Page 69 of The Princess and the Fraud

Without hesitation, Grant crossed the final step to me. He picked my hands up in his large ones and drew me to my feet, not seeming to notice how much strength he had to use to do so. It was instinct that I gripped his fingers tighter, if only to keep my knees from folding.

“I was going to go to your apartment tomorrow,” Grant murmured, eyes scanning my face. “I’ve tried finding your profiles on social media, but—well, I think I’m still blocked.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I almost resorted to emailing.”

Ironically, that was the one place I hadn’t thought to block him from. If he’d sent an email, I would’ve gotten it.

But the intimacy ofI was going to go to your apartment tomorrow—as if the last time we’d seen each other was a few weeks, not six months ago. As if we parted on amicable terms, and not because I’d found him shoving his tongue down another girl’s throat. As if we’d never broken up in the first place.

This cannot be happening.

Grant gave me his signature pearly white grin that used to make me melt. “Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t, actually.”

It wasn’t my voice, but Aaron’s. His tone was casual, even bored. Grant jolted at it, hands spasming around mine, as if he’d forgotten the momentary glance he and Aaron had exchanged the second he saw me. Grant blinked at Aaron, who still sat with his legs stretched out on the ground. “And… who are you?”

Aaron seemed to decide it’d be appropriate to rise to his feet. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Grant, who towered at a staunch six-two, but somehow didn’t seem to look up at my ex. Maybe because, even though the space of the elevator was small, it still seemed like he commanded it. “I’m Aaron Astor,” he replied, offering a hand out. “Lovisa’s fiancé.”

Ha. No, really.Ha. I was officially in shock.Did I hit my head?I was dimly aware of the elevator dinging as it descended.Did I finally lose my mind?

“Fiancé?” Grant’s tone was as horrified as I felt. His focus returned to me, ignoring Aaron’s outstretched hand. “You’re engaged?”

Aaron replied for me. “As of a minute ago, yes.”

Grant twisted my hand over so that my knuckles faced the ceiling, inspecting. “Where’s the ring?”

“Ah, you’re misunderstanding.Sheproposed tome.” Aaron crossed the miniscule distance that’d separated us, and with deliberate firmness, he reached out and knocked Grant’s from mine. “And I’d thank you for keeping your hands off my fiancée, Mr.…”

“Holland.” Some of his politeness had vanished as his hands fell to his sides. “Grant Holland.”

Aaron didn’t react. “Mr. Holland.”

“Lovey,” Grant said, sounding more confused than upset. “Is this true?”

Of course it’s not true, I needed to say. In fact, I needed to say a lot of things, but the strange numbness that’d set in the moment I saw Grant had tied my tongue.Don’t touch me again, was one of them.Don’t smile at me, was another.You can take your towels and shove them up your?—

“Oh!” Paige jumped when the elevator opened, throwing her hands up to her mouth. In one hand hung a set of keys. “Oh, no. I—I’m so sorry! I—I realized too late that I’d locked the elevator without checking. Hopefully you weren’t stuck in here long?—”

“Stuck?” Grant looked at me in concern. “You were stuck in this elevator withhim?” With the disdain dripping from his tongue, it was clear he’d already deemed Aaron unlikeable.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Surely we weren’t sitting in it for fun, Mr. Holland.” And then he turned to Paige. “Are you aware the ice machine on the eighth floor is broken? Terribly inconvenient.”

Grant glared at him. “Right, the ice machine being broken was inconvenient, and not being stuck in an elevator.”

“Oh, I foundthatrather enjoyable.”

Paige still sputtered, her cheeks flushing as she tried to maintain her cracking composure. It was like her outsides were matching my insides. “Lovey,” she whispered, as if the boys weren’t standing right there. “I saidnotto use the east elevator?—”

“I got on after her,” Aaron said. “So I would’ve been stuck all by my lonesome. Perhaps it wasfate.” At that, he shot a look at Grant.

I was cursed. Had to be. That had to be the only logical reason for the things happening to me. Cursed.

“I know it’s late,” Grant murmured, reaching for my hand again. “But, Lovey, we should sit down and catch?—”

“I’m sorry.” The words came out almost robotic, but it was as if speaking had opened a rift inside me. Hearing my voice suddenly made everythingreal—and my pulse became too loud in my ears. I jerked my hand back. “But no.”

I didn’t look at Grant closely enough to see his expression. “He isn’treallyyour fiancé, is he?”

Paige’s eyes widened further. I bet she hadn’t expected this soap operanightmareto come waltzing off the elevator. “Fiancé?”

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