The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(48)

"Coffee. Coffee's the answer," she muttered, unable to bear the mocking she perceived in the cursor's unrelenting blinking.

So, getting up, she went for the kitchen. Coffee actually wasn't the best answer. She already felt that strange combination of alertness and exhaustion that came from being over-caffeinated on too little sleep. But at least it would keep her (shaky) hands busy for a few minutes while she prepared it.

And it would give her a few more precious moments of procrastination! That thought put a bit of a spring in her step. There was just something so satisfying in procrastinating, in giving yourself permission to put off a task until the last possible moment.

Gwen started washing out the coffee pot, using far too much dish soap. The lavender scent of it filled the air.

She'd just finished drying it when someone knocked at the door.

It had to be either Beatrice or Aiden, she knew. Though Beatrice should be on campus at this time, so that left Aiden. Hopefully he was here to explain that little freak-out at Starbucks.

They knocked again.

"Coming!" Gwen said, annoyed. She rubbed her hands against her pants, trying to get rid of the clamminess from sticking them in hot, soapy water. It would be just the thing for Aiden to notice about her. He already knew that she wore glasses sometimes, and that her parents called her Gwenny. No need to let him think she had granny hands.

A third round of knocking started just when she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Rather than Aiden or Beatrice, a man in a dark suit, his hair slicked back, stuck a microphone in her face. His spray tan made him look orange, and his fake smile almost blinded her with the radiance of his artificially whitened teeth.

Behind him stood another man, a camera resting on his shoulder. A little red light blinked beneath the lens. That means it's recording, doesn't it? Gwen thought.

"Hi! I'm Rick Sanchez..." he started.

Gwen tried shutting the door. Rick stuck his foot beneath the jamb, that smile never leaving his face. She recognized him as the host from one of those celebrity gossip shows. Beatrice would probably know him better; she tended to follow that type of thing a lot more.

"Gwen, my viewers just want to know how things are going between you and Aiden Manning. Care to give us a sound bite?" Rick said. He thrust the microphone into the gap between door and frame. The movement wafted some of his cologne Gwen's way, tickling at her nose.

That was just what she needed, to sneeze all over a camera crew. And she could spare a hand to cover her face, either. Both hands did their best to shut the door in Rick's smug face.

Through some Herculean effort (and no small amount of wriggling her nose to get rid of the tickle) she suppressed her natural urge.


"No comment," she said. That's what people were always saying in movies and shows when they didn't want an interview, wasn't it? Of course, now that she thought about it, the people saying that were usually guilty of something or other, or trying to hide something.

But Rick was persistent. He kept his toes stuck beneath the door, and that microphone didn't tremble at all. "Are you sure? Maybe just a few words on the rumor?"

That gave Gwen pause. She stopped trying to throw all her weight against the door in the hopes that it might just slide right on over Rick's stupid foot. "What rumor?"

Rick's smile widened. Did one of his teeth actually glint? He looked like a greasy shark ready to swallow up an unsuspecting and adorable seal.

"Well, we got an interesting tip in an email. It said this whole thing between you and Aiden is nothing but a few signatures on some contract. Is that true? And if it is, why would someone like Aiden Manning need to buy himself a girlfriend? What's your take on all this, Gwen?"

I really need to start looking through the peephole, Gwen thought. An awful stew of feelings stirred in her stomach and tried to rise up her throat. This was Henry stepping up his game, she knew. Whatever else you said about the man, he worked quickly.

And it was clear that Rick wasn't leaving without getting something out of her. Especially not with that shiny (but now scuffed) shoe of his stuck almost halfway beneath her door.

Okay, okay, just be cool, she told herself. And she was grateful that she'd taken the time to make herself look presentable earlier. It wasn't much of a silver lining. A razor's edge of one, really. But you had to take them where you could get them.

Gwen started to smile, but kept it a closed-lip one. Her teeth were in pretty good shape, but virgin snow would look discolored next to Rick's chompers.

"Okay, um, what's between Aiden and me is real. That's all, thank you..."

She started closing the door again, but Rick didn't remove his foot. "And what is it between you and Aiden? Is it a legal document?"

"There's going to be a legal document between us if you don't take your foot out of my apartment. This is trespassing, you know," Gwen said, getting flustered again.

"Thank you, Gwen. I think that we can work with what I have," Rick said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. "If you're interested in coming to the studio for an interview..." he said, pulling his foot back finally.

Gwen seized the opportunity. She shut the door hard enough that the wall shook. Ever tenacious, Rick slipped the card through beneath the door. Gwen tore it up and tossed it into the trash.

On the bright side, she didn't need coffee anymore. Adrenaline pounded through her body, leaving her arms and legs shaky and her throat dry.