Prince Player(88)

I grin at her. “Seriously?”

“It’s good, okay? Gets me every time.”

“You wimp.”

“I’m a big sap.” She laughs and sits down on the bed. “You’re here early,” she says, looking at me.

I sit down on the bed next to her. “I couldn’t stay at work.”

“Rough day?”

I shake my head. “I just kept thinking about you.”

She looks at me, and for a second I see genuine excitement in her eyes. But it quickly passes. “Really?” she asks.

“Really.” I reach out and put my hand on her leg. She’s wearing yoga pants and a white t-shirt, though her hair is done and she’s wearing makeup. I suspect this is her attempt at compromise. She wants to be herself, but she still needs to play her part. It’s good enough, at least for now.

“I was hoping you’d have dinner with me,” I say.

“Of course.”

“You didn’t eat yet?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve always been a late eater.”

“Me too.” There’s a knock at the door and I stand, heading over to it. Jenkins is outside with a meal cart. I give him a little thanks nod and take it from him, wheeling it back inside.

Aria goes to set the table up, but I wave her off. “This way,” I say. I walk over to the back of the room and pull back the curtain. I unlatch the window and pull it open, revealing the balcony.

She blinks, clearly surprised. “It’s gorgeous out here. I had no clue.”

“Good. It was meant to be a surprise.” I wheel the cart out onto the balcony and she follows.

There’s a small table, some chairs, and the view is amazing. It looks out across Old City, at all the historic buildings. The room-length curtains hid this from her view and apparently she didn’t explore her surroundings too much. That tells me a little something about her.

“It’s really beautiful,” she says again, smiling and looking out at the city lights.

“I love it out here,” I say. “This is the only room with a balcony like this.”

“Really? Yours doesn’t have one?”

“I know. Horrible.”

She laughs. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, this house is amazing.”

“I tried to keep the outside as original as possible, and this was the only original balcony.” I park the cart and begin putting our meal onto the table. There’s a cut of steak and a baked potato for me and what looks like a Caesar salad for her, which I’m guessing is what she asked for at some point. Michelle is very good at learning her guests’ preferences.

“Sit,” I say, pulling her seat out, and she sits. I pour myself a drink of whisky from the cart and sit down across from her. I sip my drink as she starts eating.

I take a bite of my steak, but I’m not really hungry. That’s not the purpose of this little meal, anyway.

“What’s your real name?” I ask her suddenly.

She looks up at me, surprised. “Aria,” she says.

I cock my head. “Really? You used your real name?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t want to have to learn a new one. I figured it’s easier this way.”

“Pretty name,” I say, and I know she’s not lying.

“Thanks. One of the nicest things my mother ever gave me.” Her joke sounds rehearsed, like it’s one she’s made many times before, and I smile.

“Were you and your mother close?” I ask.

“No,” she says, and goes back to eating.

Interesting. Her family life is a touchy subject.

“Can I ask you how you got into this business?”

She shrugs again. “I’ll tell you. But I don’t think you want to know.”

“Why not?”

She puts down her fork and cocks her head at me. “It’ll ruin the fantasy, won’t it?”

“Not at all,” I say. “You’re the fantasy, Aria. The real you.”

“You don’t want the real me,” she says, looking down at her plate.

I lean toward her. “Try me.”

“I’m not like you, Ethan,” she says. “I don’t have anything.”

“Having things doesn’t make a person,” I say.

“I’ve made mistakes.”

“We all have.” I reach my hand out and put it on hers. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. But I want you to know that I want to know, and I’m not afraid of the answers.”

She looks me in the eye and I can see something there, but I’m not sure what it is. I hope she understands that I’m being sincere. I assume something happened to force her into this job. Maybe it’s not a bad thing that forced her to do it, or maybe it is. I can’t really say, but I can accept it either way. We all have a past, but I don’t judge her based on that.