Page 52 of Between the Lines

“Chaos.” He shakes his head. “You think I’d bring women over while you’re living here?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I ask back. “I’m just your ghostwriter. You’re just my subject. It’s your house. There’s nothing stopping you.”

“Right. And we’re just professionals,” he echoes, but he’s closer now than he was a few moments ago. “I remember.”

“We shook on it.”

“We sure did.”

He doesn’t look away. Neither do I, determined not to be the first to waver. On the railing, his hand is close to mine. Only inches away. “I won’t bring dates here,” he says, “and neither will you.”

That’s easy for me to agree to. I haven’t thought about dating since I arrived in LA. There’s been no free space in my mind for it.

He takes up all of it.

“Celibacy it is,” I say and extend my hand.

Aiden looks at it for a long moment before shaking his head with wry amusement. “That’s the last thing I would want to shake hands with you on, Chaos.” But he fits his large hand to mine, and a rush of heat races through me at the contact. “To not dating anyone else.”

“That’s not what I said,” I whisper. But our hands bob, intertwined.

His lips curve. “Isn’t it?”

CHAPTER 19

AIDEN

I cross my arms over my chest. “Not going to happen.”

Charlotte’s eyes are defiant. She’s sitting at my kitchen table, the remnants of the takeout I ordered for our dinner between us. “We have to go into those topics in the book. They’re crucial for understanding your story.”

“I have worked very hard toget awayfrom that narrative.”

“This narrative will help you.”

“It’ll put the conviction right back into the public spotlight,” I say. It had taken months—years—to have news headlines about Titan Media that were not just negative.

“I understand that,” Charlotte says. Her intelligent, blue eyes hold the same frustration I feel. Her notepad, the one she loves to scribble in during our conversations, is beside her laptop. “It will have to be done tactfully. Just listen to me for a second, okay?”

“I am listening.”

Her lips quirk slightly, a clear indication that she doesn’t think I’m paying attention at all. I lean back in my chair and fold my arms across my chest.

“The people who’ll buy this book… Will they already know about the conviction? The trial and your father’s sentencing?”

I grind out the word. “Yes.”

“Okay. So by mentioning it in your memoir, you’re not telling them anything they don’t already know.”

“You’re speaking to me like I’m five, Chaos.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, but that might be necessary sometimes.”

“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows. Reluctant amusement pricks through the frustration. “By all means, continue then.”

“Okay, so, we won’t be telling them something they don’t know. Instead, you’ll be reframing their views. Have you read the studies on memory? That we can actively change how we remember certain events over time?” She holds up her notepad. “With this book, you can do that to the minds of thousands of people!”

“Haveyouread the studies on memory?” I ask. “Because, it’s also said that the more you repeat something, the more it sticks.”

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