Page 52 of Pretend To Be Mine

Adrian ordered for both of us in fluid Italian that made my stomach flip for entirely different reasons than the bread. Man, if he spoke like that in bed? There was something undeniably attractive about a man speaking another language, especially when he looked like Adrian.

“Show-off,” I said when Rosa left.

“Dad insisted we all learn Italian. Said you can’t be in fashion and not speak the language.” He leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine. “Though Sebastian’s the only one who’s actually fluent. The rest of us are passable at best.”

“It sounded good to me.”

“So, have you been working on any new designs?”

“A few actually,” I said, feeling shy all of a sudden. “But they’re just sketches.”

“Do you have anything you can show me? I’d really like to see what you’re working on now. What you’re passionate about.”

The request caught me off guard. “You really want to see?”

“I really do.”

“The last time didn’t go so well, but I’ll show you one of these days.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Rosa returned with our meals. Pasta was my greatest love, and my heart grew happy at the dishes she brought.

Elizabeth and I chatted while we ate. Eventually, the conversation turned toward the upcoming events.

“I’m heading over to the convention center tomorrow,” I said. “I want to check on the setup for opening night, see how the final prep is going.”

“That sounds stressful.”

“A little. But it’s also exciting, seeing everything come together.”

He paused and looked like he was debating whether to say what was on his mind. “Would you like to come with me? Maybe help finish off some of the dresses for the first night of Love Week?”

My heart stopped. “What?”

“I figured you might want to be part of the process. Get some hands-on experience with a major show. Only if you want to. No pressure.”

“Yes.” The word burst out of me. “Oh my God, yes. Adrian, are you serious?”

His smile was pure sin. “Completely serious.”

The rest of the dinner passed in a happy blur. The food was incredible, the wine was perfect, and the company was even better. By the time we finished dessert I felt full in a way that had nothing to do with food.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Thank you for making this whole thing bearable.”

17

ADRIAN

The venue was massive even when empty. It was filled with workers constructing our vision for opening night. It felt like controlled chaos. I stood at the edge of what would become our runway, watching teams hang lights, position cameras, and test the screens that would display each look as the models walked.

Two days until showtime. Forty-eight hours until we either proved ourselves or crashed spectacularly.

I barely slept last night, my mind cycling through every possible disaster scenario. What if the livestream failed? What if a model no-showed? What if the critics hated everything we’d worked on for months?

But when Elizabeth had texted this morning some of that anxiety had eased. Having her with me and getting to see her excitement made the whole thing feel less overwhelming. It was almost like having a security blanket. In the midst of a hundred people, I had someone. I couldn’t remember a time I had someone. I had my brothers, but we were a group. No one was just for me.