Page 81 of The Princess and the Fraud

Aaron’s eyes flicked over my figure before settling on my feet. His express tightened. “Where are your shoes, Lovisa?” His voice was harder than I thought it should’ve been. He leaned forward, and for a wild second, I thought he was going to kiss me. But, no, he only leaned out to peer down the hallway, as if looking for someone. “Did someone bring you here?”

“To your door?”

“To the hotel.” A muscle in his jaw jumped, and his hand tightened into a fist at his side. “Did he get you drunk and bring you back here?”

Okay, I wasn’t tracking with whatever dirt path his brain turned down on. Hewho? Who would bring me to Aaron’s hotel room? But I couldn’t justsaythat I didn’t understand—Aaron would accuse me of being drunk again. I lifted my chin. “Paige brought me here, if you must know. But like I said, we’re talking aboutyou.”

The steel stiffness of his shoulders relaxed then, and something else seemed to shift, as if my presence went from alarming to amusing in a second. Aaron let out a breath and leaned a shoulder against the doorway of his room, folding his arms over his chest as he looked down at me. “Me and my alleged stupidity, you mean.”

“Your confirmed stupidity.” I poked him in the chest, my finger pressing into the material of his half-buttoned shirt, but unlike earlier when I’d shoved at him, he didn’t budge. “You’ve—you’ve got Caroline thinking she wants to marry you. And she doesn’t. You—you’re playing with everyone’s minds. And you’re stupid.”

“Caroline wants to marry me?”

“Don’t play dumb. You probably talked about it today at your little lunch date rendezvous. But she doesn’t; she only thinks she does.” I poked him again. “Because you, Aaron Astor, are a chameleon.”

His eyebrows drew together as he smiled. “I’m a what?”

“A chameleon.” I poked him in the chest again, digging my finger in hard, and leaving it there. “You change to the people around you, to impress them, to woo them. You—you lie, and you pretend to be one color when you’re another. But I see right through you and your color-shifting façade.”

Aaron watched me while I spoke, my words slicing together a bit more than I’d have liked, but I continued to plow forward, refusing to be swayed by his dark stare.

“But you don’t have to be a chameleon,” I told him, softening. “You don’t have to pretend and lie. You don’t have to wear a mask. You don’t need to be a chameleon.”

“Lovisa.” Aaron drew out my name in a murmur, lowering his head. The curl to his lips didn’t vanish. “You need to make up your mind. Are you mad at me or are you not mad at me? You go back and forth quite often.”

“I get mad at you,” I told him. “You make me so mad, like, all the time. And Ineverget mad. Ever. I’m the calmest, most level-headed person in all of Alderton-Du Ponte, probably. I’m…unflappable.”

“I bring out the worst in you?” he guessed, and the words sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember why.

I gave my head a small shake. “You make me feel alive again.”

Now, the grin slid from Aaron’s face.

“I’m—I’m always calm, and tired, and a wet blanket. For the past five years, my life has been boring and predictable. Even when I was still with Grant, it was always…quiet.” The last word came out in a whisper, a revelation. My eyes bounced between his. “I’m a musician, Aaron. I don’t likequiet.”

Each time Aaron and I had argued, it was like he’d stoked the dying embers within me, sparking them back into a flame. You’d think arguing with someone would’ve been a bad thing, but it was almost as if it’d woken me up. I’d been stuck in a walking coma, going through the motions, working and sleeping and repeating withoutfeeling.

All those years ago, it hadn’t been just my passion for the cello I’d put into a box. I’d tucked myself inside, too. And Aaron, with his own notes crescendos, drew me back out.

I let out a sharp breath. “And I’m mad at you now because you act like your life is worth nothing if you don’t have your family’s approval. But you havemyapproval. Just as you are.”

In the grand scheme of things, I knew how little my opinion weighed beside what his family thought, but I wanted him to know that someone supported him. Even if I wasn’t family, even if I wasn’t some rich heiress.

My stream of consciousness wasn’t finished. “And youaremade for love, Aaron. You just—you just are. Even if someone tells you differently, you deserve to love and feel loved.”

Aaron’s voice was subdued. “How do you know?”

“Because love is not just forsome people.” I wanted to put my hands on his shoulders and shake him. “It’s—it’s just… It’s just love. It’s not some secret club that you’re not invited to, or some ultra hard composition you have to perform. And you—you don’t have to earn it.” Back at the bar, I’d pretended to cup Aaron’s face, and I thought about doing it now. But I didn’t. I held back, just barely. “You have to choose it. You have to chooseyou.”

Aaron stared at me again instead of answering, and it left me unsettled. The world seemed a bit sharper as the back and forth between us went further, as if my exasperation chased away the lingering haze. I didn’t want him to toy with me now, to tease me, to act like this was all one big joke. Acting likehis lifewas one big joke. For once, I just wanted him to listen to me.

“Your skin is hot.”

I looked down at where I still poked into his chest—when did I poke him again?—only then realizing that I’d missed his shirt this time. My finger was digging into him—into his bare, tanned skin. Before I jerked back, Aaron grabbed ahold of my wrist and tugged me closer, forcing my palm to lie flat against his chest. Hisbarechest. Hiscold, bare chest. My five fingers were splayed over his pectoral, fingertips brushing the firmness of his collarbone, palm covering his heart.

His skin was like ice, and a small shiver caused his shoulders to tremble. “Why are you so warm?” he murmured.

“Why are you socold? Do you not have the heat on in your room?” Impulsively, I reached up with my other hand and laid my palm against his cheek. Aaron’s dark lashes fluttered, half-lidding before lifting again.

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