The Pretend Girlfriend

Chapter Twenty Four ~ Conference and Condo

**** Warning this chapter contains some sexual material. If you're not comfortable with this, than I suggest you to skip this chapter. Thank you****

Once Gwen and Aiden actually arrived at the Carbide Solutions building, Gwen's role became minimal. The press conference happened in a large room dedicated to that purpose, with a raised dais at one end on which sat a podium, and rows and rows of theatre-style seating facing it. It rather reminded Gwen of the White House press conference room always shown in the news and in probably hundreds of TV shows and movies. Except this one didn't have flags bearing the seal of the office of the president behind the speaker. Gwen sat in a chair on the stage which rested against the wall. From that spot, she could watch Aiden address the room full of reporters as he took position at the podium. Right away, a redhead in a pantsuit sitting in the front row stood and started asking him a question. Aiden silenced her with a raised hand and asked for people to hold their questions until the end of the conference.

For coming into this totally blindsided, with the only time to prepare being those precious few minutes in the car ride over, Aiden did well. Amazing well, really. He spoke as though he'd had a speech ready to go, talking about corporate responsibility, the obligation to take care of employees and see that they were treated well. The word "Family " came up a lot. The corporation was not just some soulless, faceless entity bent on extracting profit on the broken backs of its employees, as Aiden put it. No, they were all one large, intercultural, extended family. With obligations going both ways. He expertly segued into the topic of his charities and corporate clean-up measures, talking about how he was sure that with just a little more support, Carbide Solutions could live up to its promise of becoming an ethical business.

Gwen wished that she could stand by his side. Well, almost, that is. She wanted to help him and comfort him and give him whatever strength he needed, but she also didn't want to be the target of all those cameras and microphones and questions. The recent past taught her that she and reporters didn't mix well.

Although, one thing did surprise her. Aiden kept glancing back her way, shooting a quick look over his shoulder as though to reassure himself that Gwen didn't take this opportunity to beat a hasty retreat and leave him to his own devices. Each time she caught him doing it, she smiled and nodded. And each time he would turn back to the press as though recharged. It was amazing how he changed when beheld by the lens of a camera. Rather than the reserved, self-conscious man he was in private, he became animated, confident in the extreme. Unwavering in his faith to the company. It must take so much out of him, Gwen thought.

About halfway through the conference, he started gripping the podium. At first, Gwen took it as a sign of his fervor and passion. But from the way he kept his knees locked, she realized it was to hold himself up. From that point, she just wanted it to end. How could they do this to him? Demand he stand there for an hour talking about something that his father had done to sabotage him? Was Henry watching this broadcast from some huge room filled with gaudy paintings and varnished bookcases? He probably was. There was probably a glass of expensive scotch or brandy clutched in his hand, which he swirled gently while a small, devilish smile curled only one corner of his mouth.

But then, mercifully, thankfully, the conference ended. Sweat glistened on the back of Aiden's neck, and his knuckles turned white with the effort of gripping that podium. He'd apparently done such a great job that not a single reporter had an additional question for him. Not even the redhead in the pantsuit. They filed out of the room, Aiden watching them as they went. A company aide came over to begin disconnecting the A/ V equipment. When Gwen checked her phone, she gasped. It was nearly midnight! Now that she saw that, she did feel a weary weight behind her eyes. Probably a combination of tiredness and the unrelenting glare of the fluorescent bulbs above her. Her stiff legs complained when she levered herself out of the chair, and she resisted the urge to press her hands into the small of her back and stretch. And there was something else inside, too, intertwined with the exhaustion. A sort of manic energy that she knew would keep her from going to sleep for hours. If I feel like this, how must Aiden feel? Gwen wondered.