Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(62)

After she closes the door, I sit on the bed a little longer. Oddly, even though she listed all the reasons to be angry with Aiden, anger leaves me like smoke from a fume hood.

I take a deep breath and start organizing my ammunition for tomorrow. Terms of sale? Check. Supply of paperclips? Check. Dad’s picture so he can come too? Check. Baci chocolates for after? Check. Frantic heartbeat? Check and check.

The preparation takes only twenty minutes. The rest of the night is a different matter. I plug in my dinosaur stereo—a garage sale find—curl in bed and turn off the light. Lana croons quietly about million-dollar men with dangerous flaws.

I can’t be with you… Start living your own life.

His husky voice echoes in my head. I turn up the volume to drown it, afraid of another nightmare. But my heart pumps faster as if its beats are numbered. I recite the periodic table over the music to calm it. It doesn’t work and I know why. Because these aren’t nerves. It’s terror. Terror that he woke me up so I can feel too much. That he is saving me from ghosts only to haunt me. That he is giving me freedom, yet I’ve never felt more bound.

That this is still the end, not the beginning.





Chapter Twenty-Nine





The Heart Of Business


I wake up to the simultaneous sounds of a knock on my door and my alarm clock. Before I can blink, Reagan barges in with a curling iron.

“It’s your first million-dollar sale, and you’ll look like a million bucks.” She giggles.

I yawn and sit up. “Good one, Reg. We have three hours. Do your worst. Or best.”

After I shower, she sets herself loose on my hair. The whole time, she fires pearls of wisdom at top speed.

“Stay close to Denton. Don’t sit by Aiden because then you’ll smell the cologne and that’s a toughie. If you get all hot and bothered, say some Hail Marys and think of your period. Bloating, cramps, the works. Also, avoid being alone with him. An advanced guy like that only needs two minutes tops to break a woman. So, if he tries something like ‘Elisa, let me show you my office’, you say ‘thanks but no thanks’ because the moment that office door closes, you’re a goner. And anger works really well. Do you have any anger left?” she asks, brandishing the curling iron at me like a sword.

I shake my head. “No. It’s kind of hard to be mad at the man who is saving your life.”

“Sure, but it’s not like he’s doing charity. He’s getting a really cool invention in return and you’re investing the money in his companies so he’s not out anything. That’s why today, you can walk in there with your head up high.” She continues to point the curling iron at me as if I’m thinking of crawling on the floor at Aiden’s feet.

I nod, and that’s all the encouragement she needs. She’s off again. “Okay, so let’s practice. I’m Aiden, obviously.” She clears her throat and deepens her voice trying, and failing, to imitate the timbre of Mr. Sin. “Elisa, we should celebrate tonight. I own a multibillion-dollar club and there’s a table floating on water with ten thousand candles around it and unicorns for waiters. Would you like to go?”

I laugh. “No, Mr. Hale. But I do hope you and your unicorns have a marvelous romantic evening together.”

“Perfect,” Reagan says in her regular voice, and then switches to Aiden again.

Her scenarios get more and more ridiculous but this is exactly what I need. By the time she is finished with me, my cheeks hurt from laughing.

“There. You look just like young Liz Taylor,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

I look in the mirror and, as always, see Mum, from the dark hair and lashes to the dress. But this time, the image gives me strength. This is as good as I get.

“Reg, you’re a magician. I don’t think even Kate Middleton got this treatment the day she married Prince William.”

*

When Denton honks outside, I head for the door, Reagan behind me.

“Click those heels three times if you want to come home.” She winks. I give her a hug and skip past the pink rhododendrons in the front yard to Denton’s Prius.

When Denton sees me, he smiles proudly like a dad. “You’re all grown up, kid.” He laughs. “Ah, this is so exciting. I tell you, Isa, there’s no better day for a professor than seeing his student succeed.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I put as much gratitude as I can in my voice.

Denton starts driving slowly, like a driver’s ed instructor. I guess once a teacher, always a teacher. When we reach Fifth Avenue in downtown Portland, my palms get sweaty. I distract myself by helping Denton look for a parking spot. But we don’t need to. In front of HH’s headquarters, there is a man in a gray suit, two Dentons tall, holding a professional plaque that says MISS SNOW AND PROF. DENTON. Bloody hell, we have our own valet.

Denton stops his Prius, looking gobsmacked.

“Oh my, this is special treatment,” he chuckles, and gets out of the car. He looks like he is bouncing on his heels. He starts chatting up the valet who directs us to take one of the elevators to the fortieth floor before driving off with the Prius.

We climb the twenty marble steps to the revolving doors that let the masses in and out of the impressive edifice that houses HH. The high-rise curves like a modern rendition of an hourglass. Two columns stand sentinel on each side of the glass doors. The message is unmistakable: power, detachment, defense. If that’s not Aiden’s motto, I don’t know what is.