Page 88 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Of course. Adrian must really care about you to take such a chance.”

I frowned and shook my head. I was under the impression she knew about our arrangement. I didn’t want to mislead her. Yes, I was misleading the rest of the world, but I didn’t want to lie to her.

“Oh, I, um⁠—”

“I know it’s fake,” Annika said gently, returning to her work on the sheer dress. “Adrian told me from the beginning. Asked me to help you with outfits, make you comfortable. I’m one of the few people in the inner circle who knows.”

The relief of not having to pretend with someone was overwhelming. “Then you know this is all temporary. After Love Week⁠—”

“Things will go back to normal. You’ll just be an employee, and Adrian will go back to being married to his work.” Annika said it without judgment, but I heard the skepticism underneath. “Except I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve known Adrian for fifteen years, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him prioritize anyone above work. And I’ve definitely never seen him collaborate on designs with anyone—not even his brothers.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You two are just doing this as a PR stunt, I know. But Elizabeth, I can’t help but notice there’s some heat between you two. Real heat. The kind that can’t be faked for cameras.”

I sank into a chair, the weight of everything suddenly too much.

“I’m catching feelings. Real ones. And I know that’s the stupidest thing I could possibly do because this was supposed to be business. We both agreed. No complications, no feelings, just a professional arrangement that benefits both of us.”

“And Adrian?”

“Adrian seems like it’s still an arrangement. And rightly so. We weren’t supposed to fall for each other.” I pressed my palms against my eyes. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

“Hey.” Annika’s hand was warm on my shoulder. “Never apologize for falling in love. If he doesn’t feel the same way, it is what it is. But falling for him doesn’t make you a fool. It makes you human.”

“It makes me an idiot who’s going to have her heart broken in less than a week.”

“Maybe. Or maybe Adrian’s just as confused as you are.” She squeezed my shoulder. “I saw how he looked at you on that runway in New York. That wasn’t acting, Elizabeth. That was a man who couldn’t believe his luck.”

I wanted to believe her. Wanted to think that what I felt was mutual. I would love to believe Adrian’s touches and kisses and words meant something beyond physical attraction and the adrenaline of the situation.

But then I remembered his words to Sebastian: The plan is working great.

Like I was just a successful strategy. A problem solved. A box checked on his massive to-do list.

“I need to focus on what I can control,” I said, straightening in the chair. “These dresses. My designs. Building a career. If I can’t get the man, at least I can show the world my creations. That’ll have to be enough.”

“Will it though?” Annika asked gently.

“It’ll have to be,” I said.

Annika and I flipped through many of the fabric swatches, discussing what might work for my designs. It was what I needed. I had to focus on something other than my love life that didn’t exist.

Models started filtering in about twenty minutes later, each one more stunning than the last. They came in groups of two or three, chattering excitedly about the venue, the clothes, and the sheer audacity of Sebastian’s vision.

Annika looked up from pinning a particularly daring bodice. “Elizabeth, I could use another set of hands. These pieces need to be assembled on the body. Would you mind helping?”

“I’d love to,” I said, genuinely meaning it.

What followed was organized chaos of the best kind. I found myself helping models into creations that barely qualified as clothing. One dress was essentially tissue paper held together by body tape and prayer. Another was a sheer bodysuit with crystals placed to preserve the model’s modesty—barely. One cough or sneeze and there would be some serious flashing.

“Okay, hold still,” I instructed a tall brunette as I adjusted a piece of fabric that covered approximately three-square inches of strategic real estate. “If you breathe too deep, this whole thing might fall apart.”

She laughed. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Decadence.”