Page 55 of Between the Lines

“And,” I add, leaning in, “maybe work on the recordkeeping, too. The date we met up in the gym was the nineteenth, not the fourteenth.”

“My records are always stellar,” she says, and her hand lands on my chest. It’s a firm, warm weight through the thin fabric of my button-down. “I know how to do my job. Maybe you should go to bed so you can do yours properly tomorrow.”

“It’s not that late.”

“It’s late enough,” she says and slides off the kitchen chair. I watch her walk toward the staircase with her notepad and laptop clutched to her chest. “Good night, Aiden,” she says over her shoulder.

“Good night, Chaos.”

It isn’t until I’ve closed my own bedroom door that I realize the implication of what she’d just said, and of her handwriting on those pages.

I dig into my back pocket for my wallet. I pull out the small piece of paper from Red Rock Resort with a phone numberwritten on it in slanted handwriting. If her fours look like nines… well, there’s a possibility she gave me her real number all along.

CHAPTER 20

CHARLOTTE

I’m in bed, face washed and mind exhausted, when I see the notification on my phone.

Unknown number

Hey. It’s Aiden from Red Rock Resort. Had a great time that night. Sorry it took me a while to text, your fours look kind of like nines. Hope that corporate guy in LA you went to work for isn’t too much of a dick.

I read it again, the shock settling into a dull sense of panic.

He had tried to call. But he must have gotten someone else or a number that wasn’t in service.

He had tried to call!

Had he thought I brushed him off? Given him a fake number?

I think back to our interaction over the tacos lunch.Are you asking for my number?he’d said in a low voice, almost sarcastic. I thought he was being an asshole. Reminding me of our previous interaction and how he asked for mine, only to never call. Never text.

Until now.

Your fours look kind of like nines.

They don’t.

Well, maybe a little. Especially if I’m writing quickly and looping my numbers together.

I turn onto my side and scan the message again.

This changes everything, and it changes absolutely nothing. I feel like I’m on needles. Energy sparks through me and makes my stomach clench.

That night we shared… It can never happen again. We both know that, and I know it more than him. He runs Titan Media, and knowingly or not, his family company orchestrated the destruction of my life. I’m never sleeping with Aiden again.

Even if the attraction is still there. I try to bury it with professionalism, covering it with shovels of distance. It certainly helps that he’s a master of being annoying. But it’s still there. At moments when his eyes spark or we’re arguing, I might as well be back in that resort restaurant.

Who’s the real Aiden?

The scruffy one next to the fireplace, with a leather jacket and a beard. Or the five-o’clock shadowed man in a suit who argues like it’s his job because it is.

My fingers type out a shaky response. I shouldn’t. I should delete his text and pretend it never arrived, pretend it didn’t reach me.

But we’re in this boat together. This memoir needs to be great, and there’s only a month and a half left.

He is a bit of a dick, I’m afraid. Don’t worry. I’m persevering. He has this giant house I get to stay at, so that’s a plus. Fabulous pool.

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