Page 145 of Pretend To Be Mine

The crowd was engaged now, leaning forward, clearly recognizing the pieces that had generated so much discussion.

“I think you can all agree these designs represent something special. Something fresh and exciting and exactly the kind of innovation Blackwell Couture needs going forward.”

Enthusiastic applause. People nodding. They were with me so far.

“Those dresses were designed by Elizabeth Laramie.”

I signaled again, and her logo appeared on the screens. It was the heart-shaped EL we’d designed together in Milan. Then her photo, the one from our first press conference, where she looked beautiful and terrified and brave all at once. The screen changed to a photo of her walking down the runway.

The crowd murmured. Surprised. Confused. I could see people turning to their neighbors, whispering.

“I know there’s been a lot of speculation this week,” I continued. “A lot of questions about Elizabeth’s talent, her motives, and her relationship with me. Some people have suggested she was trying to sleep her way to success. I’ve seen the headlines that she’s a gold-digger. Rumors that our engagement was just a scheme she cooked up to advance her career.”

The murmuring grew louder. I pushed on. I was calling them out for their nonsense. I knew every person in the room had seen and contributed to the gossip. People loved to tear others down.

“But here’s the truth. Those same people who’ve been trashing her online have already been impressed by her work. Those dresses you all loved? That’s Elizabeth. That’s her vision, her talent, her voice. People loved her designs without realizing who created them. I hope you all see, we’re the lucky ones to have her. She doesn’t need us. She’s going to be the next big talent in fashion. Ten years from now, we’re all going to be clamoring to get front row at one of her shows.”

I took a breath, feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.

“Not only did I beg her to be my fiancée,” I said, “I begged her to come work for us. Because I love her work. Because I recognize talent.”

Another pause. The longest one of my life.

“And I love her.”

The words hung in the air. It felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath. Or maybe that was just me.

“Before we get on with tonight’s show, I needed to let the world know that,” I finished. “Elizabeth Laramie is extraordinarily talented. She deserves recognition, respect, and every opportunity this industry can offer. Regardless of what happens between us personally, I wanted to make sure everyone understood that. And I would take it as a personal favor if you could all stop the rumors. If you hear something, tell them you heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

For a moment, there was silence. Complete, deafening silence.

Then someone started clapping. Then more people joined in. Then the entire venue was on its feet, applause washing over me like a wave.

I stood there, feeling naked and exposed and terrified. The big announcement had been made and people seemed to be responding in the way I had hoped. They sounded supportive, not disbelieving.

The applause continued. People were cheering. Some looked a little choked up. This crowd understood grand romantic gestures. And judging by the response, there were a few romantics in the crowd. I didn’t know if it was enough to get Elizabeth back, but I knew without a doubt it had shifted the story. The truth about her design talent was out there.

I was about to signal for the show to begin and let everyone process what I just said, when a voice rang out from somewhere in the crowd. “She’s here!”

My heart stopped.

I scanned the audience, trying to find the source of the voice, trying to find her.

“Elizabeth’s here!” the voice called again. It sounded like Annika, though I couldn’t see her. “She’s right here!”

The crowd began looking around, murmuring, searching. Spotlights swiveled, trying to illuminate the audience.

And then I saw her.

48

ELIZABETH

“She’s here!” Annika’s voice rang out across the entire warehouse. “Elizabeth is here!”

I whipped around to face her, whispering furiously, “What the hell are you doing? Be quiet!”

But Annika was grinning like a maniac, completely ignoring me. She actually jumped up, pointing directly at where I was pressed against the wall. “She’s right here, Adrian!”