“I told you. I like you as much—”
Oh my word. I was dealing with a brick wall. My eye almost twitched as I fought the urge to not make a pun about his nickname. “As you like anyone. Is that why you let Trevor talk about me? Because you like me?”
His hand went up to rub at the side of his neck, a color that was nearly pink staining his cheeks. “I do—” he started to argue. The pink managed to make its way down to his throat.
Damn it.
I had to count to six, my spine going rigid as I did it. My vocal chords went tight. This was so pointless. “Fine. Fine, Aiden. I don’t even know what the hell that means, but okay; you’ve sure shown me in the last two years. Now you don’t have an assistant and you want to become a resident and you’re here. That seems real genuine, don’t you think? But okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you can tolerate me for some strange reason, and you didn’t want me to get all conceited so you didn’t make it noticeable.” That sounded like total bullshit to my ears. “How about, what you’re asking me to do is a felony? I could go to jail and you could get deported? What about that?”
“It’s only illegal if you get caught.”
My mouth dropped open. I was at a total loss for words. Was this a dream? Was this even real life?
“I have a plan,” he concluded in that low, low voice that reminded me of an eighteen-wheeler revving its engine.
Too late, I had a feeling this was a lost cause. “The government takes this stuff seriously, you know. I would be the one going to jail, not you.” Okay, I didn’t know if I would really get jail time or not, but maybe.
“I’ve done my research. I have a plan.”
Here he went with his freaking plan again. “I have a plan too, and part of my plan isn’t to marry someone to help them get their immigration paperwork together. I’m sorry, Aiden. I’m really sorry, but you’re in about the best place you can be to find someone to marry you if that’s what you want. You shouldn’t have to though. Maybe you can pay somebody a lot of money to fast track your paperwork.”
“Getting married is the best way to go about it.” He paused. His big hands visibly clenched at his sides, and I swore he looked even bigger in that moment. “I don’t want another visa.”
My heart reacted a little because it was weak and pathetic, and because I felt like a jerk for telling him no. I hated not helping people who needed it. But this was ridiculous. Here was a man who had never been particularly kind to me or tried to be my friend until I’d quit on him. Now it seemed like he was asking the world of me, and I didn’t feel entitled to give it to him. “I don’t know what to tell you.” I shook my head. “You’re out of your mind. I’m not doing it, and I don’t know where you’re getting the balls to ask me to.”
His gaze locked on mine, irrepressible and unflinching, like I hadn’t just told him no again. His chin tipped up as his lips disappeared for a moment, curling behind his teeth. Teeth that I knew were white and perfect. “You’re that mad at me?”
I aimed my imaginary gun in his direction and pulled the trigger before taking a deep breath to calm myself. “Even if I would have left on good terms, I still wouldn’t go back to work for you, much less help you get your visa or your residency, or whatever it is you want to do.”
His eyes roamed my face slowly, making me extremely aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing makeup… or a stinking bra. Luckily, I’d only seen Aiden look at something other than my face once, and that had been that night when he’d showed up and I had been in a short dress. Then again, I’d also never seen him glance at a woman’s chest or ass either. He’d told the media a dozen times in the past how he didn’t have time for relationships, and he was right. He didn’t. “I can see it in your face, Vanessa,” he stated, making me temporarily ignore the situation I was in.
The word stupid ricocheted around in my head. “I haven’t been mad at you since I walked out of your house.”
“You’re lying. You’re making that face you do when you’re trying not to show you’re angry,” he explained, even as his gaze stretched over me, making me feel pretty self-conscious.
“I’m not,” I practically grunted out.
His impassive face said what words didn’t. Liar.
I lost it. I was hungry, grumpy, and irritated. That was the absolute truth. From the way a vein in my forehead pulsed, I was still holding a not-so-insignificant amount of residual anger toward him too. “Okay. Fine. Yes, I’m still a little pissed at you. You let Trevor of all people talk about me behind my back.” I blinked. “Trevor.” By that point, my blood didn’t know whether to rush to my face or away from it. “Trevor would sell his own kid for a price. Maybe we’re not friends, but you have to have known I cared about you a lot more than fucking Trevor.”
Just saying his name aloud made me angry, and I had to tell myself to reel it in.
One, two, three, four, five.
I bit the inside of my cheek and blinked at him. “You’ve never said a single freaking ‘sorry’ to me ever. Do you understand how rude that is? You never apologize for anything, anything. After everything I did for you, everything I’ve ever done for you, things that went above being just your employee, and you just… I would never, ever let anyone talk shit about you,” I said, making sure his gaze met mine when I said it so he could understand, or at least see, that I wasn’t just being an asshole to be an asshole.
“On top of that, you were acting like a major prick before I quit,” I accused him, feeling that familiar burn of disappointment scorch my chest. “Why would I want to do anything for you? There’s no loyalty between us. We aren’t friends.” I shrugged. “You might not know anything about me, but I know almost everything there is to know about you, and that means nothing now. I’m done. I respected you. I admired you, and you just… didn’t care. I don’t know how you can expect me to brush all that off as nothing.”
Honestly, I was surprised I’d lost it, and I might have been even more shocked that I wasn’t panting at the end of my spiel.
The vein in my head was pulsing. My hands fisted, and I felt angrier than ever in the past. Yet, when I really focused in on the hoodie-wearing man standing five feet away in the hallway of my apartment, I couldn’t help but pause.
The cords in his neck pulled taut. The hard slashes of his cheekbones seemed more prominent than ever. But it was the emotion in the shape of his mouth that I had never seen before. “You’re right.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t expect him to sort of apologize—a small part of me, did. But…
What?
“I shouldn’t have let him say that.”
“No shit.”
He ignored my comment. “I should have treated you better.”
Was I supposed to disagree?
As if sensing how much his words were failing, Aiden’s shoulders pulled back in resolution. “I’m sorry.”
My hands opened and closed at my sides. I wasn’t sure what to say, even as I tried to steady the angry beat of my heart.