Page 14 of Pretend To Be Mine

“That seems unfair,” I murmured.

“Fair doesn’t enter into it. What matters is controlling the story. And right now, the story is working against us.”

I was pretty sure I must have missed part of the conversation because I didn’t understand what he was saying.

“Okay.”

Dammit. I sounded like an idiot. I couldn’t seem to be able to form complete sentences.

He smirked, clearly enjoying just how uncomfortable I was. It was embarrassing.

“I need a fiancée. Someone to stand beside me at events, do interviews, convince the world that I understand love and commitment. It’s purely for show. A business arrangement with a clear end date.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “O-o-kay.”

“I know it’s strange,” he said. “I feel odd even asking. But your brother suggested you might be interested, and frankly, I trust his judgment. You’re someone I can count on to be discreet. Someone who understands the fashion world enough to handle the pressure.”

I didn’t understand and that made me feel so ridiculous. Could I ask? Would that make me sound like a complete imbecile?

“I’m sorry, but what?”

“Elizabeth, I would like you to pretend to be my fiancée, and in exchange for your time, I’ll set you up with a position at Blackwell Couture after Fashion of Love Week concludes. A real job, with real opportunities. A chance to build your career.”

A job at Blackwell Couture.

This was what I’d been dreaming about since I was a little girl. This was the door that had been slammed in my face over and over and now it was swinging open.

All I had to do was pretend to be in love with Adrian Blackwell for a little while.

I thought about standing on a stage with Adrian Blackwell, cameras flashing, the world watching. The idea terrified me.

“Yes,” I heard myself say. “I’ll do it.”

5

ADRIAN

Elizabeth sat perfectly still in the chair across from my desk, hands folded in her lap. I wasn’t entirely sure she was breathing. The poor thing looked terrified. Did she really say yes? I wasn’t entirely sure she understood what she was agreeing to.

“Yes?” I repeated. “Yes, you’ll pretend to be engaged to me?”

She nodded, but she wouldn’t look me directly in the eyes.

I studied her as she sat there. Chris had mentioned she was pretty, but that was an understatement. Elizabeth Laramie was stunning in a way that snuck up on you—not the obvious, polished beauty I was used to seeing in my world, but something more natural. More real.

A few strands had escaped her bun to frame her face, softening the sharp lines of her cheekbones. Her green eyes were wide with what looked like barely contained panic, but they were striking.

She was wearing a cream blouse that was slightly too big in the shoulders, black pants that had seen better days, and a blazer that was actually well made. I recognized quality stitching when I saw it, and whoever had made that blazer knew what they were doing. Given what Chris had told me about her background, she’d probably made it herself.

She looked like someone who understood style but was working with a limited budget. She would do. She would definitely do.

“I need to grab some paperwork for you to sign,” I said with my mind made up. “Standard NDA outlining the terms of our arrangement. I’ll just be a minute.”

She nodded again, silent.

I stepped outside and took a second to fully grasp what I was doing. But there was one thought that was dominant. Fuck, that woman is hot.

I hadn’t asked Chris for a picture. Hadn’t cared what she looked like because this was supposed to be purely business. A transactional arrangement where physical attraction was irrelevant. If anything, I’d assumed she’d be perfectly average. Cute enough to be believable as my fiancée, but not so stunning that it would complicate things between us.