Page 130 of Pretender

“Hey,” he says. “Linnea, this is one of the investors I work with on my City of London property development projects. We’ve known each other for—how many years now?”

“Ten-ish,” the man says. “Hi, Chase Langston, pleasure to meet you.”

“Linnea Fredriksen,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’m the interior designer for Aiden’s establishments.”

“Wow, well done! These places are spectacular.”

Aiden slips a hand around my waist. “And she’s my girlfriend.”

“I see,” Chase says. “Something better indeed,” he adds in a low voice, raising an eyebrow at Aiden, and Aiden tightens his arm around my waist.

Hold on, so what they were talking about earlier had something to do with … girlfriends? I run through what I heard. He won’t be going there because he has something better going on. Which is me, if I understood that correctly. Fuck, I hate how my muscles tense in that familiar way at all the questions I have.

Aiden says goodbye to his friend, and I nod farewell, not paying attention. Fucking hell, I push one thing away and then another comes up. I’m so confused. He kisses my cheek, and I close my eyes, breathing him in. I don’t want to be confused.

“Hope it’s okay I came here,” I say. “Thought I’d let you avoid traffic for once.”

“I love that you’re here,” he says.

“Can we go home to yours?” I ask, trying my best to mask my concerns, but Aiden searches my eyes, scanning my face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Let’s go to yours. Are you finished for the day?”

“There’s one thing I need to do. Are you okay to wait at mine? I won’t be long.”

I twiddle the fabric of my dress between my fingers. Just ask, Linnea. Get the words out.

“What place was he talking about?”

“Who?”

“Your friend, Chase. I didn’t mean to, but I overheard something about a place he saw you. It sounded so secretive.” I try to laugh, but it comes out strained.

Aiden blinks, and he smiles, but it’s one of his casual ones, the well-rehearsed kind. “I can’t talk about that here, but it’s nowhere important. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

“See you at my place in half an hour or so?” he asks, brushing my upper arms with his soft, large hands that I love so much.

“Yes.”

I’m awkward and I hate it. It’s not meant to be awkward with Aiden. But my brain is buzzing now, it’s just too much. His dad, the Italian guy last week, and this. This better just be me and my wild imagination. Or he might not be the Aiden I want him to be. What if I’m doing it again—letting myself be charmed by someone who will turn on me later? My chest stings. I don’t want to think this of Aiden. But he seems different right now and I can’t understand why.

“See you later,” I say. “I’ll head to yours.”

He cups my face and brushes a kiss to my lips, and I try to act normal as I say goodbye and walk outside. The evening breeze on my bare arms reminds me I didn’t put on a jacket because I wanted him to see the dress.

He didn’t notice it.

I turn to the door as if it brings me closer to him.

“Are you coming back inside, Linnea?” the doorman asks.

“No, I’m not.” I wave and walk away, but I stop not far up the street.

Aiden always notices me.