Page 63 of The Princess and the Fraud

While he went for the light switches, I grabbed the bucket we’d been throwing the dirty rags in all day. “I’ll take these over to the laundry,” I told him. “You all set?”

He nodded. “Have a good night, Lovey.”

Alderton-Du Ponte used Massey Suites’ laundry facility for their wash. All departments were in charge of taking their own linen to the laundry room. I swung the rag bucket back and forth as I walked down the Alderton-Du Ponte hallway. My shift had been long, and my body felt worn thin, twisted like a towel. I’d been bounced all over the Alderton-Du Ponte grounds these past few days, and I couldn’t wait until the Spring Has Sprung fundraiser to pass for everything to go back to normal.

But a week after the fundraiser was the Everview auction, and then mynormalwould be different. I’d have a house to go home to, not my apartment. A house that, according to the auction’s website, needed alotof work. Probably more than the hefty number that sat in my bank account.

But at least I’d be attacking it with a leg up. If I hadn’t discovered Aaron’s secret ruse to woo Fiona, I’d put everything I owned into justbuyingthe house, if I’d been able to pre-qualify for that loan at all. No, I couldn’t worry about renovations or repairs or anything like that. It would all work out. It had to.

Except the knot in my stomach wouldn’t loosen. It stayed there, tightening with every passing moment, refusing to give me peace.

When I came out of the walkway from the country club and into the hotel lobby, I looked to the front desk, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Paige, who slumped over the front desk and not-so-discreetly texted underneath the counter, jumped up. “Hey! Mr. Roberts asked me to cover the front desk until Justin came in for the night shift. I’m here til eleven.”

“Eleven.” I quirked my lips to the side, peering up at the clock that hung on the lobby’s wall. “Want me to wait for you?”

She shook her head. “Go home. Get some rest before your shift in the morning. We’re on lifeguard duty, so we’ll need all the energy we can get.” The front desk’s phone began ringing. Paige straightened, fumbling for the receiver, anxiety hitting her in an instant. “H-Hello?”

I propped my elbow on the counter, mouthing what she was supposed to say.

“Oh, uh, front desk speaking!” Paige shot me a stressed look. “Extra towels? Of course! How many would you like?”

I swung the bag of rags lightly as I listened, but I couldn’t hear anything more than a male voice on the other end. When Paige hung up, I asked, “How many towels?”

“Two body towels and an extra bathmat.” She gave me her widest puppy dog eyes. “Are you going to offer to run them up there?”

“I kind of have to, since you can’t leave the front desk unattended.”

She gave a small gasp when it occurred to her. “Oh.”

Knocking my knuckles on the front desk once, I stepped away. “What room number?”

“803. And use the east elevator—I’m supposed to lock the other one. You’re the best!”

803. Right next to 801. Aaron’s room.

I pressed my lips together as I headed toward the laundry room. It was almost ten o’clock at night—I shouldn’t even be thinking about knocking on Aaron’s door. To do what? Sayhello? I could check in to see how everything settled with Fiona, if she took up the offer of a spa day after the incident with the flowers. Surely, he hadn’t proposed yet. That sort of news would’ve been around Alderton-Du Ponte in a heartbeat.

Don’t even think about it, Lovisa Hahn.

I dumped the rags in the dirty laundry bin and loaded up from the fresh linen shelf. With a plethora of towels in my arms, I used the elevator that was attached to the laundry room, stepping on and pressing the eighth floor.

I closed my eyes, body weary. This week had been long—Monday, I’d showed Aaron the theater, and nearly concussed myself in the process. Tuesday I’d been in the tearoom. Today, I’d been in the restaurant.

I don’t have to worry about you, do I, Lovisa?The tilt to Mr. Holland’s words still echoed in my mind, crawling under my skin. I wondered if Grant knew his father had known about our relationship. I wondered how long Mr. Holland had known. It made me wonder a lot of things.

The elevator doors slowed on the third floor, and I stepped back further into the box, creating a wide berth of space for whoever to get on.

And when the doors parted to reveal the person waiting on the other side, my stomach dipped.

Aaron Astor stood in a pair of dark joggers and a baggy hoodie, and at first glance, looked the picture of casual wear. Before I could be too impressed by the rumpled look, I spotted the Malstoni logo on the hoodie’s breast. Even his comfy clothes were designer.

He started to step on the elevator when he looked up at me, blinking as he froze. “Youarefollowing me,” he said, but instead of the accusatory tone, this time his lips tugged.

I arched a brow. “Didn’t realize I needed to point out the obvious, but I was on the elevator first.”

Now, Aaron’s mouth pulled up into a closed-lipped smile. “You’re here late,” he murmured as he stepped into the elevator. He cast a glance toward my armful of towels before reaching for the eighth floor—and dropping his hand when he realized I’d already pressed the button. “Running errands?”

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