Page 22 of Pretend To Be Mine

Her hair had been styled in loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders. Even from across the room, I could see she looked stunning. It was a complete transformation.

The women worked fast.

Mary Jo stepped back. “Open your eyes,” she instructed Elizabeth.

When she did, my fake fiancée looked absolutely terrified.

Our eyes met in the mirror, and I could see the panic. She was ready to bolt.

“Can I talk to my fiancée alone for a minute?” I asked it casually, like this was completely normal.

Mary Jo and Annika exchanged a look. Then Mary Jo set down her brush and both women filed out, closing the door behind them.

Elizabeth sat frozen in the chair, staring at her reflection like she didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her. Her hands were clenched in her lap, knuckles white.

I moved closer. I could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the slight tremor in her fingers.

“Breathe,” I said softly.

She shook her head, a jerky movement. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. But first, you need to breathe with me. In through your nose.” I demonstrated, drawing in a slow breath. “Out through your mouth.”

She tried, but it came out shaky, close to hyperventilating.

I reached out and took her hand, feeling how cold her fingers were. “Again. In through your nose. Count to four.”

This time she followed my lead. In for four, hold for four, out for four. We did it three times.

“Better?” I asked.

“A little.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Adrian, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this. This isn’t me. I’m not… I’m not the kind of person who stands in front of cameras and lies to the world.”

I’d dragged her into this mess with promises of money and jobs, but I hadn’t fully considered what I was asking her to sacrifice.

“I understand that. And if you’re going to back out, now’s the time. We have about fifteen minutes before that press conference starts. If you walk away, I’ll handle it. I’ll figure something else out.”

“You will?”

“Yes. But for what it’s worth?” I waited until she looked at me directly, those green eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I think you’d make a perfect fiancée.”

A small, sad laugh escaped her. “You barely know me.”

“The question isn’t whether you can do this. The question is whether you want to.”

She looked so confused.

“I probably should have eased you into this more,” I admitted. “Gotten to know you a bit first. Let you get comfortable with the idea before throwing you in front of the press.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. Sometimes when something scares you, you just have to do the thing scared. Say no if you don’t like me. Say no if this white lie feels too dishonest for you. But don’t say no because you’re scared.”

The tears in her eyes threatened to spill over.

“I’m going to ruin my makeup,” she said with a watery laugh.

“Mary Jo can fix it. That’s literally her job. You’re not the first person to get emotional sitting in that chair.”