If I continue on the same track as last night, Eva will probably gush about me enough that Murphy won’t have any choice but to accept my victory.
My eyes flick to the package on the armchair in the corner. Anticipation ripples through me as I picture how I’ll hand it over to Eva when I invite her to the ball. I spent almost as much time choosing the perfect shade for her dress as I usually dedicate to writing my yearly report for Mother. I don’t know why, but I want Eva to feel as ravishing as a fairy-tale princess when she wears it.
And as unwilling as possible to refuse my present because she likes it so much.
Murphy follows my glance and pulls his nose into a wrinkle of suspicion. “What’s that box?”
“Office staples.”
“Fancy packaging.”
“Rachel orders my supplies from a high-end paper producer,” I say dryly.
I could easily tell Murphy that it’s a gift for Eva as a token of thanks once she accepts to be my plus one for the ball. But given our previous exchange, Murphy might try to turn my choice of purple color to compliment Eva’s complexion into something else.
Murphy doesn’t look convinced. “Staples wrapped with a pink ribbon?”
I shrug. “Rachel felt particularly flamboyant after I told her to go with her mother. She must’ve added that touch to the box before leaving it here.”
Murphy’s eyes move back to me. “Okay, then. I think we’ve discussed what I came here for.”
“And what was that again?”
“To see how you are doing. As your brother, I’m concerned how you’re coping with the challenge I’ve given you.” He smiles, but it’s a cool, asymmetrical smirk.
Is he upset about my obvious fib about the package? Or was my aunt right all along, and Murphy’s main objective isn’t to sabotage my promotion so much as to teach me a life lesson which he thinks I’m failing at?
I decide not to question his weird mood. It’s Murphy, after all. He’ll come out with it sooner or later if it really bugs him. “Okay then, Murphy. I have a meeting in twenty minutes anyway, and then I’m heading over to Eva’s house.”
“A lunch with her?” His insinuating tone might as well be saying, “Are you lying to me, brother?”
I exhale. “Murphy, please, don’t do this. I’m not a fan of saying one thing but thinking another. You know that. I told you, and I repeat—I am not falling for Eva. So stop assuming that I am. That’s not an aspect you need to keep a tail on.”
As the words roll off my tongue they feel… rotten. Almost foul. And I feel a jerk for saying them. Have I been lying to myself when I called my feelings for Eva attraction? They’re probably more than that already. Otherwise I wouldn’t feel this stab in my chest.
Okay, but even if they are, there’s no need to stick them into any specific category—especially not in one starting with the letter L.
Naming each and every desire is perhaps a useful practice with Murphy’s patients, but in a normal, well-functioning man like me, it only creates mental confusion. I won’t label what I feel for Eva. Just endure it till this bet is over.
Murphy nods, his face sobering. “Very well. I’ll stop. My whole attention will be devoted to checking Eva’s feelings for you at the ball. It’s in two days, so you better make sure your lunch goes smoothly and lovingly.”
I ignore his cynical last words. “How will you go about testing her?”
Murphy sniffs. “The situation will offer the best method for that. But I’m considering asking her a few revealing questions.”
A scene where my brother goes up to Eva and spills the beans to her about the bet appears in front of me, and my chest contracts as if lightning has slammed into me. “Will you tell her about…that I’ve lied to her?” As I wait for his answer, I’m holding my breath.
Murphy eyes me with a brow raised. “I won’t. It would be counterproductive if I want to get to the root of her devotion for you.”
Relief floods through me. “Ah, good,” I murmur.
“I thought you wouldn’t care about it. Given that you don’t love her.”
“I still don’t want to hurt her. And finding out the truth would do that.”
Murphy presses his lips into a line. “I see.” Then he shifts his weight and puts a hand on his chest. “By the way, brother, I completely understand you. Eva is a beautiful woman, but she isn’t from our social class. Perhaps I should have found an even more challenging and desirable candidate for you if I wanted to make this bet a real pain for you. I’ve given you too much of an easy task.”
Easy task? What’s Murphy even talking about? “Eva might be poor, but it doesn’t make her less of a challenge or less of a wonderful person. On the contrary. She sees many nuances in life that you or I would never even perceive. There couldn’t be any girl who would entice me more than Eva. No, Murph, Eva is the right choice.”
Murphy purses his lips, and I realize that I’m gushing.
“Interesting,” he says, “so Eva is the right choice…but you don’t love her. I see. It makes perfect sense.”
The way my brother’s shoulders pull back like a peacock about to open his feathers, raises my doubts as to whether Murphy’s whole speech is some kind of reverse psychology. If it is, he has got me messed up big time. Right now, I’m not sure what I’m feeling or thinking anymore.
But I still remember what to tell Murphy if I don’t want him to see my confusion. “For this bet, I mean. She’s the right choice for this bet,” I mumble.
Murphy puts his hands together, arranging each of his fingertips perfectly aligned on the other. “Yes, yes. I’m
