The Pretend Girlfriend (10 page)

But Henry simply chuckled at his son's criticism, letting it roll off his back like water off an umbrella.

Gwen wondered if the two men agreed on even a single point. She doubted it. She also found herself agreeing with Aiden's point of view on all this. From the looks of it, she bet this place was intended to cater to more rich people. It made her think of Astor's party, the place Beatrice took her and where she'd met Aiden for the first time.

All that money concentrated in one place, doing nothing except showing how much of it you could throw around on pointless stuff. She wondered what one of Aiden's charities could do with the funds it took to restore a decrepit old building like this.

Henry led them through a set of fresh mahogany doors which let into an opulent dining room, its walls consisting of more mahogany, giving the place a warm feel. A few of those Art Deco sconces spilled light up towards the ceiling, drawing the eye to a chandelier that again reminded Gwen of that party.

A single circular table occupied the space in the center of the floor, a crisp white tablecloth hanging from it almost to the floor. Three chairs waited for them.

"Thanks," Gwen said as Aiden pulled her chair out for her and sat her down. Henry watched dispassionately.

"I just hired this chef from Paris. He came highly recommended; I'm sure you'll enjoy the food," Henry said.

But no sooner had the food (succulent medallion steaks that had Gwen's mouth watering) arrived then Henry began his interrogation.

The man would have made an excellent detective. Gwen's five-star steak grew cold on her plate as Henry fired question after question at them. He really did suspect something, she knew.

She also knew that Aiden probably set up this whole relationship for his father's benefit, which in turn led to the question of what Henry held over his son's head to make him go to these lengths.

"So tell me, how did you meet?" Henry said. He hadn't even looked down at his food when the white-jacketed waiter set it down in front of him.

"Astor's party. Gwen couldn't find the washroom," Aiden said.

"So she found you instead, then," Henry replied.

Gwen actually felt her mouth drop open a little at that. She'd been trying to maintain that same sweet smile from before, but the dregs of her small triumph in the limo quickly drained.
Does Henry actually hate his son or something?
The man was impossible to read.

The questions dragged on forever. Gwen discovered that, while the chair she sat in looked ornate and expensive, it sacrificed comfort for fashion. Or it could have simply been that every muscle in her had been clenched solid for the last hour, trying in vain to shield her from Henry's assault. She wondered what time it was, but didn't dare try to find out.

And then finally came the last question. Henry had been saving it, judging by the way he paused before putting it to them.

He dabbed at his lips with the cloth napkin despite not having taken a single bite of his food. He pushed the plate out of the way and planted his elbows firmly on the table, his left hand encircling the right. He stared out at them from over this doubled fist.

"So how long are you going to keep this charade up, anyway?"

Coldness filled Gwen's chest and stomach, so sudden and sharp that she couldn't at first breathe.
He knows!

Terrible thoughts flashed through her mind. She'd known this wasn't going to work. Aiden was going to cancel the check. She was going to lose her apartment.
I'm going to have to move back in with one of my parents...

"What are you talking about?" Aiden said.

Another electrical storm started over the table.

Henry waved his hand at the two of them, "This," he said, "Whatever this is. Did you really think this would fool me, boy?"

"I know you think you're this great judge of character, Henry, but you're dead wrong here. This is real," Aiden said.

But Henry ignored Aiden, at least for the moment, looking instead over his hands at Gwen. "Tell me now, Gwen, are you an escort?"

"Excuse me?" Gwen said, grateful for the heat of self-righteous anger as it flooded her chest.

Henry shook his head in disappointment. "Is my son paying for your services? Because if he is, I could have recommended a few women better suited to the role..." He examined her openly, his eyes appraising. And apparently not approving of what they found.

Gwen's cheeks grew hot, and her own eyes dropped to that cold medallion of AAA New York strip loin.

"Henry..." Aiden said, the warning tone in his voice plain. He spoke through gritted teeth.

