Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
CHARLOTTE
I quickly undo the messy bun and run a hand through my hair, and stop by the mirror in my en suite.
I don’t look sick. But I do look sleepy, I suppose, and definitely unkempt. No makeup and my hair is a mess. It’ll have to do.
I hurry down the stairs.
Aiden is in his large kitchen. His phone in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “There you are,” he says and sounds altogether too pleased about it. I wonder how much he had to drink tonight. “How are you feeling?”
He’s in a tux. It’s immaculately done up, the bowtie at his neck, all the scruff on his lower jaw gone. Clean-shaven. The consummate professional. The handsome CEO who saved the entire company from near-ruin.
Except for the lines on his forehead. I bet he’s had to do a lot of convincing tonight to truly put new rumors to rest.
“Better.” I lean against the kitchen island. “Did you go shopping?”
He starts rummaging through the paper bag and pulls out two white containers. “Soup,” he says. Then he pulls out a small bottle that rattles with the sound of pills.
“Did you raid a pharmacy?”
“Yes.” He also pulls out two large bottles of mineral water, a bag of chips, and over a dozen chocolate bars. “I got every kind. Didn’t know which one was your favorite.”
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip and watch him set it all up on the island like it’s an offering. I don’t like lying. Never have. But here I am, doing it anyway.
“Maybe I don’t even like chocolate.”
He looks at me. “No one dislikes chocolate.”
I reach for the one with a tiny galaxy on the packaging. “This one. It’s my favorite.”
His lips curve. “Good choice.”
“Thank you for all of this.”
“Anytime, Chaos.” He pushes the container of warm soup into my hands. “Eat that before your dessert,” he says and lifts his free hand to untie the knot at his bowtie.
“You’re bossy tonight.”
“I’m bossy all the time,” he says. “That’s my job.”
I sit down on a bar stool across from him and open the lid to the soup. It smells delicious. “How did the night go?”
He ignores my question. “How do you feel? Do you get migraines often?”
I stir the soup with a spoon. “Sometimes.”
He frowns. “I don’t like that. Have you been checked out for them?”
“It’s not that serious. I just had a massive headache and knew it would have gotten worse with so much stimulus.” I look at him. “Now tell me about your night.”
He waits a moment, his fingers drumming against the kitchen island. “Great. A roaring, fan-fucking-tastic success.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “That sounds like sarcasm.”
“No. It’s true. It went great.” He reaches up and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt with sharp movements. I see his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. “I’ve charmed and convinced and told them all that there is nothing to the rumors about our tax filings. I’ve been the picture of ease.” Then he shakes his head. “Fuck, I hate these events.”
“You go to a lot of them,” I say carefully. “Do you hate them all?”
“Yes,” he mutters. “All performance, all charm. That’s what’s needed of me. I’d much rather be out on the ocean, in a forest, on a motorcycle. Working at the office, even.”
I set my soup down. “Really? I thought you enjoyed them. You always seem so… confident in front of people.”
“I have to seem confident. If I let them smell the faintest trace of weakness, I’ll be eaten alive.”
“You’re speaking as if they’re predators and you’re prey.”
His lip curves in a humorless smile. “That’s the game, Chaos. I learned early on to turn myself into a predator of my own.”
He’d taken over the company on the brink of bankruptcy, dealt with despondent shareholders, confronted a Board that had failed in its functions, and handled staff who feared being let go.
And faced the Hartman family name in the news, taunted as one of the biggest corporate frauds in modern history.
“It’s all been one big confidence game,” I murmur. “Since you took over Titan Media. Hasn’t it?”
He looks at me for a long moment. And then, gently, “Yes. Eat your soup, Charlotte.”
“My head hurt. Not my throat.” Still, I reach for the container. The soup is delicious. There’s even a small piece of freshly baked bread wrapped in thermo foil.
I wonder where he found that this late at night.
He watches me eat. I watch him watch me. The moment stretches, extends like a rubberband.
Aiden blows out a breath. “I’ve been thinking. I should apologize.”
“For what?”
“Our fight. The other day.”
“About the car.” I look down at the soup and stir it again. It’s hot. “I’ve driven it every day since then.”
“I’ve noticed. Do you like it?”
“I do, yes. And I think I should apologize as well. I got defensive.”
He runs a hand along the back of his neck. “I’m used to making decisions. Not… compromising or negotiating. I should have spoken to you about it first.”
“Asked,” I say softly.
“Asked,” he repeats. “Yes. Some of the things you said, Charlotte…”
I put the spoon down. “I know. I reacted too strongly. The rules we set up? I guess I just felt like they were maybe… shaking a little.”
