Page 91 of Pretend To Be Mine

I was already walking away, leaving Clara standing there with whatever she’d been about to say dying on her lips. I didn’t owe her an explanation. Didn’t owe her anything, actually. What we’d had was casual. I was under no illusions she’d been faithful waiting for me to choose her. I had very personal knowledge that was the farthest thing from the truth.

I mentally kicked myself. I should have known she’d show up here. Clara was French, and hopping across the Channel for a high-profile gig was easy. Sebastian probably hadn’t thought twice about booking her, probably hadn’t even mentioned it to me because why would he? She was a professional who did good work.

The fact that she was also my ex was just an unfortunate complication.

I found Elizabeth in Annika’s makeshift workshop, the two of them bent over a sketchbook, talking in low, animated voices. They both looked up when I entered.

She took one look at me and frowned. She immediately walked to me. I liked that. Even when she was angry with me, she could read me and wanted to help. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Fine. Mostly fine.” I moved closer, lowering my voice even though Annika could definitely still hear. “Listen, I need to tell you something.”

There were other models in the room getting dressed or sucking on green juices.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“My ex is here.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “Your ex?”

“Clara Moreau. She’s a model, one of the ones walking tonight. She just ambushed me during the press photos, and I can only imagine what the headlines are going to be.” I reached for her hand, needing the contact. “I wanted to warn you in case she tries something dramatic. She’s not happy about our engagement.”

“Was it serious?” Elizabeth asked. “Between you two?”

“No. At least, not for me. We hooked up occasionally when we were in the same city, but it was never exclusive, never discussed as anything long-term.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Apparently she had different expectations. Or so she says now.”

Elizabeth slowly nodded. “I see. And she’s upset you’re engaged to someone else.”

“Very upset. Which means she might try to cause problems.” I squeezed her hand. “I just wanted you to know. She means nothing to me, Elizabeth. Nothing. So no matter what happens, please don’t be jealous. Don’t let anything she says or does get to you.”

Something shifted in Elizabeth’s expression, her smile turning brittle. Her eyes cold. “How can I be jealous if this is just pretend?”

Ouch.

Just pretend. Right. Because that’s what we agreed on. A business arrangement, a PR strategy, a fake engagement with a clear expiration date.

“Right,” I said with a nod. “Pretend. So there’s nothing to be jealous about.”

“Exactly.” She pulled her hand from mine. “I need to help Annika get the rest of them dressed.”

“Elizabeth—”

“It’s fine, Adrian. Really.” But her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not worried about your ex. She’s free to hate me. I don’t care.”

She turned away before I could respond, immediately engaging Annika in conversation.

She’d thrown my own arrangement back in my face.

Dammit, it hurt.

“I’ll see you at the show,” I said to Elizabeth’s back.

She nodded but didn’t turn around. Didn’t give me another chance to see her face.

I left the workshop and headed back toward the main preparations, my mind spinning.

I was jealous. I had been jealous when I’d seen her talking to Chris. I nearly kicked his ass before I even saw his face. I had felt possessive when I’d watched other men look at her during interviews. I’d felt all the things I had no right to feel in a fake relationship.

But Elizabeth had just made it clear she didn’t feel the same way. For her, this was still business. It was a means to an end. She wanted the job I offered. Her big break.