Page 90 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Both of you, look this way!”

I’d done this a thousand times throughout my life. I knew how to paste on the automatic smile and how to turn to catch the light. I was not a professional model anymore, but I knew the poses that looked natural but were anything but. My mind was already elsewhere, cataloging the seventeen things I still needed to check before the show started.

And I wondered where Elizabeth had gone. I hadn’t seen her since she’d disappeared to find Annika over an hour ago. The distance between us felt wrong somehow. Like I was missing a limb. I liked having her close. I liked being able to look at the back of the room or to my left and see her there. Somehow, she had become like a security blanket.

I didn’t even want to think about what that meant. Couldn’t be anything good.

Movement to my right caught my attention. An assistant was ushering models over. They were some of the women who’d be walking in tonight’s show, all stunning in that particular way that fashion models were stunning. Tall, angular, otherworldly.

And they were basically naked.

I had seen the designs that would be in the show but seeing them on models was a whole new level. They wore the dresses exactly as intended. They were meant to tease and tantalize. When I glanced back at the media professionals, I knew the goal had been hit. There were mouths hanging open and tongues practically dragging on the lawn.

The women positioned themselves around me and Sebastian. More than one boob brushed against my arm. I went through the motions. Smile. Pose. Let them drape themselves decoratively while cameras clicked.

One of them leaned into me, her cheek resting on my shoulder in a pose that probably looked intimate and romantic through the lens. She was doing her best to make it look like we had just finished fucking or were about to. Two of the models were pawing Sebastian. He was of course leaning into the spectacle.

I was annoyed but not enough to make a scene. It was part of the job. The models were assets. Nothing more than props that were part of the visual story we were selling. Shoving them away would create awkward photos and awkward questions.

The cameras went crazy, the clicking intensifying. When the model trying to mount me finally pulled away, she moved to stand directly in front of me. I couldn’t avoid looking at her.

“You don’t even say hello?”

I looked at her properly for the first time.

Clara Moreau.

Fuck.

“Clara.” I kept my voice neutral, professional. “I didn’t realize you were walking tonight.”

“Sebastian called me personally.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Said he needed his best models for his big show. How could I say no?”

I was going to kill him.

Clara and I had a complicated history. If you could call a series of casual encounters over the course of a few months “history.” We’d hooked up at fashion events, shared hotel rooms during Fashion Weeks in various cities, maintained something that was convenient but never serious. We texted. We never really had actual phone calls. We were both too busy and usually on different continents. It was just an easy thing. Very unserious.

At least, it had never been serious for me.

“It’s good to see you,” I said, the lie automatic. “If you’ll excuse me⁠—”

“That’s it?” Her hand caught my arm. A year ago, that touch would have me dragging her into the nearest dark hallway for a quickie. But now, it made my skin crawl. “After everything, that’s all I get? It’s good to see me?”

“Clara, this isn’t the time.”

“You wouldn’t commit to me.” Her voice was low but heated, meant only for my ears even as cameras continued clicking around us. “You told me you weren’t ready for anything serious, that you needed to focus on the company, that relationships weren’t your priority.”

“That’s all true.”

“And now you’re engaged.” She laughed, the sound shrill enough to make me cringe. “I guess you’re fine getting married as long as it’s someone else. Someone new. Someone who isn’t me.”

The jealousy in her voice bled through every word. I could already see how this was going to play out. Clara wasn’t going to fade quietly into the background. She was going to make this difficult, dramatic, and oh so messy.

That’s what she did. She was always one to make a scene. She was gorgeous, with legs to her ears. It wasn’t hard for her to draw attention. And like so many celebrities, she liked drama. Good or bad publicity didn’t matter to her. She was spoiled and used to getting her way. Women who looked like her weren’t used to being told no.

“I’m done here,” I told Sebastian, not bothering to keep my voice down. “Handle the rest of this.”

“Adrian, we still have more⁠—”