Page 65 of Pretend To Be Mine

I didn’t want to shake it, though. I liked being around her. I couldn’t quite explain what it did to my brain chemistry. Like she set my soul at ease. Cleared the noise in my head.

I found her near the costume racks, laughing at something Annika was saying. She’d been dressed in one of our pieces, a stunning black gown with subtle beading that caught the light when she moved. Her hair was styled in elegant waves, her makeup perfect. She looked like she belonged on the runway herself.

Our eyes met across the space, and her face lit up. That smile, the one that was just for me, made everything else fade into background noise.

I waved, and she waved back, mouthing something I couldn’t quite catch. Probably “stop hovering.” She’d accused me of that twice already today.

But I couldn’t help it. Elizabeth made me forget about work and the million details demanding my attention. That should have terrified me. I’d spent the last year being nothing but focused on work. I lived and breathed the company, the legacy and the responsibility to make sure it was everything my father would have wanted.

Now there was Elizabeth, and she’d somehow become more important than any of it.

My control was slipping. Real feelings were surfacing, feelings that had no place in a fake engagement, feelings that complicated everything.

I forced myself to walk away to check in with security. We had a lot of high-profile celebrities showing up, so running a tight ship mattered.

Twenty minutes later, I found another excuse to go backstage. Just to check that the costume changes were organized. Purely professional.

Elizabeth caught me that time, grinning. “You know we can handle this without you micromanaging, right?”

“I’m not micromanaging. I’m ensuring quality control.”

“You’re hovering.”

“I’m being thorough.”

Annika snorted from behind a rack of dresses. “He’s been back here four times in the last hour. That’s not thorough, that’s obsessed.”

I shot her a look that she completely ignored.

“Don’t you have a show to run?” Elizabeth asked, but she was smiling, clearly amused rather than annoyed.

“In thirty minutes. I have time.”

“To hover?”

“To ensure everything is perfect.”

She laughed, shaking her head. I found myself grinning back despite the knot of nerves in my stomach.

I made myself leave again, returning to the organized chaos of show preparation. Models were lining up. The audience was being seated. I shook a few hands, greeted the VIPs. The energy was building toward something explosive.

But fifteen minutes before showtime, I found myself backstage once more. This was getting ridiculous. I was the CEO and I was acting like a lovesick teenager who couldn’t stay away from his crush.

I spotted Elizabeth immediately. She was in a shadowy corner near the emergency exit.

And she wasn’t alone.

A man stood close to her, too close. She was laughing at something he’d said. Her hand rested on his arm, familiar and comfortable. Who the fuck was that?

Something hot and ugly twisted in my chest.

Jealousy.

I’d never been the jealous type. In my previous relationships—if you could even call them that—I’d been detached, uninvested. If a woman I was seeing talked to other men, I didn’t care. It wasn’t my business. If she wanted to move on, happy trails. It never bothered me. I couldn’t care less. Easy come, easy go.

But seeing Elizabeth with this stranger and watching how easy she interacted with him, like they were really, really close, was not okay. I told myself it didn’t matter. She wasn’t actually my fiancée.

I was across the space before I’d consciously decided to move, every muscle tense.