The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(29)

"Whoa whoa whoa! Excuse me? Packing?"

Her dad gave her a look that said, "Uh, yeah? Why else would I be here?"

"I never asked you to help me move," she said.

"You don't need to ask, Gwenny. I'm your father; I'm here to help."

She was glad Beatrice wasn't around to hear that. Beatrice would call her Gwenny for the rest of the month, if she'd been there. No one but her parents called her that. Which was just fine with her. Gwenny sounded like a name for a little girl, or a cute puppy. Neither of which she was, clearly.


Again, she got that simultaneous feeling of annoyance and gratitude. Though her annoyance, she knew, was unwarranted. She hadn't told him everything was fine yet, after all. She couldn't help contrasting her father to Henry Manning. She didn't think old Henry would offer Aiden a hand even if he were drowning.

And that just made her feel more sympathy for Aiden, which softened her smile. "Thanks, dad. You have no idea how happy that makes me feel that you'd come down like this... without calling ahead... and offer to help. But you really didn't have to. I have everything sorted out, now."

Her dad started in about getting out quickly to make sure they could rent a truck, then stopped in mid-sentence. "What do you mean? Did you find that bit... That awful roommate of yours?"

"No," Gwen said. Then she regretted saying it.

"So how did you come up with that five grand?"

Sometimes, people have this habit of offering a possibility or two on speculation. She really wished her dad had said something like, "Did you get a lucky scratch ticket?" Anything she could just nod and smile to and say how she was set and that they could grab lunch but then he really needed to get going because she had things to do...

But her father didn't offer any possibilities. His forehead wrinkled again, and he gave her that look she knew all too well from her childhood that indicated that he knew she lied, or wasn't telling him something.

Normally, he just kept looking at her like that until she broke. And she invariably did. Her parents didn't believe in corporal punishment, but sometimes she wished that they had. The sting of a slap was infinitely better than the guilt she felt under that glare, and the disappointed look that would follow when she finally revealed the truth. The aforementioned sting disappeared quickly, after all. The disappointment of a parent tended to linger.

"Dad..." she said.

He didn't respond. He was the expert at this, after all.

"This is ridiculous!" she continued. Still no break in his expression.

And it was ridiculous, she thought. Ridiculous that she was an adult, legally able to make her own decisions, decide her own destiny, tell all the lies she wanted, and yet still fall under the power of that particular stare.

She licked her lips, her eyes searching about the small kitchen, lighting on the baker's rack, on the microwave stand, on the stove, as though she might find a convincing lie in any of those places. But of course she couldn't.

She could feel herself crumbling, her willpower evaporating and melting like so much ice placed under a heat lamp.

And then someone knocked on the door. "I have to get that. It's important. I'll be right back, dad..." she said, rushing out of the kitchen, ready to kiss whoever waited on the other side, even if it was the hairy old superintendent.

"Gwen..." her father said as she rushed past him.

"Really, dad, I'll be right back. Hold that thought!"

Smiling broadly, the adrenaline of her escape leaving her a little shaky, Gwen reached the door and pulled it open.

Aiden stood on the other side. "Hey, Gwen..." he said, moving to step in.

She tried to close the door in his face, "Not now! Go away!" she said. He had to get out of here before her father saw.

"What?" he said. He stuck his foot against the door. The bottom of the jamb connected with the shiny toe of his shoe with a squeak. And she couldn't budge the door any nearer to the frame.

"Come back later, okay? Please?" Gwen said, sticking her face in the gap and doing her best to whisper. Her ears strained to hear any sound of her father's approach. Maybe he didn't hear anything, she thought.

"This is ridiculous," Aiden said, "It's also clearly against the guidelines we set up."

Gwen readied a torrent of insults and foul words concerning what she thought of the guidelines in this particular instance, but didn't get the chance to begin hurling any of them at him.

"Guidelines? Guidelines for what, Gwen?" her father said.

Gwen hunched her back up and flinched as though deflecting an attack. Aiden mouthed a Who is this? at her. She mouthed, Be cool, back at him. Which was a mistake, since he just shrugged at her. Did rich people not use cool or something?

It was a point that would have to wait until later for further study.

Gwen fixed a smile on her face. She grabbed Aiden and hauled him into the apartment. The three of them stood awkwardly in the cramped-feeling entrance hall. Aiden's shoulder kept brushing against the coat rack, the jacket he wore today touching the one he'd lent her last night.

"Guidelines for what?" her father said, glaring at the both of them. He saw the jacket on the rack. "Is that his? Gwen, are you seeing someone in secret or something?"

"Yes," Aiden said. Gwen said, "No," at the same time.