Page 89 of Pretender

Linnea and I exchange a glance but I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

“It’s pretty flash—Gisbon Lux gift bags and all,” Katrina singsongs.

With my arm around Linnea’s waist I sense her body tensing, just ever so slightly. Does this mean she’s uncomfortable but doesn’t dare say anything?

It could be about Katrina. Is she jealous?

I won’t put her through anything she doesn’t want to.

“I’m sorry, I have a headache coming on.” I rub my temple with my free hand.

“Oh, poor thing,” Linnea says, cupping my face in her hands, and I bet any ailment I had, if I did have one, would disappear with her softness on me like this. Our eyes meet.

“Is it okay with you if we go?” I try again, checking if I can read her response. Keeping my hands on her waist, my fingers splayed, I’m certain she relaxes. It’s so subtle, but it’s like I’ve just struck gold, trying to read her.

“That’ll suit me well,” she whispers and kisses my cheek, dangerously close to my mouth. I close my eyes, relishing the brush of her warm, tender lips. If I turn left now, I’d find her mouth with mine. Would she let me?

“That’s a shame,” Katrina interrupts. Her face is doing the opposite of Linnea’s. Her disappointment is obvious, with her knitted brow and pursed lips. “It’s a great story, especially after that. Did you see Henry throw his mallet across the lawn? And how he stomped away?”

“Good luck with your blogging,” I say and nod to her, hiding my glee at Henry’s predictable nature. But an idea hits me. “Katrina, be careful what you put about Henry in the blog, the way he talks shit about Linnea and anyone he doesn’t like behind their backs is despicable. He wouldn’t hesitate to drag your name through the mud too.”

“What an arse,” she says, grimacing.

“Yeah, I had to ban him from The Orion.” I shake my head, stifling my smirk when she gapes. “But yeah, be careful, he’s a snake.”

“Thank you for the warning, and hope you feel better.”

I nod again and lead Linnea away.

Once we’re around the corner of the entrance, well out of sight and earshot, I put away my pretend headache. “With so much left of the day, do you want to grab some proper food?”

There’s a steady drone of cars passing on the road next to us, but I can hear Linnea’s hesitant hum through it all.

Between deciding to leave and now, I must have missed a change in Linnea’s body language, in her posture. She’s closed off, somehow. I stop and look at her. Really look at her. She’s going to say no, but I have no clue why.

What happened between her saying she wanted to hang out and now?

“It’s best if we leave it here, Aiden. I need some time to myself.”

“Please don’t go.” I step forward, and when she sways towards me instead of away, adrenaline rushes through me and pools in my gut, urging me to take action. “Talk to me, Linnea. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

just here

LINNEA

Aiden’s eyes. He’s pleading with me, and this time I can see it’s real. Not exaggerated puppy-dog. It’s raw and genuine.

‘Talk to me, Linnea.’

One of the things I wish I’d done better with Henry was talking. I wish I’d told him when he took me for granted. When he belittled me. When his compliments felt backhanded. ‘You’re lovely in that, darling. Much better than whatever you were trying to accomplish last night.’

I wish I’d told him how hard it was to talk to him, because he made it sound like I was ungrateful. That I was a complaining bitch (his words). He’d list all the times he’d given me gifts, all the times he’d done something for the company, or all the times he’d said something nice.

And I’d freeze. Just like the little girl in front of her raging father telling her to stop crying just to get what she wants.

I’m not standing in front of an angry man today.