Page 82 of Total Creative Control

“Sorry,” she said, lashes lowering. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine. You’re fine.” He forced a smile. “Lewis can be...difficult. But he’s a good man. Really. He’s just…”In painwas what sprang to mind. Not the superficial hurt of Aaron’s leaving, that’s not what he meant, but the deep-down pain that had grown into Lewis’s bones. Old pain. Aaron wished Lewis had someone to help him heal those old wounds; he wished that someone could have been himself.

“Leechesmeans a lot to him,” he went on. “It’s his baby. He hates Telopix messing around with it, and he hates having to let them.”

“So why doesn’t he just say no deal? He ownsLeeches, right? It’s not RPP’s call.”

“Yeah, but like I said, Lewis is one of the good guys. He might rant and rave, but he wouldn’t scupper the deal and let RPP lose out on that revenue. Not unless there was something he really couldn’t live with.”

And if he could live with tearing Faolán in half, he could probably live with anything.

The office was starting to fill up by then, Libby and Marc coming in and bitching about the weather as they dried off. Toni, when she appeared, looked as immaculate as ever. But that was because she always took a cab to work. Perks of being the Head of Drama.

Aaron found himself thinking about how Lewis had come in today. He'd probably walked, never mind the weather, because his flat was only half a mile away and he hated public transport. And cabs. Aaron always made sure there were a couple of changes of clothes in his office, for the days when the weather was crap. Or for when Lewis pulled an all-nighter.

That was, Aaronhadalways made sure there were a couple of changes of clothes in his office. If Lewis spent the day in damp socks today, it wouldn’t be Aaron’s fault. And, for God’s sake, he shouldn't even be thinking about it!

Irritated with himself, he checked his email. Unlike in his old job, he didn’t have to keep an eye on his inbox all the time, and so didn’t bother opening it up during the quiet, early hours of the day. That helped him focus on his editing, and what a joy it was to have real time for that rather than squeezing it in around his PA work.

This morning, there was nothing urgent waiting for him. He scrolled through idly, deleting as he went. There were a couple of flirty messages from Tag O’Rourke, who’d recently landed a role in theBow Streetpilot. Aaron was delighted for him, but still hadn’t agreed to go out for drinks despite Tag’s continued charm offensive. And hewascharming. Young and eager, objectively gorgeous. Just not really Aaron’s type.

Aaron’s type was tall, dark, and Lewis.

Plus, Tag didnotneed to be dating a guy with Aaron’s kind of baggage.

Still, it wasn’t like Tag was suggesting they move in together. Maybe a light, flirty fling was just what Aaron needed to wash Lewis out of his hair?

And, ugh, hadn’t he given Mason that exact same advice?

He continued scrolling and then stopped, his heart giving a ridiculous jolt at the sight of Lewis’s name in his inbox. It was the first time Lewis had contacted him since Safehaven, the first time he’d done anything but awkwardly grunt in Aaron’s direction when they’d both mistimed things badly enough to end up in the kitchen together or were forced to pass each other in the corridor.

Despite all that, Aaron couldn’t suppress a spike of excitement. Or a smile, because he’d always been amused by the way Lewis approached email as a form of messaging and wrote most of the email in the subject line.

From: Lewis Hunter

To: Aaron Page

Subject: I need the latest Leeches series bible for Telopix because they don’t fucking understand what the show is about

——————————————————————

I can’t find it

Kind regards,

Lewis

Lewis Hunter

Creative Director

Reclined Pigeon Productions

Charecroft Way

London

The ‘Kind regards’ were part of the automatic signature Aaron had appended to his emails, so he was under no illusion that Lewis was sending him his regards, kind or otherwise. He sighed, mostly at the way his stomach was still leaping about like a landed fish. Really, he should tell Lewis to find his own damned file, but—