Chapter Seven #2
The cool air of the penthouse sends a shiver through me as I take up my spot on the other side of the glass and face Aiden.
“He’s taking our photo,” Aiden murmurs. “Not getting ready to bludgeon us with his camera.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. This is just so strange. You’re my boss and I—”
He loops an arm around my waist, pulls me close once more except this time I’m facing him and I can see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes, smell the spicy wood scent of his aftershave.
“We’re playing a part, Seraphina. Remember that.” He lowers his head, stopping just before his lips brush mine. I keep my feet planted on the ground even as my baser needs urge me to close the distance and kiss him again. “Remember all the people we’re helping.”
I gaze up at him, at this man who gave me an incredible opportunity when I needed a fresh start. A man I’ve worked side by side with for three years.
A man I barely know, but I’m expected to pretend I love.
“Why are we helping all those people? Why New Field?”
Aiden’s brows draw together, but he quickly smooths out his expression, doesn’t even bother to glance and see if Liam is still taking photos.
“Does it really matter?”
I start to answer, but then I shut my mouth and look out over the terrace. I’ve never told him about Brett, about why I volunteer at Grace’s Refuge or what led me to fire dancing. I have no foundation to stand on.
“No.”
I turn back to him and give him a slight smile. Then, slowly, I raise my hand up and lay it on his cheek. His eyes widen a fraction. At least he’s not wholly unaffected, even if I only surprised him.
“Seraphina—”
“All right!” Dylan steps in. “A few more poses, and then questions.”
A few more poses turns into thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes of me clinging to Aiden’s arm, gazing lovingly up at his face, holding on to him and looking over his shoulder at the camera as we wind our way through the lower floor of the penthouse.
Each pose is more intimate than the last, each one requiring us to touch, hold, embrace.
Hands together, cheeks brushing, lips nearly coming together again and again.
Inside I feel like I’m about to combust even as I fight the oddness of having someone photograph every move I make.
Aside from that moment when I touched his face, Aiden is composed. He slides into each pose with ease, doesn’t seem to be affected at all. I can’t help but despise him for his control.
Finally, Dylan has us walk back out onto the terrace.
“Last one,” Dylan promises. “Face each other. Mr. Hawke, arms around her waist, hands at the small of her back. Miss Clark, arms loosely looped around his neck and angle your ring toward the camera.”
A wicked thought infiltrates. I try to brush it away, but it’s insistent. Pushy. Petty.
But as I look up into Aiden’s calm, smooth face, I let the thought take over and subtly press my hips against his while I smile at him. His fingers dig into my back as his mask slips and fire lights in his eyes.
Success.
My triumph is short-lived as he grows hard against me. Even through all the layers of fabric I can feel him pressing against my core. I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from moaning.
“And done.” Dylan chuckles. “With the posed photos anyway. Liam is going to get a couple shots while we sit and chat.”
I drop my arms and step away from Aiden. He’s staring down at me, eyes hard and glittering. My heart is pounding in my throat as I wrench my gaze away. I started it, and dear God, I want to keep going.
For the first time that morning, I’m grateful Dylan and Liam are here to keep me from making a stupid mistake.
“Of course.”
We follow her inside. She seats us in front of the fireplace but with the windows at our backs. Aiden reaches over and grabs my hand, his grip a little tighter this time.
“So.” I can easily picture Dylan rubbing her hands together. “When did this incredible romance start?”
“The office New Year’s Eve party.” I lower my eyes, as if embarrassed, but I’m steadying myself, mentally reviewing the lies we concocted before I open my mouth. “We’ve always respected each other. But that was the night we both realized our feelings were more than professional.”
Dylan tilts her head as her smile morphs from pleasant to slightly mocking. “So you’re telling me you haven’t dated at all in the two and a half years prior?”
“I am.” I hold her gaze. “Aiden has the most integrity of any man I know. He never once crossed the line in the time I’ve worked for him.”
Dylan finally inclines her head to me. “All right. Let’s talk fire dancing then, shall we?”
The interview crawls and whips by in equal measure. Dylan peppers both of us with questions about everything from wedding plans and the Violet Masquerade to my fire dancing. I drop both Grace’s Refuge and Cirque Obsidian’s names several times.
Aiden doesn’t let go of my hand the entire time. Every now and then his hand tenses in mine, or I squeeze his for reassurance. Once Dylan is gone, we can return to the status quo. But for now, I’m taking every ounce of support he’s offering me.
“We’re drawing to a close, but I think we have time for one last question.”
The hungry light rekindles in her eyes. Unease makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“Brett Sinclair.”
