The Pleasure Contract by Caitlin Crews (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

“Isn’t that what everybody’s looking for?” she’d asked softly. “If the world was better at real, there’d be a lot less lonely.”

And though Catriona hadn’t said anything else that night, the interaction had stayed with Bristol.

Haunting her all the way to Hong Kong.

Even flying into a city so hectic was an adventure, especially in the downpour of a humid Chinese summer. Bristol stared out the plane’s windows at the bristling skyscrapers as they came in for their landing, as if Hong Kong wasn’t simply a single city but every city, packed into all those endless jutting buildings. As usual, Lachlan left her after they disembarked so he could go directly into his business meetings.

Meaning Bristol was once again stranded in a car with the officious and passive-aggressive Stephanie, who had taken to reading out her lists of instructions because she knew Bristol had no intention of following them.

Outside the windows, the Hong Kong weather seemed to highlight the press of so many people, the buildings piled high. Some part of Bristol found it exhilarating. Another part of her found the tumult of it all a bit hard to process after the serenity of the island.

But it was harder and harder to tell how she felt about anything. Bristol tried her best to feel nothing at all.

“Are you listening to me?” Stephanie demanded as the car inched through traffic.

Bristol looked over at her and smiled. Serenely. “I think you know perfectly well that I’m not.”

The other woman let out a huff of outrage. “This can’t continue, Bristol. Do you know how many women I’ve seen sit where you’re sitting? Here’s a newsflash. Each and every one of them thought they were special, too.”

“Stephanie. Look at me.” Bristol waited until she did. Stephanie had to be twenty years older than she was, trim and capable and currently so tense it was surprising she didn’t snap in half. “Your itineraries are suggestions. We both know it. There’s only one person who gives me orders and he’s made it clear he doesn’t care if I follow your agendas or not. That’s just a fact, so what’s the point of arguing about it, day in and day out? And what does it even matter? I’m only here for the summer. I’m sure the next one who comes along will bow to your every whim.”

“These are not my itineraries!” Stephanie looked stung. “They’re to help you do your job to the best of your abilities—and to Mr. Drummond’s satisfaction.”

“I admire what you do,” Bristol said, soothingly. And was surprised to find she meant it. “It can’t possibly be easy to corral a variety of women into this particular box, over and over. But rest assured, Lachlan is perfectly aware which one of the two of us is responsible for the way I dress and behave. If there’s a price to be paid, I’ll be paying it. Not you.”

And for a moment, it was quiet in the car. Only the cacophony of the sprawling city outside, pressing in against the windows.

“He treats you differently,” Stephanie said, and for once, Bristol could detect no trace of snideness or passive aggression in her voice. It made her blink. “To be honest, Bristol, you’re the first one who makes me think I might be out of a job soon.”

Despite herself, Bristol felt her pulse pick up. Something in her stomach twisted, but not in a bad way. If she didn’t know better—if she didn’t know how futile it all was—she might have thought it was hope.

“There’s no chance of that,” she said quietly, forcing herself not to clear her throat. Because it would be much too telling. “I suspect you’ll have your job for a long time to come.”

And she made herself sit there for the rest of the ride across the city, imagining all the future women who would be sitting right where she was. It wasn’t torture—on the contrary, she found it soothing. They would come and go like the tide. They would take up space beside her in the lower paragraphs of those tabloid articles while above, the new girlfriends would wear lovely dresses in Paris, one after the next. And she would look back on this one, long, impetuous and out-of-character summer from the safety of her ivy tower and smile.

She hoped that no matter what happened, she would smile.

Later, as the breathlessly humid day edged toward a thick, hot evening, she waited for Lachlan in the bar of the hotel where they were staying. It was a quiet place, dark and inviting, but she didn’t choose one of the booths. She went instead to the dizzying sweep of windows, all offering astonishing views of the city, and found a high table there.

She almost felt as if she, too, was plump with neon and light and bursting at the seams with all the commotion far below.

The outfit that Stephanie had chosen for her tonight—and that Bristol had decided to actually wear, only partly because she thought she ought to extend an olive branch to the woman who was, like her, just doing her job—was the kind of pantsuit she’d seen famous women wear with ease and flair, but had never attempted herself. Because she’d never understood how they made what she took to be a rather dowdy bit of work attire into elegance in the first place.

Now she knew. Everything was different when it came from instantly recognizable fashion houses and was furthermore tailored to her precise measurements. And then paired with shoes that might as well have been works of art. Shoes so high they should have hurt her feet, but that, too, was apparently only a concern at her usual price points.

She’d seen her reflection in the elevator when it had hurtled down from another opulent penthouse suite and had thought she might as well have been a stranger.

This was what came of playing games with sex, she acknowledged now, smiling faintly when the waiter brought her the