Page 16 of Between the Lines

Eric sits down in the chair across from Aiden’s desk, and motions for me to take a seat beside him. I do. My eyes never leave Aiden.

He still hasn’t shown an outward sign of recognition… but it’s there, glinting in his eyes.

“Ms. Gray is the writer hired to pen your memoir. Polar’s editor-in-chief, Vera Tran, was delayed by the storm over theEastern seaboard, or she would be here for this meeting, too,” Eric says. He looks at me, and it’s clear in the faint frown on his face that he is wondering why I’m silent. Why I haven’t said a single word.

I clear my throat.

“Hello,” I say.

Aiden’s lips curl a tiny fraction. “Hi.”

“It’s a… pleasure to meet you,” I say, and clear my throat. “I’m the writer connected to Polar Publishing. The one your company vetted and hired for this project. The book, I mean.”

“Yes. I’ve read your profile, Ms. Gray. You’ve ghostwritten memoirs for several high-profile individuals. Including a former member ofThe Real Housewives.”

There’s a faint note in his voice, and I wonder if it’s judgment.As if I haven’t heard it before.Anger flares to life inside me, chasing away some of my nerves. This company produces copious amounts of reality TV.

I would know.

“I did, yes. Frankie Swan’s book, just before her sentencing.”

“I can’t say I’ve read it.”

“I’d be surprised if you had.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “The CV I read mentioned the memoir by Matthew Bennett, the former US champion in cross-country skiing.”

“Yes. I spent a summer living near him and his family in Minnesota, and the result was a beautiful story about winning and the costs that come along with it.”

“I haven’t read that one, either.” Aiden won’t look away from me. Is he challenging me? Taunting me?

“Well, maybe you’re not a big reader,” I say.

There’s a small intake of breath from the assistant sitting beside me.Oh.Eric.

But Aiden doesn’t spare him a glance. “Maybe I’m not. Which book of yours should I pick up first?”

“Whichever interests you the most,” I say.I’m not intimidated,I think, and will that to be true. “Considering the scope of this project, perhaps the book I co-wrote with William Young about the rise and fall of his tech company. I think that would be most… relevant.”

“I know William. I asked him about his experience with you after I received your resume.”

My mouth dries out. I had provided references, of course, but had not expected the subject himself to be the one to vet them. Not with a team around him, and so much secrecy that I hadn’t even known his name until this very day.

I take another long breath. When in doubt, I’ve learned to use silence to buy myself time. “Well, since I’m here today, I assume the conversation went well.”

His lip curves. “Indeed it had. He said you were agreeable to work with, a quick writer, and amenable to making edits.”

Yes.Edits. William had certainly required more than his fair share—combing through chapter after chapter I’d written about him to polish away any shred of humanity until all that was left was a superhuman beacon of intelligence and character.

But that was the job sometimes.

“I’m glad he recommended me,” I say. But the main question still swirls. How the hell are we going to work together?

Are we just going to pretend like nothing happened between us?

He runs a hand along his jaw, and all I can see is when it was between my legs. I look down at my notes instead. I can’t believe he’s the CEO of Titan Media and I never knew.

The silence feels heavy.

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