"It's an honest question. Did you really think this..." Gwen could sense him waving at her again, "Was going to be good enough?"

"I assure you, Henry, this is real." Aiden picked up his fork and the steak knife and sawed a piece of his steak off. He chewed and swallowed, then dabbed gently at his lips with the napkin. "My compliments to the chef. Come on, Gwen, I'm taking you home."

Aiden stood, then grabbed the back of her seat. She let him help her up.

"Please, take my car," Henry said, "And Aiden, you can be sure I will know everything there is to know about your new paramour by the morning."

Aiden didn't look back at his father. Instead, he led Gwen by the hand back out into the hall, then into the lobby. When the driver saw them, he got out and opened the door.

Gwen didn't speak until the car started moving. She double checked to make sure the partition was up so that the driver couldn't see or hear them.

"I'm sorry about that..." Aiden started.

"I'm not in this to get called a hooker," she said.

"We both know that's not the case," Aiden said.

"He knows what we're doing."

Aiden looked up at the ceiling while he unbuttoned his shirt and tugged at the knot of his tie. "No. He suspects. There's a difference. And really, I am sorry about this. I didn't expect him to move so quickly."

She wanted to threaten him with reneging on the whole thing, but couldn't. She had yet to read the contract she'd signed so hastily, after all. For all she knew, he had clauses in there about the exact duration this... whatever it was, was supposed to go on for.

So instead she just sighed and said, "Take me home."

He did. They pulled up in front of her building. The driver started to get out, but Aiden beat him to the punch. He opened the door, even offering her a hand. She accepted, but only because she now felt exhausted from that opening skirmish with Henry Manning. She wondered how Aiden managed to do anything but sleep his days away to escape a presence like that in his life.

He walked her to the door. "You really did do well, though. I think this is going to work out just fine."

"Gee, thanks," she said as they reached the entrance. Light from the lobby and the mail room spilled out as they turned to face each other.

For just a second there, Gwen forgot herself and wondered if he was going to kiss her goodnight. Her lips tingled as she remembered the kiss they'd shared when she climbed into that limo for the first time. Without really thinking, she wet them in anticipation.

But this wasn't a real date, she reminded herself.

Aiden smiled at her and then turned away, saying, "Good night."

Gwen couldn't believe him! Or herself, for that matter. Why was it so important that he kiss me again? But it was.

"Aiden! The driver!" she hissed at him. He stopped, looked at the car, then back at her. He turned back to face her.

"Good thinking. He'll probably tell Henry everything... Okay, come here."

She couldn't help feeling a touch weak in the knees when he wrapped his arms around the small of her back and pulled her close. She found herself wondering if he kept himself in shape under that shirt. It certainly felt that way, with their bodies pressed together like that.

"You don't have to be so convincing. He can't see us that well from here," Aiden said.

She realized that he meant the way she looked up at him. The moment was gone, the spell broken, all those things. She wanted to push him away.

Then he leaned in and kissed her again. It was just like before. Electric, that is. Like their bodies completed a circuit.

Damn you, knees!
she thought as they again turned into two loose rubber bands barely able to hold her up, her body not supporting her in her frustration with him.

She'd just wrapped one arm around his waist, her other hand on the back of his head, feeling the soft strands of his hair between her fingers, when he ended it. She worked her jaw, glancing around, trying to look anywhere but at him. For being a jerk, he was a good kisser. He slipped out of her arms and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his thumbs hooking on the outside. He turned to go.

"Good night. And Gwen?" he said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yes?" she said.

"Read over the contract, will you? It's important."

"Oh, yeah. Right." Her shoulders slumped. She wrenched the door open and searched for her key, her movements rapid and jerky with anger.

What were you expecting?
she scolded herself.
Did you expect him to ask if he could come upstairs with you or something?

She finally found her keys. The whole way up in the elevator, and then back in the dark entrance hall of her apartment, she could still feel Aiden. The scent of his cologne followed her, as well as some impression of his presence.

