Page 41 of Between the Lines

“You’re about to speak,” I say. “Right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have notes?”

“No,” he says. “I’m going to wing it.”

“Really?”

“Your confidence is inspiring,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply… You’re probably a great public speaker.”

“Oh, the flattery. It’s too much,” he drawls.

“I don’t think you need flattery,” I say with a smile. “You have a driver, two assistants, and an entire building filled with employees.”

“Don’t sound so jealous, Chaos.”

That makes me blink. “I’m not jealous of your life.”

We reach our chairs, and he motions for me to take a seat. He sits down beside me with a glass of champagne still in his hand, eyes on the man waiting on the stage for people to simmer down.

“Well, then I need to step it up as a memoir subject,” he says. His profile is strong, his mouth quirked. “You need to do what I do, right? How about we sky jump tomorrow?”

“Aiden,” I protest.

“Afraid of heights? That’s too bad, Chaos. Who knows what deep, dark secrets I might spill while I’m airborne and hurtling toward the ground.”

“Probably not a single one,” I say. “How about a simple, quiet lunch where you actually answer my questions?”

“I’ve answered all of your questions.”

My hand reaches out, gripping his wrist through the fabric. “You’ve answerednone,Aiden. None.”

He blows out a breath, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re too pretty to be this damn inconvenient.”

My eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“I know you have questions. But you’re not getting access to any of my family members, and not to my friends, either. Possibly to my staff, but I’m still undecided.” A hush falls over the crowd, but he’s still talking, his voice deep and low. “It’s nothing personal, Chaos.”

“Nothingpersonal,”I repeat in a hiss. “This is my job! How else am I supposed to take it?”

“You just said it. It’s a job,” he says. “Just do yours.”

“I’mtrying,butyouare my job.” My hand tightens around his wrist. “You’re saying that you?—”

“Aiden Hartman!” a loud voice says. It sounds strained. “Do we have him in the audience?”

I release Aiden’s arm immediately.

He curses under his breath—a tiny, muttered thing that only I hear. Then he stands and gives a wave out to the gathered crowd, a wide smile on his face. Takes the stairs to the stage with brisk steps and accepts the microphone from the host.

Aiden gives the audience a moment of silence before he speaks. There’s a large arch of flowers behind him, along the charity’s logo. “Sorry about that, folks. My beautiful date is more than a little distracting.”

I glare at him. He really isn’t planning on helping me, not even a little bit. And he doesn’t even have the courtesy to tell me why.

Irritation is a firebrand beneath my skin.

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