Page 11 of The Princess and the Fraud

Then Ireallylooked at him, and it hit me with the weight of a freight train that ended up knocking the wind out of me.

It was him. The guy from the fire in June.

Aaron Astor.

Last June, I’d almost convinced myself I’d hallucinated my conversation with Aaron Astor—that the man seated across from me had been, in fact, lying about his identity. The Aaron Astor I’d come to learn about the following day was cruel, conniving, willing to sacrifice anything—anyone—in order to get what he wanted. He was not someone who’d crack jokes and profess a love for music. He was not someone even remotely charming enough to flirt with. He was a snake, through and through.

A snake who hid in rosebushes, apparently.

“Quite the diligent one, aren’t you?” Aaron asked in an obviously flirting voice now, lips pulling up into an equally toying smirk. “Well, the beautiful ones always are, aren’t they?”

I wasn’t unused to being flattered, but it mostly came from rich men in their fifties or sixties, riding the high of ogling the pretty staff. I’d gotten used to letting it roll right off my back, but this was Aaron Astor. Aaron Astor, who seemingly did not remember me from June.

I hated how furious it made me feel.

When I focused on his face, I caught his expression change. It’d gone from tight around the eyes, which couldn’t seem to focus on any one spot, tocalm. It was like a mask overlaid his features as he forced his melting gaze to mine. “Well, my dear.” He took a half step closer, clearly intending to slip past me. “I should be on my way?—”

“This is a closed party,” I told him. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I was invited, Ms…” He looked at my teal polo, but there was no nametag—only the embroidered Alderton-Du Ponte emblem.

“You don’t have a visitor’s badge,” I said instead of answering him. “Guests are required to have a visitor’s pass—and be accompanied by the member they’re with at all times.”

“Are you insinuating I snuck in here?Willingly? There are a million places I’d rather be, my dear, and Alderton-Du Ponte is not one of them.” Aaron seemed to fight for patience. “I’m a friend of Michael Huntsly?—”

“Who is not a member here.”

“He’smarriedto one,” he all but snapped. His dedication to flirtation didn’t last long. “Annalise Conan? You have to at least knowthatname. They had their wedding here last June? Where Margot Massey flipped the dessert table? I was the best man.”

The longer time stretched and not even atrickleof recognition sank in, the more offended I became. I thought about playing dumb, but instead decided to wield a different dagger. “Right,” I said, drawing a slow breath through my nose. “Aaron Astor.”

His face cleared. He was back to the calm, appeased expression, incorrectly assuming my words were flirting back. “Ah, so youdoremember me.”

“You look quite different when you’re not on your knees in front of your mother, begging her not to disown you.”

The words hit their mark. Aaron froze. Those with money, I found upon working here, had short fuses and hated when someone pointed out where they lacked. Aaron’s face went red, but not with anger—embarrassment. It was clear in the way it flushed his cheeks and bit at his ears, almost as if it were winter and he’d stepped out into the cold.

The night before Annalise’s wedding hadn’t been the last time I’d seen Aaron Astor. It’d been the next night, in the very same courtyard we stood in now. After Margot Massey went up to Annalise’s dessert table and flipped it over, sending gilded cupcakes and edible pearls all over the dancefloor, Mr. Roberts had sent me to find the Masseys, who had missed the meltdown entirely. Instead of finding the owners of the hotel, I’d stumbled upon Aaron and his parents out here. Away from the prying eyes, the eavesdropping ears—away from everyone except for Lovisa Hahn.

Don’t do this, Aaron had begged his mother as he knelt before her. He’d even gone as far as to grip the strap of her sandal.I’ll do better. I promise.

His mother’s response was quiet, cold.You’ve done this to yourself.

“Yes. Well.” Aaron tried an awkward smile now, but this time, it almost seemed genuine. “Not one of my finer moments.”

You saw me during an embarrassing moment, I thought to him.You just don’t remember. I should’ve been happy he didn’t recognize me. Relieved. I didn’t know why I wasangry.

“All right,” Aaron said, sighing. “All right. Fine. I’m touring the facility, if you must know. I simply got… separated from my group.”

“Touring,” I echoed.

“With Rhythms of Hope.”

That made me pause. Mr. Roberts said the figureheads were at the workout facility—and he didnotmention that Aaron Astor was in the group with the charity. Besides, the two didn’t seem like they should’ve gone together. Aaron Astor, who had tried to marry someone for their money, had a soft spot for a music charity?

Maybe for a tax write-off.

“Michael and Annalise are here, too,” he insisted. “They’re—here. Somewhere. I don’t know where. I got lost.”

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