Page 134 of Between the Lines

“Yes. Don’t insult the question.”

He chuckles. “I won’t. All right, Chaos, if you’re sure you want to hear about it…”

Suddenly I’m not so sure. I didn’t think this through. But this is emotionless. Ishouldbe able to hear him talk about a woman from his past.

And besides, I’m here with him now, aren’t I?

That should be the only thing that matters.

“It was pretty unexpected,” he says and uses his thumbs to stroke circles over my hips, down to my lower stomach. “She was funny and direct. Beautiful, of course, but more than that. Intriguing.”

My stomach is tight. But I just nod. “Oh.”

“It was at a hotel, and we went back to her room.”

“Right.”

He leans forward, and his smile widens. “We played poker, and it turned into strip poker. She had a vibrator, and I got to use it between her legs while watching her in the mirror, and feeling her come around my fingers.”

My mouth falls open.

Aiden laughs and pulls me even closer. “You really thought I was talking about someone else? Never, Chaos. You’re the best sex of my life. Every fucking time.”

CHAPTER 48

AIDEN

Producers shuffle into the conference room.

Some I recognize, some I don’t. There are assistants there and some reality stars. They rarely attend, but a few of the bigger ones came to pitch their own shows.

I haven’t spent much time overseeing the reality TV department in the last few years. It’s become a successful juggernaut and our least prestigious offering. But the profits subsidize our larger ventures in news and network shows, not to mention the deal I almost closed for the streaming service.

The costs of producing reality TV are low, and the appeal for that type of entertainment is high.

A necessary evil.

Everyone files into the conference room, and a low chatter soon fills the room. Allison, our head of internal programming, walks in with a large binder in hand. “We’ve got some great new program suggestions,” she tells me and moves to sit down beside me.

I glance over my shoulder at Charlotte. She’s in a chair in the corner of the room, ready to sit in like she often does. Her laptop is propped open on her lap, and her fingers rest casually on the keyboard. I like having her near.

But her eyes are locked on the group of people taking a seat. There’s an odd expression on her face, like she’s a million miles away.

I head her way. “Hey. You okay?”

Her nail starts tapping against her computer. “Um, what kind of meeting is this? It said internal programming on the schedule.”

“Yes, it is, for the reality TV division. Producers will give updates and pitch new shows.” Being here is more of a formality for me. The content team will do most of the work. But Charlotte wanted to come along to see how internal programming worked at Titan, and I was happy to indulge her. “You’re shaking. Charlotte?”

“I’m going to sit this one out,” she mumbles and pushes past me, laptop tucked under her arm.

She beelines toward the door. Past the group of people.

That’s when someone stops her. “Hey—Is that you?”

It’s Jeff. One of the senior producers who’s been at the company for over fifteen years. He now spearheads several of our trashiest shows, ones with ratings high enough to justify his large bonuses.

I watched one episode of his, years ago, and never watched another.

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