It was only when she turned on the hall light that she saw she still wore his jacket around her shoulders.

Why didn't he ask for it back? He must have seen it on me this whole time
, she thought. She took it off and started to hang it up on the rack beside the door. Then, without really thinking, she brought it close to her face and smelled it.

Yep, that's his cologne all right
. It was light and understated. She breathed it in again, holding the scent before letting the air rush from her lungs.

"He's not your real boyfriend," she said, feeling stupid for smelling his equally stupid jacket. She tossed it up onto the rack, resolving to give it back to him when next they met.

The exhaustion hit her, then. This had to be one of the longest days of her life.

Gwen locked the door behind her and walked to her room, kicking her shoes off on the way. She barely had the energy to unzip the dress and step out of it as it fell around her feet.

She went to sleep intending to not wake up until lunch the next day.

And she couldn't shake the scent of Aiden's cologne. It followed her into sleep.

G
wen found herself walking down the polished concrete floor of a posh condo. It was both familiar and alien. She'd been there many times, she felt. But she didn't have any recollection of any such visits.

Pieces of modern art hung from the walls, which were cream-colored. They caught and held the light pouring in through the bank of windows along the wall in the room she could see to her right. The park appeared in that window, all the buildings pressing in closely along its rectangular border.

She touched the wall, felt the texture of the paint beneath her fingertips. She became aware of how cold that concrete floor left her feet, and she looked down. Her feet were bare. As were her calves, her thighs. And everything above that.

Suddenly self-conscious of her nakedness, she searched for some sort of cover. A robe, a towel. Even a tablecloth would do.

She reached out for the polished latch of the door that appeared in front of her. But before she could open it, it swung inward. Not of its own accord, however.

Steam spilled out of the room in great roiling clouds that swirled back in on themselves as they touched the colder air outside the bathroom and recoiled from it.

And standing there, using a beige towel to dry himself, was Aiden. He, too, was naked. She looked down, unable to help herself. Her eyes widened. Very naked.

"Hey, babe," he said, grinning at her.

That's weird
, she thought.
I've never seen him grin like that before.
She also thought he should do it more; he had nice teeth. They set off his eyes.

Despite his toweling, little rivulets of hot water dripped from him onto the tile floor of the bathroom. The droplets of water ran down his chest, between the little clefts in his abdominal muscles, all the way down...

Oh, I'm looking again
, she thought, her whole body flushing as she dragged her eyes back up to his face. It wasn't easy. He looked pretty fine, naked.

And his hair looked just perfect in its chaos, too. Like he'd run the towel through it just to achieve that specific effect.

"Hey, yourself," she said.

Then his eyes slid down her body. In her shock at seeing him, she'd forgotten her own clothing situation. Or lack thereof.

"Turn around!" she said. More like shrieked in embarrassment, actually. Her hands went to the areas that most needed it, doing their best to cover things up but not quite managing.

Why is he looking at me like that? I thought I wasn't his type?
she thought. Rather than averting his gaze like she'd so politely asked, he continued looking. That grin of his grew wider, almost wolfish in the way it showed his teeth.

"Why so bashful all of a sudden?" he said.

"Why am I naked?" she replied, "Where are my clothes? Did you take them?"

Aiden folded his damp towel once lengthwise and hung it on the stainless steel bar beside the steamed-up mirror. He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head slightly to the side.

She regretted her choice of words in describing him.

Gwen swallowed heavily, looking up at the ceiling.
Did he have no shame or something?

"Your clothes? They're in the closet in the bedroom, I bet. You know... right where you left them?" He chuckled at her. Then he prodded her with his index finger, just above her navel. It tickled.

"Hey! Cut it out," she said, contorting herself to move away from another attempted jab. She could slap his hand away, she knew. But that meant taking one of her own hands off censorship duty. And that wasn't about to happen.