Page 143 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Adrian, if this goes wrong—if she’s not even here, or if she rejects you in front of everyone—it’s going to make it worse.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely worried. “This isn’t like a business deal you can negotiate your way out of. This is your heart on display for a few thousand people.”

“I know what it is.” I shook out my hands again, trying to release the nervous energy. “But I have to try. I should never have agreed to that fake fiancée plan in the first place, but I did. So now I need to clean up the mess. Do right by Elizabeth, whether she ever speaks to me again or not.”

“You’re either very brave or very stupid.”

“Probably both.” I looked out through a gap in the curtain, scanning the crowd one more time. Where was she? Annika had sworn she’d seen Elizabeth slip in, texted me ten minutes ago with absolute certainty. But I couldn’t spot her anywhere in the sea of faces.

Maybe she hadn’t come. