The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(55)

Gwen laughed, "Well, at least it sounded cooler."

"Oh, you have no idea how much that annoyed old Henry," Aiden replied. It was the only time Gwen saw him become wistful at a memory of his father. Usually, he spoke the man's name like anyone else would talk about the bill collector who wouldn't stop calling.

"I bet your mom thought it was cute," Gwen said. She'd been wondering about the elusive Mrs. Henry Manning. There had been absolutely no information about her in the Wikipedia article, and Aiden had yet to mention her. She thought this might be her "in."

But her words wrought an entirely unexpected effect. The smile disappeared from Aiden's face, wiped away as though it had never been. He sat back and sighed that deep philosophical sigh.

"I suppose," he said, then, changing the subject, "I hope things are going well with you?"

Gwen didn't pursue the mom thing anymore. It was clearly a delicate issue. Almost as delicate and precarious as this sudden good mood and rapport the two of them had established.

"Well, I have an essay due soon. And a midterm that I'm disgustingly unprepared for..."

"Then I suppose I'll have to try and not keep you for too long," Aiden said.

"What do you mean? Hey, why are we going over the bridge? Aren't you dropping me off at my place?"

She'd been too engrossed in her own memories, and far too distracted by Aiden, to pay attention to where the car headed. Concentrating, she managed to recollect a point several minutes ago when the car slowed down for a while. Probably to pay the toll to get onto the island, she realized.

Looking out the window, she saw the now-familiar sight of the river flashing by below.

"Change of plans," Aiden said.

"Aiden Manning, where are you taking me?"

He shrugged, seeming more and more like the young man he was rather than the aloof businessman he usually pretended to be. He must have smiled more in the past two hours than in the past month. "You've been kind enough to let me into your apartment several times. I figured it was only fair you see my place. I mean, we are dating, aren't we?"

"Oh," Gwen replied. His place, she thought, followed by: Gulp. His place made her think of that still vivid dream from the other night. And thinking about that left her squirming in the seat, wondering how the limo could get so hot in just a few seconds.

Aiden noticed, "Are you okay? Should I crack a window?"

"What? No, no. I'm fine. My... thigh fell asleep is all. It's better now. So... your place? I think I could put off my essay until later. If you really insist."

"I really do," he said. She couldn't tell if he bought the thigh thing, but it was the best she could come up with, so it would have to do.

Aiden lived in an older building on the Upper West Side. And, to her surprise, he actually didn't have the penthouse. No, he lived on floor 12 of 15, in a two bedroom unit. One bedroom, he said, was converted into an office.


On the outside, and in the main lobby, the building actually didn't look that much different from Gwen's. Very unassuming. Of course, everything looked a bit better taken care of. The carpet runners weren't worn out for one. And the elevators actually had air vents.

They reached Aiden's unit, and he fished the keys out of his pocket, sorting through them for the right one. "It's kind of disorganized at the moment, so I hope you'll excuse the mess."

Gwen thought about the state of her bedroom. Piles of unsorted laundry in the corner. Bed perpetually unmade. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ran a vacuum through the place. "I'll try," she said.

Aiden pushed open the door, Gwen holding her breath. She let it out when she saw hardwood floors instead of polished concrete.

And there was no modern art on the walls. There was a framed Casablanca poster, as well as several black-and-white prints of interesting architecture. The Eiffel Tower hung on the wall beside the door. Big Ben watched from down at the end of the hall. She saw part of the Roman Coliseum where the hall made a ninety degree turn.

It was nothing like his father's office, with the enormous original paintings and the lofty ceilings designed to knock viewers off kilter with their magnitude.

"You're right," Gwen said, "This place is a wreck!"

Aiden waved her in, following behind. Her heartbeat kicked up a few notches when she heard the door close behind her. I'm alone with Aiden in his condo, she thought. It wasn't the most rational of feelings; she'd been alone with Aiden in her own apartment more than once now. Why should things be any different here than there?

The answer to that was obvious as well: the dream. In her dream, they'd been here. Or rather, the place she conceived of in her subconscious as here. The differences between Aiden's imaginary condo and his real one disconcerted her.

"Is something the matter?" Aiden said.

She realized that she was standing in front of him in the hallway, preventing him from going any farther in. He spent the time removing his shoes. Seeing that, she kicked hers off.

"No, nothing. I was just thinking of how messy it looks, you know," she said, winking.

"Indeed. So, how about the grand tour?" Aiden said, offering his arm. Gwen accepted, linking their arms together.

The entry hall went forward, then made a sharp left where it let into the living room. It was a large space, with bay windows at the other end. The wide sill running along beneath these windows served as a bookshelf. While it was clear from the quality of the furniture that Aiden had money, it was also clear that he preferred understatement to excess. Sure, the pieces were expensive, but they would have looked at home in normal house or apartment.