table to it. I couldn’t help but slide into that chair. It was inviting me over; I couldn’t say no.
I sank into the soft and welcoming seat, and I placed the mug on the table and closed my eyes. Luke sure led a luxurious life. I could see that he was rich beyond measure, that I couldn’t possibly predict the amount of money he had. Did I want to know?
The black screen of the laptop teased me as I blinked at it. I sat back up in the chair and breathed in heavily. My fingers were clenching and twisting around on my lap. Maybe I could peek a look at his laptop. Maybe it was password protected and I wouldn’t be able to see anyway. Was there anything to see? Was Luke hiding something from me?
My fingers hovered for a second over the keyboard. Why was I suspicious again? I knew this was wrong. I was a guest here. Luke had opened the cabin and his life to me, and it would be evil for me to snoop around. I hadn’t pressed a key yet; my soul was torn between my curiosity and what I knew was morally wrong to do.
But then my eye fell on a magazine cover tucked under the laptop. It piqued my curiosity, because Luke’s piercing lava-black eyes peered out at mine. I tugged the magazine out, and my heart sank.
The cover was of Vincent Stoltz. In a gray suit, his hand on his cuff, adjusting a gem-studded cufflink. His usually ruffled dark hair was slicked back and neat. He was clean shaven and barely recognizable. His eyes were the same though. He had posed for the photograph and had a stethoscope around his neck.
The cover was captioned: The most eligible bachelor in the country also makes breakthrough medical discovery, more on page 3…
My hands shook as I flipped the magazine over to the third page.
The man sleeping upstairs, the man who I had spent the night with, was Vincent Stoltz. The billionaire doctor and entrepreneur who had discovered the cure for Coeliac Disease. The article spanned four pages, and I scanned it hurriedly with my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to read all of it, but there was no doubt now that Luke and Vincent were the same man. How could I have been so foolish? He’d thought so little of me he hadn’t even given me his actual name.
When I’d researched Vincent Stoltz, I had focused on boring medical journals that were printed with no pictures of the man’s face. I’d had no clue about his personal history. It seemed all I’d had to do was pick up any fashion magazine, and I would have known.
Pictures of two women in the article caught my eye.
One was designer Sarah Popov, and the other was socialite Maria Smirnov. Both women were rich and came from aristocratic Russian families. Just like Vincent Stoltz. He was rumored to be engaged to one of them, and the media was in a frenzy trying to guess which girl. Millions of hearts would break if the rumors were true and Vincent was indeed engaged to be married. The playboy would be throwing in his towel soon and settling down.
I couldn’t read anymore. I flung the magazine to the floor and stood up from the chair. Everything I had read in the magazine had come as a shock. I had no idea who I had really spent the night with. Luke—Vincent—wasn’t just an ordinary stranger. I had been foolish enough to fall into the trap of the country’s most notorious playboy.
Still in his shirt, still barely clothed, I ran out of the study. My mom was right; I should have gone straight home. I should never have given this man a chance.