The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(23)

Henry Manning blinked. It may have seemed insignificant to an observer, but it was the only outward sign that what she said affected him. And it was more than Aiden had managed so far.

She knew then that Henry didn't like her. Not at all. And she also got the impression that he suspected something. Something about his son's relationship to her. And that this impromptu meeting had been his underhanded way of trying to shake the truth free.

Aiden relaxed slightly beside her, perceptible only in the way his hand didn't squeeze hers quite so hard. I passed his test, she realized. She got the impression that Aiden was grateful for what she'd just done. That sparked a warmness inside her, far disproportionate to what she expected. On some level, she still wanted him to like her.

"So where are we going?" Gwen said, her confidence at an all-time high due to her successful sortie against Manning the Elder. "You boys pulled me away from girl's night, so I hope it's good."

"I have some private dining arrangements made for us," Henry said.

The sound of the road shooting by beneath the limo changed slightly as the long vehicle started its trek across the upper level of the bridge.

Gwen watched the lights from the Manhattan skyline glittering on the black surface of the water, shifting back and forth on the rolling surface.

That was some good news, anyway. She'd told Beatrice that Aiden wanted to take her out for some sort of surprise meal at a new and exclusive restaurant. At least that wasn't a total lie. She hated lying to B.

At this time of night, the city streets weren't clotted with taxis. The city that never sleeps dozed around them. The limo took them to a regal old building on the Upper West Side that looked like it might have been a hotel back before World War 2. The driver stepped out and opened the door.

Gwen shivered when she climbed out onto the sidewalk. Why did I have to forget my coat? she thought. Because Aiden gave me no notice, and Beatrice thought it was a good idea to pretend like it was freshman year of college again, Gwen answered herself.

She hugged herself, rubbing at the stubble of goosebumps on her bare arms.

Like many older buildings in the city, this one had an awning that reached most of the way out to the street. A quiet man in a dark suit greeted Henry at the door, opening it for them.

"Here," Aiden said, taking off his jacket and hanging it over her shoulders.

It still held his warmth, and she smiled at him in genuine gratitude. The jacket stayed on all the way through the lobby - apparently, it really was an old hotel. Old Art Deco sconces and wainscoting lined the walls.

Although "old" was probably the wrong term. Old style worked better. The place felt old, yet new. Gwen couldn't put her finger on it.

Henry must have sensed her question. "The best businesses diversify. While my son believes in charity, I prefer things that might actually make us money. You might call this my pet project, restoring this old place..."

"And a dozen others throughout the city," Aiden said, looking around with distaste. Clearly, he thought those resources could be put to better use elsewhere.

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.