Page 23 of Pretend To Be Mine

She took another deep breath. “Okay,” she said finally. “Okay, I can do this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Hell no. But I’m going to do it anyway.” She looked at me directly for the first time since I’d entered the room.

“Elizabeth? Thank you. For doing this. For trusting me.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, attempting a smile. “I might throw up on your shoes during the press conference.”

“That’s one way to change the narrative around Blackwell Couture. But, hey, I have other shoes.”

This time her laugh was more genuine, and something in my chest loosened.

I released her hand and went to the door, opening it to find Mary Jo and Annika waiting in the hallway, trying and failing to look like they hadn’t been listening.

I stepped back into the hallway and leaned against the wall, my own heart still racing from the conversation. That had been close. Too close. Elizabeth had been seconds away from walking out. I would have let her, of course.

But she hadn’t walked away.

My phone buzzed with a text from Dash. 10 minutes. Where are you?

I typed back. On my way. Have the ring ready.

His response was immediate. Already at the podium. Don’t be late to your own engagement announcement.

I pocketed my phone and pushed off the wall, heading back toward the makeup room. Through the open door, I could see Elizabeth in the mirror, looking more composed now, her makeup repaired. Mary Jo was adding final touches while Annika fastened a delicate necklace around Elizabeth’s throat.

She caught my reflection in the mirror and our eyes met again. This time, instead of terror, I saw something else.

Trust.

God help me, I couldn’t screw this up.

8

ELIZABETH

Istared at the woman in the mirror and couldn’t quite believe she was me.

Mary Jo had worked some kind of magic with her brushes and powders, transforming my face into something camera-ready. My eyes looked bigger, more dramatic, framed with subtle liner and mascara that made my lashes look twice their normal length. My cheeks had a healthy glow, my lips were a soft rose color that somehow made them look fuller. Even my skin seemed to be lit from within, flawless in a way I’d never achieved on my own.

And the dress Annika had chosen fit like it had been made for me. It was so pretty. Classy. Timeless. It made me look elegant instead of frumpy. After some debate, Annika decided the nude pumps were the way to go.

I looked like someone who belonged in Adrian Blackwell’s world.

I looked like a stranger.

“You okay, honey?” Annika’s voice was soft.

“I don’t know.” My voice came out shaky. “I don’t recognize myself.”

“That’s the point, a little bit.” Mary Jo smiled at me in the mirror as she put away her brushes. “We’re giving you armor. When you look this good, you feel more confident. At least, that’s the theory.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “Both of you. I know this was rushed and crazy, and you still made me look…” I gestured vaguely at my reflection. “Like this.”

“Like a goddess,” Mary Jo said with a nod. “That’s what we do here. We make goddesses.”

Annika squeezed my shoulder. “We were all new here once. I know how lost I felt when I first started at Blackwell. Buck—Adrian’s father—he took a chance on me when no one else would. I was fresh off the boat from Sweden, barely spoke English, and he gave me a job. I’ve never forgotten what that felt like, to have someone believe in you.”