Page 39 of The Princess and the Fraud

“He buttered my bread the other day.”

“Thatsounds like a euphemism if I ever heard one.”

I shot her a flat stare.

“So, he buttered your bread.” She shrugged. “Big deal. Small things like that really touch you, Lovey? If I buttered your roll for you, would your heart flutter too?”

My nose scrunched. “Who said anything about hearts fluttering?”

Because thatdefinitelyhadn’t been what happened. And even now, when Aaron caught me, my heart didn’t do anything because ofhim. I had almost fallen and broken my neck. Or at the very least, my wrist. That would’ve made anyone’s heart skip a beat.

“Did he do any other things that made himlikeable? I’ll be very disappointed if you developed a crush and didn’t tell me, Lovey.”

“It’snota crush.” My insistence started to turn into vehement denial—and I knew if I disagreed any firmer, she’d take it wrong. I was relieved I’d never told her about running into Aaron at the fire last year before Annalise’s wedding. She’d never have let it go. “I have to take the ladder back to storage before someone else runs into it.”

“Wait.” Caroline caught at my arm, blinking her dark lashes at me. “Maybe we can talk… later? After your shift? About…you know.”

Again, the urge to resist rose within me, but I shoved it down. “Sure,” I said, giving her a tight smile. “My shift gets over at nine.”

“I’ll meet you after.”

After I took the ladder back to the storage closet, I set off to find Mrs. Pine for my next assignment. I hoped, foolishly so, that she’d just send me to another department. I would’ve takenanyof them, honestly. Even laundry.

Of course, I wasn’t that lucky.

Guests began arriving in a steady stream, and the chatter of women replaced Mrs. Holland’s cries. Mrs. Pine shoved a tray of pickled cucumbers and radish twists into my arms, sending me out to the masses.

I milled about the room, approaching groups, waiting for them to lock gazes with me. When they didn’t, I continued on. Days like this, wandering around like a ghost in a room full of people, always made the time pass so slow. I had nothing to distract me but my thoughts.

Annalise stood with The Monarchs near the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding her mother’s hand, with Michael sipping at a glass of punch at her side. Caroline was mingling with The Chatterboxes, Aaron and Fiona beside her, nodding along.

I stood on the outskirts watching them, wondering what they were saying. Was Aaron listening, engaging? Did he find the conversation fulfilling, or did he find it chittering nonsense? Aaronlookedlike he belonged in this world—and he’d act like it, if people were watching—but he’d bashed Alderton-Du Ponte enough times to make it obvious that a part of him didn’t want to fit in. Now, as he smiled and murmured to whatever Ms. Jennings was saying, I wondered how he truly felt.

Don’t you ever wish you could be a part of it?Paige had asked the other day.Partying on the dancefloor instead of serving it?

With Grant, I’d always wished to be the one hanging off his arm at events, the one he went around introducing. I wanted to be wearing a glistening dress beside him, inside the bubble rather than outside of it. Now, though, I didn’t want to be in that bubble at all—I just wanted someone on the outside with me.

My skin prickled, and the epicenter was the slice of my waist above my waistband, the exact spot Aaron’s middle finger had landed.

It was then that Aaron’s gaze drifted. Not to me, but to the piano in the corner. He lingered on it, even as the others were speaking around him, almost like the world had fallen away for a moment. His expression was locked down, save for a glimpse I barely caught.Longing.

I would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking.

And then Aaron looked over at me in that exact moment, catching me staring. The sunlight from the window behind him caught in his hair, almost making it seem golden brown. I blinked back into focus at the same time Mrs. Holland waved her hand into the air and beckoned me over. I tripped over my feet, inwardly cursing as I schooled my features.

“These pickled twists are divine,” Mrs. Holland told Aaron as I approached. She swiped up one cucumber twist and one radish twist. “Few else have suchrefinedtaste, but they’re just splendid.”

Aaron’s face twisted as the sharp taste overtook his tongue, the lemon spritzed on the vegetable making it even more sour. He tried to speak, but coughed, hiding it behind the back of his hand. “It’s certainly… unique.”

“Only the best for an Astor!”

He ducked his head. Fiona tucked herself closer to Aaron’s side, tracing his bare arm with her fingertips. “We’reverywelcoming, aren’t we?”

“How is your mother doing?” Mrs. Conan asked, and though her face still held a twinge of distaste—she hadn’t quite mastered the art of shielding her facial expressions, or maybe she just didn’t care—her voice was polite. “It was a joy to meet her last June.”

“She’s doing well,” Aaron replied. “She and my father are vacationing in Hawaii.”

“Who’s taking care of the business, then?” Mrs. Holland asked, as if a multi-million-dollar company were solely run by its CEOs. “Are all the Astors taking a vacation?”

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