Page 9 of Pretender

Oh God, I know way too much about this. Why do I even keep reading it? I should be reading the books Jamie keeps recommending.

“Yeah, they seem to be,” Aiden answers, staring blankly into the room. “I’ll have to look to some of the other places in London for inspiration to keep the privacy of The Orion up to standard after all the attention we’ve been getting.”

“Like where?” I ask. “Where can millionaires and the famous go without the paps or the bloggers picking it up?”

Aiden turns into the hallway that leads back to the entrance, but stops a few steps down, in front of a large, ornamental green door.

“If you don’t know already, I can’t tell you,” he says, grinning back at me, but his eyes don’t meet mine entirely. He’s probably awkward about having commented on the huge income difference between us. I’m farther from rich now than ever, and he just rubbed that in my face.

“Don’t worry, all your secrets are safe with me,” I say matter-of-factly.

Aiden coughs and opens the door.

“This door should stay, by the way,” I say, running my hand down the carved wood. It’s painted a glossy emerald. “It’s magnificent.”

Aiden’s gaze follows my hand over the floral relief. “Agree,” he says and walks through.

He flips the light switch on the inner wall and walks down before me. There’s no railing on the steep staircase, so he offers a hand.

“I’m okay,” I say, reluctant to cross that boundary. It’s been two years, and I’ve not touched Aiden since I shook his hand that first time.

He leaves his hand outstretched for a moment, but when I don’t move, he shrugs, dropping it to his side.

“So this is your basement nightclub space?” I ask, instead of acknowledging my weirdness, craning my neck to peer down without attempting the unsafe descent.

“This is it. I’ll get a temporary railing for these stairs so your team can scope it out safely when they’re ready. They can enter from the street as well.”

The space is small. With this and the ground floor, I can probably keep the team half-busy, or half the team busy, for about three months if I use my wages to cover the designers who aren’t on the project.

“Thank you, Aiden,” I say and offer him a rare smile. The words carry more weight today than ever before.

“Of course.”

Is he aware he’s throwing me a lifeline?

He juts his chin towards the door behind me, and I turn, walking up the stairs again. Extremely aware that my backside is pretty much in Aiden’s face, I step promptly up and out.

“Hey, Linnea, hold on,” he says when we’re back in the hallway.

“Yes?” I stop and turn to look at him, finding his eyes on me.

“Don’t tell anyone about this place yet. There are a few competitors lurking around.”

“Of course. We have an NDA.”

“Not even your boyfriend,” he says, waving towards the front door, and he’s got that face again. No smirk. No jokes. Is he having a bad day?

“My boyfriend?” I furrow my brow.

“Yes,” he answers, his voice gruff, and I’m taken aback.

I blink at him. “There’s no one to tell. It’s just me.”

He scans my hair and face.

“Right, I thought the lateness and the crazy bedhead meant you… Never mind, that’s none of my business.” Aiden laughs a weird bark of a laugh I’ve not heard before, and I brush a hand over my hair, gaping at him.

Is it that bad?