I watch the screen, waiting for his response, but nothing comes. Maybe he fell asleep.
Just as I set the phone down and open a package of peach rings, the phonerings.
Aaron Smith calling.
I blink, but slide the button to answer the phone.
“Hello?”
All I hear for a moment is heavy breathing, and I start to wonder if he is indeed drunk or something.
“So that’s what you sound like,” he says, and his voice is smooth. Deep. Like silk.
Fuck, that’s an audiobook voice if I’ve ever heard one.
I have to clear my own throat and remember how to speak because I wasn’t expectingthat.Especially given the tone of his flirty, somewhat awkward texts.
“What exactly do I sound like?” I ask, pushing off of my counter.
Aaron’s heavy breath returns. “Like Prince Charming.”
I chuckle at that. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone’s called me that, but hearinghisvoice say it, it feels sexier than it should be.
“Is that who you want me to be, Aaron? Prince Charming?”
Aaron sighs. “I want you to be perfect. So perfect my fucking family won’t have a reason to deny me what’s rightfully mine.”
There’s an edge in his voice, but then again Bella said Chris mentioned this guy’s parents were pushy and this event is a family thing, so I guess whatever it is, it’s important to him, otherwise he wouldn’t be so intent on hiring me so urgently.And paying extra.
But beneath the bitterness of his voice, there’s also a deep rasp, and then I hear the clink of a glass.
And I just know. Call it a hunch. I’ve done this too many times to count. I can identify the sound of a glass a mile away.
“Are you drunk?”
Aaron mutters his response. “Not yet. But I will be before the night is over if I can help it.”
I don't hear any noise outside of his glass, which tells me he’s probably alone. In his hotel or something, and something about that pulls on my heart. Drinking alone sucks.
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I wanted to go over the rules with him, but if he gets too drunk to remember this conversation, I may have to repeat myself tomorrow.
I should probably hang up and call him back in the morning, but something in the bitterness of his voice calls to me, and I don’t hang up.
Instead, I find myself saying, “Ouch. Rough night?”
Aaron grunts on the other end. “Don’t even get me started.”
I hear the annoyance, the sadness in his voice.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Aaron grunts on the other end, the ice cubes tinkling in the glass evident in the background. Taylor croons on in my space about pain fitting inside someone’s hand. The soft melody covers me like the ivy she sings about.
“That’s not what I’m paying you for,” he says, and I can hear the pain in his voice.
“You’re not paying me yet. We’re just getting to know one another. You know, so I can beperfectfor you.”
Aaron sighs, and I hear the glass clink once more.