I freeze. His name repeats in my head, beats against my skull as I stare at Dylan.
I’m looking at her, I know I am, but all I can see is Brett’s face, the manic anger that last night when he trashed the kitchen because I had gone with another secretary for a drink and didn’t tell him.
Feel the pain explode as he hits me. See the reflection glint on the butcher knife he pulled out of the drawer before I ran out the door.
“Seraphina!”
I blink, snap back to the present. Aiden’s kneeling before me, my hands in his.
“Are you all right?”
Slowly, I nod. “Yes.”
Aiden watches me for a moment, as if to reassure himself I really am okay. Then he surges to his feet and turns with slow, lethal precision.
“Get out.”
Dylan’s smile dims. “We’re almost done, Mr. Hawke.”
“No, you were done the minute you decided to use my fiancée’s pain to boost your ratings.
” He walks past her to the elevator and presses a button.
The door slides open. “You can leave with the photos you came for and any information shared before that last question. If you publish one thing about that man in that article or any other exposés you write, I will buy Gilded just to have the pleasure of firing you and ensuring you never work in New York again.”
The color disappears from Dylan’s face as she stands.
“The public has a right—”
“To know Seraphina’s and my story when and if we choose to share it.” Aiden points to the elevator. “You have ten seconds.”
Dylan and Liam scramble for the elevator. It would be comical if there wasn’t a buzzing in my ears accompanied by the awful sensation of being trapped. Trapped by my own choices, by the realization that my past will come out eventually.
Aiden walks back to me, his steps slow and measured. He sits in the chair next to me but doesn’t touch me again.
“Do you know about Brett?” I finally ask. My throat is so dry it feels like it’s been days since I’ve had water.
“No.”
There’s no relief to be found. He knows a name. He knows enough from my reaction to surmise what happened. And eventually someone will dig up the sordid details.
“I’d like a little time before I talk about it.”
“Of course.”
I raise my head. His eyes are on me, anger still simmering. It’s odd to see, to know the anger is on my behalf. Aiden rarely displays emotion of any kind.
I clear my throat. “We didn’t have anything planned tonight, did we?”
“Dinner at Le Bernardin. I’ll cancel.”
I start to tell him no, that I can suck it up. But instead, I nod. The thought of going out, of having photographers crowding around, is too much.
“Did you have any plans for the next few days?”
“Work. Practice at Obsidian. Nothing else.”
“You’re off for the rest of the week.”
I nod again. I need quiet. Peace. I wish I was somewhere I could walk outside without paparazzi lurking, but maybe I’ll just spend the week in the penthouse.
“How about a few days in France?”
I glance at Aiden. “Did you say France?”
“Yes. I have a villa outside Cassis near Calanques National Park. It’s on its own peninsula with a private beach. No tourists, no prying eyes. Then we’ll continue on to Venice.”
I barely hold back the hysterical laugh bubbling in my throat.
In the span of two days, I’ve entered into a fake engagement with my boss who once told me the idea of marriage was “unpalatable,” moved into his ultra-luxury penthouse, and just had my photo taken by Gilded for a magazine spread.
Now Aiden is suggesting we jet off for Europe.
It’s insane.
Aiden pulls out his phone, taps the screen and hands it to me.
The villa is stunning. Two stories of ivory white with massive swaths of glass and stone columns holding up the walk-around balcony that surrounds the entire second floor of the house.
The picture was taken at dusk, the rooms inside glowing gold and giving me a glimpse of the living room with its soft gray couches and the kitchen with its dark wood accents.
A pool runs the far length of the yard with what looks like an infinity edge.
“You can see the bay from the pool.”
I stare at it. It looks like heaven. But am I just running away?
“I know the last two days have been a lot. It’s a good idea to go somewhere we can have privacy and get to know each other outside the office. Give ourselves a chance to breathe and come to terms with what’s happened and what we’re facing over the next few months.”
He makes it sound perfect. But what will it be like, I wonder, to be secluded with Aiden Hawke?
I’m in shock right now. Exhausted. But I still remember the chemistry between us during the photo shoot, the heat burning through me when he pressed himself against me.
Will we both give in? And if we do, will I be able to pick up the pieces after?
Oh, dear God, stop! That’s not what I need to focus on right now. Aiden has always held to his personal rules and guidelines. Yes, he’s attracted to me. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to act on it, and I sure as hell am not instigating anything.
“That sounds nice.”
Aiden stands. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, but he’s already left the room.
I turn and stare out over the city. I overcame the odds before. I’ll do it again. And this time, I vow, I will leave with my heart and dignity intact.