“Mm-hmm. I get that.”
“You do?”
His facial expression is serious. “Yes. The parameters are important to you. No emotions involved in our extracurricular activities.”
I smile a little. “Yeah. That’s nice phrasing.”
“Thank you. And those activities can’t affect our working relationships. I remember the rules, Chaos. Including the new one you threw in the other night.”
I have to look away at the memory. Me, riding his hand in the next room over. “I just think that the compliments, they might… affect rule number one. You know?”
He’s quiet for so long that I have to look at him again. His hands are braced on the kitchen island, and his eyes are ablaze. “Yes. I understand. But I want you to know that, while I’ll try to refrain, it doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re beautiful, intelligent, and so fucking hot that it’s regularly hard for me to think straight around you.”
A flush races up my cheeks. “You’re doing it again.”
“I know. And now I won’t. Promise.”
“You’re hot, too. Which makes it kind of hard to believe you’re calling me hot, but you know.” I shrug and swallow another spoonful of soup. I’m not insecure about my looks. I like my appearance, even. It’s one of the few things I don’t feel vulnerable about. But it’s hard to dismiss the clear difference between us.
“Don’t do that,” he says, “or you’re going to make it impossible for me to keep my compliments to myself.”
“Fine. I’m very hot. It’s entirely believable that I seduced a successful, attractive, extremely rich Los Angeles executive.”
His eyebrows rise. “Did I just reverse psychology you into breaking the ‘no compliments’ rule yourself?”
“I guess you did. Shoot.”
“Don’t worry. You’re a good opponent.”
“Mm-hmm. So are you.” Annoyingly, sometimes. His eyes are warm, and I don’t want to look away. He takes off his tuxedo jacket, and it’s like he’s slowly coming unbound, standing here in his home again, returning to the man I know.
I wonder if he’s been drinking tonight. If lots of beautiful celebrities and reality stars hung on his arm, trying to charm and impress him.
But he came home to me instead. Bearing gifts.
He walks around the island. “Feel better?”
I nod. He cups my chin and tilts my face up. “I’m sorry you couldn’t come tonight, for purely selfish reasons.”
“You are?” I turn toward him, and he steps closer. I have to tip my head back to meet his gaze.
“I would have enjoyed myself a lot more with you by my side.” His thumb glides over my lower lip, his stare is bottomless. “I don’t like people who aren’t who they say they are. That’s what I like about you, Chaos.” He bends closer, his mouth hovering over mine in an almost kiss. “You’ve always been honest with me, even if you’re hard to figure out. I’ve had to learn to read between the lines.”
His lips brush against mine in the faintest of kisses. Once. Twice.
“You can kiss me like you mean it,” I whisper.
“You’re sick,” he says.
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Not that sick.”
He kisses me slowly. Deeply. When he lifts his head, I feel faint, and it’s definitely not because of my imaginary illness. I want him to hold me closer.
He’s a drug, and I’m getting more and more addicted.
“You should be sleeping by now,” he says.
“You’re not a nurse. Or a doctor.”
“I know the basic science of health.”
I smile against his lips. “Yeah? And what’s that? Sleep equals good?”
“Yes. It’s the most fundamental health advice there is.”
“You never sleep.”
“That’s not true.”
I pull back, hands still around his neck. “I’ve seen you. You’re up late, working. Your light is always on.”
He shakes his head a little. “You’re stalking me.”
“We sleep down the hall from one another.”
“Terrifying, to think I’ve invited a stalker into my home. I’ll end up on one of those documentaries that Titan produces. He liked his roommate. She liked him dead. ”
I feel warm inside. The soup, most likely. “I wrote more chapters about you tonight.”
His smile turns into a frown, and his hands tighten around my hips. “Tell me you didn’t, Chaos.”
“Why not?”
“You had a headache.”
Right. “I mostly revised, after my Advil kicked in.”
His thumb moves in a slow circle. “Still. I don’t want you to kill yourself over this book.”
“I’m not killing myself. I’m actually excited to show you some of my new content.”
“You need to stop working.”
I rake my nails down his cheek, and his eyes darken. “Are you gonna take your own advice? Because I’ve never seen someone work more hours than you.”
He kisses me again. It’s another one of those languid, leisurely kisses, and I feel like it’s all too close to encroaching on rule number one. But it’s also too good to turn down.
“Come on. You can show me your writing in bed.”
I slip off the stool and push the empty soup container away. I grab my favorite chocolate bar. “Mine or yours?”