Page 64 of Between the Lines

“Yes, you are.” He comes up beside me, dips his head until his mouth is right by my ear. “I have done things like this before.”

My stomach sinks, and the glamorous setting around us feels just a bit off.Oh.This is routine, then. A small sigh escapes me before I can stop it.

His voice drops. “With my mother, when I was too young to escape. Sometimes with Mandy, when she drags me along. No one else, Chaos.”

I look up at him. He’s watching me closely. He has seen my disappointment, the flare of jealousy. Saw all of it.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Aiden…”

“Mr. Hartman and Ms. Gray!” A beautifully clad woman comes toward us. Behind her are two other attendants; one carrying a tray of champagne and water. “Welcome, welcome. Let’s start the fitting—movie premiere at short notice. Is that correct?”

Aiden puts a hand on my lower back. “Yes. I doubt you have anything as beautiful as Charlotte, but I’d like you to try.”

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a dazzling array of dresses hung on a clothing rack by the elaborate dressing rooms. “I only need one,” I say, but my hand is gliding over the fabrics. Some are soft as silk, others are elaborately woven gems.

Aiden is sitting on a plush sofa right by the changing rooms.

“How much time do we have?” I ask him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He’s got a glass of champagne in his hand, and his long legs are spread out in front of him. Suit pants.Brown shows. I look at his outfit with a faint frown. “You’re still in your suit from work.”

“Indeed I am.”

The attendant pulls the curtain aside to the dressing room behind me, and I step inside. “Will you wear it later?” I call.

“No.” There’s an amused lilt to his voice. “I’ll go home and change when you go to the place next door.”

“What place next door?” I wriggle out of my cardigan and the dress I’d worn today. Even the lighting is amazing in this store. I look good in the floor-length mirror, and I rarely do in fitting rooms.

My hair is a mess, brushed back into a low ponytail. Maybe I can throw it up into a ballerina bun?

“It’s a salon. They’ll do your hair and makeup, Chaos.” There’s a brief pause. “If you want it. God knows you don’t fucking need it.”

“Oh.” I step into a dress. It’s a slinky, sexy thing, with a fully open back. It doesn’t feel like me in the least. But the attendant had insisted I try it on.

There’s no price tag on it.

There’s no price tag on any of the other dresses, either.

I recall the game I’d played with his house and start a similar one here. Two thousand dollars? Three?Maybe four, I think when I see the built-in hidden zipper.

A salon. Despite the nerves, excitement swells within me at the thought. I’ve never been to a movie premiere. There’ll be a ton of people there, and while they’re all industry figures, there’s one guarantee—every single one of them is more famous than my brief fifteen minutes in the spotlight.

“Chaos.” His voice is closer, right by the edge of the curtain.

“Yes?”

“Do you want my opinion on these dresses? If not, I’ll run back home to get a tux right away. Beat the traffic. The storealready has my card—I’ve told them to put anything you want on it.”

I pull back the curtain. “No, that’s smart. I can choose one of these. Meet you outside the salon later?”

His gaze drifts over my body. There’s a widening of his eyes. I look down, too.

Oh.Right. This dress has the skimpiest of top parts, a deep V-neck that disappears between my tits. It’s worth a fortune, but is hardly more than a drape of expensive silk, leaving me bare on the top and pooling on the ground.

“I don’t think this one is a winner,” I say.

Aiden shakes his head slowly. “No, neither do I,” he mutters. “Because I won’t be able to concentrate if you’re on my arm looking like that.”

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