Like admit that this arrangement stopped being fake somewhere between the French press and the stuck zipper, and I have no idea what to do about it.
In the car, my phone is still exploding with messages from Christian and Roman, but I ignore all of them.
Instead, I sit in traffic, my skin still humming from where Harper touched me, and try to convince myself that what just happened was a momentary lapse in judgment.
A blip on the radar. A mistake.
Nothing more.
I sigh, as my driver James pulls the truck into traffic, wishing my inner voice were a hell of a lot more convincing than this.
13
FIRST CLASS PROBLEMS
HARPER
Four hours after the boutique incident, I'm standing in Victor's guest room—my room—staring at myself in the mirror and wondering if it's possible to die from nervous anticipation.
It's 6:45 PM. Fifteen minutes until Victor picks me up for the Grandview Hotel opening.
Outside, November darkness has fully settled over Manhattan—an early winter night where the city lights feel both festive and vaguely threatening. The temperature dropped to forty degrees this afternoon, and now there's that brittle cold that makes your breath visible and your fingers numb.
Inside Victor's temperature-controlled penthouse, I'm warm. Too warm.
The pale lavender dress fits perfectly. Simone had included jewelry—delicate gold earrings, a thin bracelet, nothing too flashy—and I'd done my own makeup because having someone else do it felt too much like admitting this was real.
My hair is down, falling in soft waves past my shoulders. I almost never wear it down for events. But something about tonight feels different.
Everything about tonight feels different.
Because four hours ago, Victor Kade kissed me in a boutique fitting room, and I kissed him back, and now I have to stand next to him in front of cameras and pretend that kiss was just... what? A mistake? A rehearsal?
My phone buzzes on the dresser.
MARGOT: Good luck tonight! You'll be amazing.
MARGOT: Also Amelia wants to know if you're going to kiss him in public.
MARGOT: I told her that's inappropriate but now I'm also curious.
AMELIA: It's not inappropriate it's RESEARCH
AMELIA: For my toast at her eventual real wedding
MARGOT: Amelia there's not going to be a real wedding.
AMELIA: That's what YOU think
I type back quickly before they can badger me any further.
ME: No public kissing. This is a professional appearance.
AMELIA: Boring
MARGOT: Appropriate
AMELIA: Still boring
