Page 8 of Pretender

Oh no, not the pity.

I shrug and grip the carpet corner hard before I peel it back far enough to expose what turns out to be a hidden treasure. It’s better than I hoped for. I stand back up, brushing dust off my hands.

“This floor has potential,” I say, pressing my lips together to fight the grin that wants to escape. There’s absolute gold under here, and I want to squeal. Instead, I keep my voice even. “There’s antique timber flooring under this dreadful carpet. We’ll have to check the state of it, but that’ll work well for a front parlour.”

Aiden answers with a wide, bright white smile, hands in his pockets.

“You’re delighted about that, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning back on his heels.

“Umm, yes? This is authentically time-worn timber flooring. Patina like this can’t be faked.” I press my lips together again, excitement threatening to bubble over, and I need to reel myself in.

“Doesn’t hurt to show you’re enthused, you know. Not everyone can read you as well as I can.”

He raises a perfect, thick eyebrow and continues the slow walk through the ground floor. I follow, but his comment sinks in. Are my ears visible? What’s my tell and why can he see it?

Fuck, this is why I’ve been avoiding him. He does this kind of thing, throwing you off your game. It’s part of his charm routine, isn’t it? Yes, that’s all it is. He can’t really read me at all. He’s just saying stuff.

Ever since he saw me at my lowest, he’s been like that: all charm and less business, and I don’t like it.

Don’t go there, Linnea. Don’t replay it.

There are more rooms than I could tell from the outside. This will be fun. And a great distraction for the team. We stroll through what could be the dining room. This recessed ceiling is impeccable.

Aiden slows and turns to me with a glint in his eye. “Aren’t you going to ask what I do to relax?”

“I think most people know what you do to relax.” I try to make it sound teasing, the way he does with me, but from the way his little smirk just fell, I may have just been rude.

“Sorry, I was trying to be funny.” I wrinkle my nose.

He shakes his head, turning from me, and I follow him through to the next room.

Noted. He’s the only one who gets to make jokes.

This room has old maroon wallpaper that’ll need to be scraped off. But the windows are massive for such a small room. This will be fantastic in shades of green.

“You follow that ridiculous blog forum, don’t you?” he asks, chuckling as he drifts towards the other side of the room, but it sounds forced. Like he’s pushing the sound out.

Yes, I read it. Religiously. But I’ve never admitted it to anyone.

“It’s hard to avoid the chatter when working in the midst of it,” I say instead.

It’s not entirely untrue. People—his employees, my designers—often talk about the blog posts covering him or his friends.

He turns back to me, his jaw working. Is there something on his mind?

But then he sends me a close-lipped smile.

Should I ask?

No. Leave it. He says what he wants to say.

“Is this place going to be the new centre of attention?” I ask instead.

“Yes. This place will be more open, which should help me keep The Orion members only. The upstairs might become a hotel if I get the approvals.”

“It will be interesting to see if the blogger will let you off the hook. They seem quite obsessed with you.”

Not that I’m keeping track, but Aiden’s often at The Orion with his dates. If I don’t see him myself, I read about it in the blog. He’s been in the limelight more than ever this past year, now that Mark has a girlfriend. Maybe even more so after they stopped focusing so much on Sebastian for whatever reason.