Page 172 of Between the Lines

“I’m speaking to you now.”

That makes me laugh. “Yeah, but it’s a little too late, don’t you think?” I move to shut the door, but he holds up his hand and catches it neatly.

“Charlotte,” he says fiercely. “Don’t run away from me.”

“I need time alone,” I say. “Can I have that in the guest room, or do I need to leave?”

He takes a step back. “It’s not a guest room. It’syourroom.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I say and close the door. I lock it, too, knowing he can clearly hear the sound on the other side.

CHAPTER 61

CHARLOTTE

I don’t leave my room until I know he’s definitely left for work the next morning. It’s well after eleven when I finally venture out and find the place deserted.

Walking down the elegantly decorated hallway, the decadently wide staircase, and into the spacious living room. His home has always felt too large for one person, too empty. It’s beautiful but a bit soulless. Like he doesn’t truly live here.

His family house in Malibu, the one he’d taken me to… that felt more like him.

Here, even with the mementos everywhere, ones that his sister must have left when she decorated, the space feels cold. I wrap my arms around myself and look at it all. The wine in his cellar. Years of vintage. The pictures on the giant bookcase by his living room couch.

Everything has changed. Everythingwillchange.

Finally, when I can’t delay it any longer, I sit down at my computer and click open the manuscript. The one that I’ve temporarily namedTitan, Rising.

I’ve written the title in thick, bold font on the first page. Below, the outline of the various chapters.

Seventy-five thousand words.

It’s as much about Titan Media as it is about Aiden. But the chapters about him had been my favorite to write. I spent the past few days rereading some of the chapters and revising the weaker ones. The document needs to go to Aiden before it goes to the Board or my editor.

When I’m done, it’s almost two. I send the entire manuscript to the closest printing house and let them know I’ll pick it up within the hour.

My phone rings while I’m on my way back, and connects to my car speakers via Bluetooth. It’s Eric.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Ms. Gray,” he says. There’s a long pause that’s unlike him. “There’s a picture of you and Mr. Hartman on the front page ofStar Buzz.”

“What?”

“A picture of the two of you. I’m not sure where or when it was taken, but it’s unmistakably you. It has been connected to your… past.”

The words land like a ton of bricks. Directly onto my chest, weighing me down.

“There’s no mention of the memoir. Just that you two are now dating,” he says.

“Does… Aiden know?”

“Yes. We’re monitoring the situation. It was just published.”

My hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Thanks for telling me.” My voice sounds reedy and thin, and not like my own. I hang up and pull over into the first parking lot I spot in Westwood.

I type my name into the search bar of my phone with shaky hands. Charlotte Gray. The results are a few passing mentions of me as the ghostwriter of memoirs.

It was a pleasure to work with Charlotte…

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