The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(62)

"Sorry," Gwen said, "I've just had a lot on my mind is all."

"I can tell. Actually, I wanted to ask you about that. How's the apartment hunt going?"

Gwen frowned. "What hunt?"

Beatrice watched the bartender pour the next shots before answering, "Well, you got your back rent all paid off, that's cool. But there's no way you can afford to stay in that apartment by yourself. So that means you've either got to find a new place, or get a new roommate to handle the other half of the rent. Which is it?"

That was unexpected. Gwen had just been so relieved to get those bills paid, and to come up with a good story for the money, that she hadn't really thought about it. These details just hadn't seemed so important.

And now she regretted coming up with that reward money story. Beatrice was right; what Gwen normally made really was just enough to cover her half of the expenses. Of course, the truth was that with what Aiden paid her she could easily afford to stay in that two-bedroom apartment all by herself.

If, she thought, I decide to keep going with all this. But that, again, was a different point. And one she couldn't tell Beatrice without risking the contract. The vodka went to her head quickly, making her thoughts fuzzy.

"So... which is it?" Beatrice said.

"Well... the reward covered this month's rent, too. I guess I haven't really thought about it."

B shook her head and laughed, trying not to spill any of the vodka from the shot glass she held so daintily between thumb and index finger. "Right. And I'm the one in this duo whose on academic probation... Gwendolyn Agnes Browning..."

"That's not my middle name. And what? Probation again? I thought you just got out of it!" Gwen said, glad for the change of subject. She chose to ignore the little jab in the comment, too.

"Why do you think I'm here drinking?" Beatrice replied, throwing her head back as she downed that shot, too.

"Because you like to go to bars to drink and get hit on?"

"Well... yeah. But also the probation. Drink up; this stuff isn't free! And stop trying to change the subject! Really, what are you going to do about next month's rent?" Beatrice said, forcing the shot glass into Gwen's hand.

Trying to buy some time, Gwen downed that shot. So much panicked adrenaline flooded her veins that she hardly felt the sting of the liquor going down her throat. What do I do? Gwen thought. I don't want to keep lying to B... I'm tired of all this lying.

But Gwen still felt afraid of how B might react and judge her. And also how B probably wouldn't be able to keep it to herself.

"So?" Beatrice said.

"I've, uh, got it covered."

"How?"

She thought she could tell Beatrice that Aiden gave her some money, but then reconsidered. Would that look better or worse than signing a contract to pretend to be his girlfriend? Probably better, she figured, but by how much? Both made her look desperate, or like a gold digger, or both.

Gwen shifted her butt on the barstool. Why did they have to make these things so uncomfortable? It felt like sitting on a slab of granite.

Luckily (unluckily?) for Gwen, a frat guy with a popped collar shirt came to the rescue. He leaned against the bar next to Gwen and let his elbows slide forward, which displayed his bare, waxed chest. Only the bottom two buttons on his shirt were done up. "Hey, babe," he said, "That dress is hot. And you are smokin'."

"Thanks, I guess," Gwen said. She hadn't really been expecting any sort of advances. The bar just seemed too quiet for it. Normally, she just passed these guys on to Beatrice, who was an expert at stringing them along for loads of free drinks. Gwen didn't really pity them for getting taken like that, figuring they got what they deserved.


Except that tonight was anything but usual. For one, she now had Aiden. She thought about how he said he was jealous when Liam flirted with her at the track. If only he were there now to see this guy hitting on her.

Usually, Gwen didn't enjoy this sort of attention. She'd gotten over the whole bar scene after her first year at school. If it weren't for Beatrice, she probably wouldn't really go to places like this anymore. Her standard role was that of wing man, sifting through the guys who came up and sending away the ones she didn't think B would like.

Take this guy, for example. Shirt already mostly undone, as previously mentioned. Frosted tips in his spiked hair, and a pair of sunglasses hanging off the back of his head. A real bro. Easily worth a couple free drinks and maybe even an appetizer or the like to Beatrice.

Except this time, Gwen didn't pass him on to Beatrice. "Hi," she said.

"What's your name?" the guy said.

"Gwen. You?"

"Lance," he replied. Of course it was going to be something like Lance. She bet he had a load of jokes about that ready to go, tucked up into his rolled-up sleeve.

"Nice to meet you," she said.

Lance didn't bother to try and sneak or steal glances at her. He was brazen, checking her out openly, appreciating her. He moved in closer, sensing acceptance. Some sort of cheap cologne or body spray wafted from him. "What are you doing later?" he said.

"I'm not sure, why?" Gwen replied. Alarm bells started ringing in her head, and she kept asking herself why she didn't just send him packing.

"Well, I know something we could do. It takes two, though. Sometimes three," Lance said, sending a wink over Gwen's shoulder to Beatrice, who in turn sat there dumbfounded as she watched the display.