Page 140 of Between the Lines

“Right. I am, you know. Technically speaking. As much as I hate myself for it, too.”

“You shouldn’t hate yourself.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “We should review your chapters.”

“We should talk about this.”

“Because we’re so good at talking about hard things?” I ask dryly. “Because we have wonderful little hearts-to-hearts?”

Aiden narrows his eyes, and he crosses his arms over his chest, too. Mirroring my stance. “I see,” he says, and it sounds like he truly does. “Let me ask you something, then. When you realized I was the memoir subject you had to write about... When you realized it was Titan Media… Why didn’t you back out of the contract?”

“I would have had to pay back the advance.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Not good enough.”

“Because I have another contract with my editor riding on this,” I say. “Perform well, and I get to pitch my own non-fiction book. You know that.”

His eyes are burning on mine. Like he won’t let me get away with fortifying my walls, or with running. Maybe I am a fool to think he ever would.

His presence scorches, and I’ve become addicted to the burn.

“The real reason,” he says and takes a step closer, “you didn’t walk away is because you love a challenge. You love the fight, you love the adventure. You didn’t walk away because you didn’twantto.”

My breathing speeds up. I hate that he sees that. Sees what my parents and best friend would callself-destructive, if they knew, and knows that it’s a part of me. Has become in the last few years.

“Just like you working eighty-hour weeks,” I say. “You don’t have to. Your family is fine. Your familynameis even fine, Aiden, if a bit tattered. I’ve seen how people still look up to you. Some are curious, but they don’t condemn you for what your dad did.” I take a step closer, too, until only a few feet separateus. “You do it becauseyoulike the challenge. Because it fuels you, and because you like the idea of punishing yourself. You’ve decided this is your cross to bear, and you would never put it down. You love it too much.”

He leans in. His green eyes have darkened with something that looks like relish. “I guess,” he says, “likerecognizeslike.”

My lips press together. I don’tlikethe cross I have to bear. Being recognized for the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

He sees the denial in my eyes, and his lips curve without humor. He hasn’t shaved today, and there are tired lines around his eyes. As if he didn’t sleep well last night, either.

“How much have you hated yourself,” he says, “for sleeping with me? The CEO of the company that, in your own words, hasruinedyourlife?”

I don’t answer him. I put a hand on his chest instead, meeting his gaze. “How much of my season did you watch last night?”

He leans his head down. “None of it. I only googled your old name.”

“Fuck you,” I say softly.

“It’s the truth,” he says. “I promised you. I also fired Jeff yesterday.”

My lips are so close to his. “You didwhat?”

“His time with this company is over. So is Blake’s, soon enough.” He brushes his lips against mine, and my hand on his chest turns, fingers gripping the collar of his shirt instead.

I feel too hot. Like I’m standing next to a furnace.

“If you’ve been worried,” I murmur, “that it might get out that your ghostwriter was once on reality TV, it’s never happened in the past.”

“I wasn’t.”

I pull him closer. “I go by my mother’s maiden name now.”

“It’s a good name.” His hands close around my waist, large and firm and trapping me entirely. “I want to hear the story from you.”

“I never want to talk about it.”

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