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After the interview, the ride back to Aiden’s place had been quiet and tense. As soon as we arrived, he disappeared into his gym without a single word. I raged to myself as I swept and mopped the living room and kitchen floor again, angrily, in anticipation of the camera crew coming. I knew what Aiden had done hadn’t been the floor’s fault, but it was the only thing I had around that I could take my frustrations out on.
I had just started working on the hallway that led from the front of the house to the half bathroom and the gym when I overheard Aiden.
“I’m about sick and tired of hearing what you think is best for me. I know what’s best for me,” Aiden’s familiar voice spat.
Uhh, what?
“No, you listen to me. Maybe I’ll re-sign with them, maybe I won’t, but don’t make promises I have no intention of keeping,” Aiden kept going with venom in every vowel.
Was he contemplating leaving Dallas?
“Don’t glorify what you’ve done. I have what I have because of my hard work, no one else’s,” Aiden added after a brief pause.
Who was he talking to? Trevor? Rob?
“I don’t care,” Aiden growled a moment later.
The silence after that was heavy, almost ominous and extremely alarming.
“All I’m asking is for you to do what’s best for me. That’s what you’re supposed to do. You work for me, not the team.”
Well, someone wasn’t just being bitchy to me today. That should have made me feel better, but it didn’t.
“I don’t need to remember anything,” Aiden said carefully, his tone controlled and cool. “Don’t open your mouth; it’s that easy. Don’t promise them anything. Don’t even talk to them. I’m telling you to listen to what I want. That’s what I pay you to do, isn’t it?”
Then, just like that, it was over.
I must have stood completely still for at least five minutes, listening, but there was nothing else said. I stayed rooted in place, breathing as quietly as possible until I figured enough time had passed to not make a suspicious sound.
“Slackin’ on the job?” Zac asked, his head hanging over from the top of stair rail.
I froze. What if Aiden thought I might have overheard his conversation? Damn it. I coughed and smiled innocently up. “You’re barely waking up?” I tried to play it cool.
“It’s my day off,” he explained as he jogged down the steps.
“Hasn’t every day been your day off?” I teased, not waiting for him to answer. “Ask me what time I woke up this morning,” I said, putting my chin on the top of the Swiffer handle.
“I don’t wanna know, darlin’.” He patted my shoulder as he walked by me into the kitchen. “I don’t wanna know.”
I snorted and pushed the dusting device around the hardwood floor as the sounds of Zac messing around in the kitchen kept me company while I thought about Aiden’s conversation. He had never said anything about leaving the team, and I guess I hadn’t assumed he would. From the digits in his bank account—at least the account I had access to—his contract extension a few years ago had been more than lucrative. Plus, he’d only improved. He was the face of the Three Hundreds. They would give him anything he asked for, but who the hell actually knew what that was? I sure didn’t.
Aiden should be singing praises for the Three Hundreds all day every day for what they’d given him in exchange for his skills.
“The house is lookin’ good, Cinderella,” Zac snorted as he held a bowl to his chest and snuck by me before I could whack him with the handle. He dashed through the doorway that led into the living room. The television was turned on a moment later.
Before I knew it, Aiden was in his bedroom getting dressed in something other than workout clothes for the first time in months, and a Channel 2 news truck was parking on the curb across the street. With a quick glance around, I made sure the house looked even more spot-free than usual. By the time the doorbell started ringing, Zac was zooming up the stairs with a panicked expression on his face.
“I don’t live here,” he muttered on his journey just as I reached the door and opened it.
A man in a suit and two cameramen stood on the other side. “Hi, come in,” I said, waving them forward. “Aiden will be down in a second. Would you like something to drink?”
All three of them glanced around carefully as I showed them into the living room where a producer and Trevor had already agreed would be the best place to film. I caught the camera guy looking at the walls when Aiden jogged down the steps. I’d never lived through an earthquake, but I was sure him on the steps might register on the Richter scale.
He filled the entrance to the living room—his shoulders and arms looking spectacular in the white polo shirt he’d somehow squeezed into, and the khaki pants he had to get specially made for his oversized thighs. I edged my way out of the corner of the living room, not necessarily wanting to but knowing I needed to. Just because I was pissed off at him didn’t mean I stopped doing my job.
“Need anything before you start?”
His eyes were everywhere, except on me. “Get them some water.”
Oh, ye of little expectations.
I blew out a breath, ground down on my molars, and nodded. “I was already going to do that. I was just waiting for you to come downstairs.”
When the doorbell rang, I frowned and walked around Aiden, wondering if one of the crew had been outside taking a smoke break. Peeking through the hole, I saw a face I’d seen enough of recently through video chat.
