Page 56 of Pretend To Be Mine

In twenty-four hours, the space would be filled with fashion industry elite, celebrities, and press from around the world. And I would be here because of Adrian.

I looked down at the ring on my finger, watching the diamond catch the lights. The stones were real. Adrian had made sure of that. But what they symbolized wasn’t. This beautiful ring represented a business arrangement. A temporary solution to a problem.

It was a shame, really. Because somewhere between the disastrous first photoshoot and waking up in his arms, I had stopped pretending.

My feelings for Adrian were very, very real.

And that was dangerous. He needed me for the event. Nothing more. I needed to remind myself I wasn’t actually his girlfriend or fiancée. But if he kept his promise, I would be his employee. I didn’t want to be the chick sleeping with the boss.

“Elizabeth!” Annika waved me over to where she was organizing the costume changes. “Come help me make sure we have the right accessories for each look. I need your eye.”

I hurried over, grateful for something to do besides stand around feeling overwhelmed. Annika had jewelry laid out for each dress—necklaces, earrings, bracelets, all carefully selected to complement without overwhelming.

“This piece here,” I said, picking up a delicate gold cuff. “I think it would work better with dress seven than dress twelve. The neckline on twelve is already busy.”

Annika considered it, then nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Make the switch.”

As I reorganized the accessories, I kept stealing glances at the main floor. Adrian stood in the center of everything, iPad in hand, directing the controlled chaos with the calm authority of a general commanding troops.

He was wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt—casual by his standards—but somehow he still looked like he owned the place. Which, I supposed, he kind of did. I liked him better in casual wear. He rocked the suits, but the T-shirt showed off those flat abs and nice biceps. And his chest. Damn, the man had a chest I could spend the next decade exploring.

“Lighting team, that’s too harsh,” he called out. “Soften it by twenty percent. We want romantic, not interrogation.”

The lights adjusted immediately.

“Sound check in five minutes,” he announced. “I want to hear every cue, every transition. No surprises tomorrow.”

What fascinated me was how calm he seemed. Yesterday in the workshop, he’d been tense, checking and rechecking every detail. But now, with less than a day until showtime, he was steady. Focused. In his element.

Like he got better the more intense things became.

I watched him consult with the stage manager, point out something on his iPad, then nod in satisfaction when the adjustment was made. He squatted down to examine the runway surface, running his hand across it to check for imperfections. And yes, I marveled at the muscles across his back. I could honestly stand in the corner and just watch him all day. I started picturing him in different outfits. Gray sweatpants. Shirtless, of course.

God, I was falling for him. Had fallen, probably. Past tense. Done deal.

That was a problem for future Elizabeth to deal with. Right then, I just let myself enjoy watching him work.

The place was coming together beautifully. Workers were bringing in enormous flower arrangements that would flank the runway. Abstract sculptures were being positioned at strategic points, modern art pieces that complemented the Legacy theme without overwhelming it. The Blackwell aesthetic was everywhere—elegant, timeless, with just enough edge to feel contemporary.

“Where are Sebastian, Briggs, and Dash?” I asked Annika.

“Already at their cities. Sebastian left for London this morning, Briggs flew to Paris yesterday, and Dash went to Milan.” She handed me another set of earrings. “Adrian’s handling New York solo. Well, with the team, but you know what I mean. The brothers each take point on their own shows.”

That explained the extra tension I’d sensed in him last night. He was carrying it alone. That was a lot of pressure.

A commotion near the runway entrance caught my attention. A camera crew was setting up. I realized with a jolt that these were for the livestream. This show was going global. Anyone, anywhere in the world with an internet connection could watch in real time.

The thought made my stomach flip. Any mistake, any wardrobe malfunction, any stumble would be seen by potentially millions of people. There would be no editing anything out.

“Okay people, let’s run through the show order!” Adrian’s voice carried across the space. “Models, get in your starting positions. We’re doing a full run-through—entrances, walks, exits, and quick changes. This is your chance to work out any kinks.”

The models began lining up backstage, each one checking their position on the call sheet. I moved to where I could watch without being in the way, my heart racing with vicarious excitement. I couldn’t believe I was actually getting the chance to watch it from this view.

The music started. It was classical and dramatic, building slowly. The first model emerged onto the runway, walking with that distinctive model stride I’d tried and failed to master during training. The screens came alive, showing details of the dress, the inspiration piece, information about the materials. Buck’s voice could be heard talking about his inspiration. My eyes immediately went to Adrian. I knew it was his doing, but how hard would it be to listen to your late father talking?

He was watching the scene with a blank expression. Maybe he had heard it so much he was immune to the voice.

The whole thing was breathtaking.