Page 43 of Between the Lines

My eyes widen. “You’ve read it?”

“You recommended I do.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you would.”

“I am literate, you know, despite what you seem to think about me and my ego, or my ability to do things for myself.” His voice is frustrated. “If you’re going toleavein the middle of the night, at least tell me about it.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I wasn’t leaving,” I say. My arms are still tightly wrapped around me, but all it takes is a loose finger and my dress will come undone. “Idon’t just leave when things get tough.”

The implication is there. Thathedoes.

His eyes narrow again. “Neither do I. And why are you holding yourself like you’ve been hurt?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Sure you’re not.” A frown mars his lips, and he inspects my chest with terrifying scrutiny. “What… Fucking hell, Chaos, your dress is falling off.”

“Iknowthat,” I hiss, “which is why I left. I’m trying to fix it but it’s not going great.”

He looks over his shoulder, at the large room we just departed. We’re standing right by the exit, and there’s a good chance people will soon pass through here again.

He looks at the coat check clerk. “We just need a moment,” he says with complete confidence. “Thank you.”

Dropping his hand on my lower back again, Aiden walks us behind the counter and in between the mostly-empty rows of hangers. It’s warm enough that few people brought anything to check.

“I’ll help you fix it,” he says in a dark voice, “and you’re welcome to keep ranting at me while I do.”

CHAPTER 16

AIDEN

“I’m notrantingat you,” she says. “I’m just trying to understand. Why even invite me here if you’re not going to answer my questions? What game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing any games.” A few stray coats surround us, the fabric rustling when I brush past a rack. Charlotte’s soft waves kiss the tops of her shoulders, leaving her upper back bare. It’s an expanse of silky-looking skin.

And then there’s that green dress and the sides she’s still holding together as tightly as she can.

God, she’s frustrating.

Frustrating because I hadn’t planned on it beingherwhen I agreed to this stupid fucking scheme. It should have been some prim English Literature major—a man perhaps—who primarily reports on business. Not someone with an interest in getting to the heart of issues and finding the real person within.

And definitely not Charlotte.

Her anger is justified. But I’m not about to sell out my family and my private thoughts and feelings just to appease her, so angry she’ll have to remain.

“Yes, you are.” She comes to a stop at the far side of the room and turns to face me. Her cheeks are flushed with color.“You invited me here, insisted I come when I was only supposed to interview you in the car, and for what? To show off your donation? To jerk me around and play these… these… games?”

“I said I’m not playing games.” My voice comes out hoarse. “Now turn around and let me see the zipper.”

She does as I’ve asked, lifting her arm to show me a stretch of bare skin from below her armpit down to her waist.

She’s not wearing a bra.

I guess she wouldn’t have to with that tight-looking corset of a dress. Despite her clutching the front of the dress to her chest, the faintest hint of a curve is visible. And fuck if I don’t perfectly remember the weight and feel of her small tits.

“If you’re ogling me, I swear to god, Aiden?—”

“I’m not,” I say gruffly and reach for the slider. It looks fine, but… it’s on the wrong side of the fastener. Like the teeth of the zipper itself had just burst.

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