Page 31 of The Producer: Aaron

“I didn’t want to go out with Serena. She is with some guy she met at an audition, and she is already drunk from the messages she’s sending me,” I admit with embarrassment since my social life is the same as a ninety-year-old lady.

Aaron pauses to study me for a few moments before pulling out the ingredients he needs from the fridge. He places a pack of vegetables on the counter and then rests his hands on the white marble, pausing to look at my face.

“Don’t you miss having a normal life? Going out with friends and everything else?”

I shrug and help him put the cheese cubes he has already finished cutting into a bowl. I don’t know how to explain to him that in high school, I was the most introverted in my class, and I wasn’t invited to parties. I have always preferred the chess club to cheerleaders, and I wasn’t very popular.

“I didn’t have a great social life even before I moved. I’m not a hermit, but I often prefer to read a book rather than deal with people,” I admit, pulling a smile from him.

“Do you like the booksIgave you?”

“I love them. There’s the fantasy series that’s driving me crazy.I’m five books into it, and it’s exceeding all my expectations. You should really opt it for a TV series. A film would not be enough to do it justice.”

He looks at me with a smile on his lips that he struggles to hold. I know that this is not my job, but I feel satisfaction in suggesting something to him that, in my opinion, is worth studying more thoroughly.

“You know what? Why don’t you lend me the first book, and tonight we can sit on the couch reading? Maybe you’re right, and I can stay glued to the pages all night.”

It’s my turn to study him for a few moments.

“How come a successful man like you doesn’t have anything to do on a Saturday night?”

“It’s the first time in months I don’t have a dinner or a business meeting on the weekend, and I enjoy my home. Do I look like a loser?” He chuckles.

“No, it just seems strange to me. I can tell you don’t lack charm nor women drooling all over you. It wouldn’t be strange if you had someone claiming your presence on a Saturday night for something not work-related.”

Aaron stops seasoning the salad and turns completely, devoting his full attention to me. His gaze nails me on the spot, making me a little embarrassed.

“Is this your way of asking me if I’m single?” he asks with a half-amused grin on his lips.

“No, that’s clearly your business. But you have a list of models constantly circling around you like sharks…” What the hell do I want to know, exactly? If I can hit on him? On what planet could someone like Aaron even consider someone like me?

“For work, sure. I have been photographed with many models on the different red carpets. It’s something our publicists organize. Advertising for both.”

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow. Since he is in the moodfor confessions, I see nothing wrong with taking advantage of it.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never taken any of them to bed. I’m not a naïve girl. I see how some of them strip you naked with their eyes, and the same goes for you. That attraction cannot be faked, not even for work.” I challenge him to contradict me.

He bursts out laughing and shakes his head.

“I never said it didn’t happen, just that it was always something occasional, nothing that ever made it through the night.”

“Well, that is more realistic,” I laugh, and he joins me.

The conversation quickly slips into a less personal but no less pleasant topic. Aaron loves to explain to me how the world of film production works. When I ask him to explain what could hypothetically happen if he were to opt for the series I like, he launches into a detailed description of the whole production process of a film. I could spend hours listening to him tell me something he’s passionate about.

***

When Aaron said he would read next to me on the couch, he wasn’t kidding. After dinner, he went to his studio to get a pair of glasses and got comfortable next to me with the first book in the fantasy series I’m reading. If I thought he couldn’t be sexier, I was wrong. With his thick black frames and the concentration on his face, he is a vision that overshadows even the spicy scenes of the book I have in my hands. Several times I’ve found myself staring at him, losing the thread of my reading.

“Holy Christ,” I hear him mumble for the umpteenth time.

I lower the book and watch him widen his eyes as he reads. I drag myself over the couch until I lean on his shoulder and peek at how far he has come. It’s past four in the morning, and he has never stopped reading.

“Chapter twenty-seven. Yes, that really deserves a Holy Christ.” I laugh, amused by the bewilderment on his face.

He puts the book on his legs using a receipt as a bookmark andlooks at me with wide eyes.

“This is porn! Do they really publish such explicit things? I mean, I’ve read my good dose of novels with sex inside, but usually, they were not so…graphic in their descriptions. It’s porn with people with pointed ears,” he blurts out.

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