Page 140 of Pretend To Be Mine

I shook my head. “No. Have you seen the news? The Clara interview?”

“Everyone’s seen it.” Her expression hardened. “That woman is poison. And poor Elizabeth doesn’t deserve what’s being said about her.”

“That’s why I’m here.” I ran a hand through my hair. It wasn’t like it could get any messier. “I need to fix this. I have to salvage her reputation and make people see the truth. I want to prove she’s talented and genuine and none of this was her scheme.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I came to you.” I met her eyes. “You’re smart, you understand this industry, and you know Elizabeth. Help me figure out how to make this right.”

Annika sighed and looked disappointed. Or maybe sad. I knew the two of them had gotten close. Annika didn’t like a lot of people. That was a testament to how right Elizabeth fit into my life. She fit into all of our lives. That didn’t happen often. My brothers and I had plenty of dates, but we never immersed those women fully into our world. Elizabeth fit. She worked.

And I needed her back.

“Why?” Annika asked. “Why are you trying to make it right? Tomorrow was going to be the last day. Why not just let it end?”

“What?”

“Why does it matter so much? If this was just a business arrangement, just a PR stunt that went wrong, why do you care about fixing her reputation?”

“Because I dragged her into this mess, and I can’t stand watching her get destroyed for something that wasn’t her fault. Because she deserves better than memes and mockery and being called a gold-digger.”

Annika offered a satisfied smile. I had a feeling I had just been tested. And apparently, I passed. “You came to the right place. I have an idea.”

“Tell me.”

I left the workshop with something I hadn’t felt since Milan—hope. With Annika’s help, I might actually be able to salvage things. We were going to unfuck her life. I would make damn sure the world knew Elizabeth was a talented designer and so much more than the bullshit lies people were spreading.

I prayed Elizabeth would give me one more chance.

Even if I didn’t deserve it.

46

ELIZABETH

Ispent all day Friday pacing my apartment, trying to convince myself I could just not show up. I told him I would be at the finale, but then I realized that might not be a good thing. What if he didn’t want me there? What if my presence just complicated the situation.

I thought about sending an email and apologizing for breaking the contract. I was more than ready to disappear back into obscurity where I belonged. I realized being nobody wasn’t such a bad thing. There were definitely some perks to anonymity. It was the classic case of discovering the grass was not totally greener on the other side.

But I was curious. I wanted to see how Adrian and his brothers would handle the fallout. Would they put me on blast? Continue to let me take the blame for what had been their big idea? Adrian had texted and called several times, but it all stopped yesterday afternoon. I knew he was back in the city. I knew what the travel itinerary had been.

And I had not heard from him, so I just assumed he was distancing himself from me. They were going to move on and that was that. I was pretty sure the job offer was no longer an option.

Monday, I was going to start looking for another job. I would apply to a few fashion houses, but I had a feeling I was radioactive right now.

Back to waitressing for me.

So that was why on Saturday evening I stood outside the venue in Manhattan. It was some converted warehouse space in Chelsea that had been transformed into something magical for the finale. Because of course they would go big. After the last few events, I knew they didn’t do anything small. Their shows were an experience.

I could see lights blazing inside through the industrial windows. I could hear music and voices as people gathered for the culmination of Fashion of Love Week.

The event that was supposed to save Blackwell Couture’s reputation. The one I’d probably helped destroy instead. Either way, people had shown up to see what happened.

I had dressed carefully that morning. I felt a little strange dressing myself. I had come to depend on Adrian and Annika dressing me for the events.

I was on my own without the luxury of a closet full of couture dresses. And my closet was severely lacking. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.

I changed outfits three times before settling on something that would help me disappear. Black pants, black top, an oversized shawl that I could wrap around myself like armor, and the biggest sunglasses I owned despite the evening hour. The look screamed “fashion person trying to be low-key,” which was perfect. In this crowd, I’d blend right in. Just another industry professional who valued privacy.