Page 42 of Pretender

Damaged.

“Alright, so, how did we meet?” he asks. “I mean, how did we start going out?”

“Hmm. Maybe we hit it off at a work event and we both kind of asked each other out.”

“I’m sure I’m the one who asked you out.”

“Okay.” I shrug.

Aiden raises one eyebrow. “And you couldn’t resist my charm.”

A bark of a laugh escapes me and I hide my face.

“Hey, that was a real laugh. Why is that funny?”

Aw, he really has no idea.

“Luckily my closest friends are in New York and won’t be here to judge. They’d never buy that.”

“No?”

“Maybe you showed me a moment of vulnerability. A moment of realness that made me feel special, and that’s why I said yes.”

Aiden nods, his expression one I can’t read. This makes me even more nervous about tomorrow. They’re not going to believe us, are they?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

let’s drive together

AIDEN

The whirring of the flywheel on the rowing machine is soothing. One of the most familiar sounds to me. I’ve been a rower for eighteen years now. And even though it’s only on a machine these days, it’s still with Mark. Ever since our late teens, through university and competitions, to Saturday mornings in his home gym.

My stomach is in knots about the engagement party tonight. I was hoping the exercise would help, but I hate lying to Mark more than anyone. It’s the worst thing about this ridiculous situation I’ve got myself into.

Mark says something I can’t hear, but I hum in agreement as if I did.

My mind wanders back to two years ago. To when Linnea walked into The Orion. She introduced herself swiftly, and started walking around the club. I followed her. Watching how she smiled as she saw the different spaces, talked into her phone, recording her ideas, waving a hand around. It’s like she redesigned it in her head right there, and I was in awe.

When she came to ask me questions, she was almost panting. She was full of energy, talking fast, one idea after another, and I’d get carried away with her. I could picture her ideas coming to life, and I wanted it all. She basically described The Orion to me. Grander and more extravagant than I could ever have imagined.

Then Henry stepped up behind her, and she dimmed. She spoke slower and more technically.

I didn’t dwell on it at the time.

But then, last spring, I found them whisper-fighting in a corridor at one of our events. I’d stood frozen behind the door, not knowing what to do, not wanting to intervene in a private conversation, and certain she’d hate it if she found out I’d overheard. We weren’t exactly friends—she never seemed to warm to me no matter how nice I was to her.

‘You need to stop flirting with everyone,’ he hissed.

‘What? I’m networking, like you said I should do more of. This is just me.’

‘I’ve told you so many times, you need to reel yourself in. Paul asked if you’re drunk or if you’re always this animated. You’re embarrassing me.’

‘I’m sorry… You’re right. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,’ she said. ‘I’ll do better.’

I heard her deflating right there. And afterwards, through the rest of the evening, he squeezed her thigh and touched her forearm whenever she spoke.

It’s hard to understand how she endured over six years of that man.