Page 17 of PR Stunt

She leans back slightly, her silver hair catching the light as she exhales. “Let’s go over the details.”

Anna nods, flipping to the next page in the folder. “The official narrative is that you two have been dating in secret for four months. You met at an afterparty in New York, and you hit it off. Kept things private at first, especially with Charlie filming in Toronto, but now you’re ready to go public. This works great for our agenda because, oddly enough, you were both in New York the same weekend.”

Grayson hums, tipping his chair back slightly. “Four months. That’s commitment.”

“I know,” I say dryly. “Shocking. What a concept.”

I glance between Miranda and Anna. “I thought this was supposed to be believable. How is anyone going to buy that he committed to something for four whole months already?”

He tilts his head as he studies me. “Don’t tell me that’s what you like… Soft romance? Candlelit dinners and love notes? You don’t look like you’d settle for soft.”

I roll my eyes. “And something tells me you think you’re more mysterious than you actually are.”

His lips curve. “Admit it, sweetheart. You’re curious.”

Miranda clears her throat.

I shoot Grayson a dismissive look and return my attention to the contract.

Ignoring us, Miranda takes over. “That means a mix of public and private moments. Paparazzi will ‘catch’ you on dinner dates, late-night drives, and those long romantic walks on the beach behind your Malibu house, Charlie.”

My jaw tightens. My Malibu home is my sanctuary, but I guess it would look suspicious if we didn’t get a couple of shots near it. I exhale and then give a reluctant nod.

“You’ll attend the City of Angels Gala together—matching looks, coordinated arrival, the whole thing. Then, there’s a couple’s vacation, details to be determined, but somewhere tropical would sell the romance angle well,” Anna clarifies.

I hold up a hand. “Wait, wait… Vacation? I am, despite my better judgment, agreeing to this. However, no one mentioned anything about taking this—” I pause, gesturing vaguely between us “—beyond l.a.”

Anna doesn’t lift her gaze from the contract. “It’s a necessary step, Charlie. The more convincing this looks, the less room there is for speculation. A weekend away strengthens the story.”

She finally looks up, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Besides, you did mention wanting bikinis and spicy margaritas for your next project.”

I level her with a stare. “Yes. For acting. On set. With civilized, normal humans.”

Miranda peers over her glasses. “Everything needs to be seamless. No hesitation, no inconsistency. You two are in love—convince them.”

Grayson finally sits forward, his gaze locking onto mine, the smugness in his eyes making my pulse spike. He idly twirls a pen between his fingers, like this entire conversation is nothing more than entertainment to him.

Miranda turns to Anna. “What about Mexico? Close, but far enough away to sell the story of a romantic weekend getaway. Thoughts on Tulum?”

Anna shakes her head. “No, too busy now and too obvious. We need it to look like they went to escape attention, not chase it. And, of course, our team will be there to capture the right shots.”

Grayson taps his fingers on the table and then shrugs. “What about Sayulita? I surf a lot there.”

Anna’s eyes light up. “That’s perfect.”

Miranda beams. “We can add in the whole he’s teaching me how to surf shots. Irresistibly cute.”

Anna tucks a dark strand of hair behind her ear, clearly already thinking three steps ahead. “And lastly, of course, you’ll be by his side for the Blackout premiere. Which, by the way, is shaping up to be one of the biggest spy films of the year.”

As she and Miranda continue discussing the contract, their voices blur together. I press my elbows onto the table, clasping my hands tightly as I take a deep breath and close my eyes. It’s fine. I can do this. Just like a role. As I exhale, trying to steady myself, I sense movement across the table.

“Having second thoughts, Charlie?”

My eyes flare open to find Grayson studying me, one brow raised, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He twirls the pen between his fingers, long and deft and annoyingly skilled, as if this is all just a fun little game.

I straighten in my seat. “Any sane person would.”

Leaning forward, he says, “You know, this doesn’t have to be all pretend.”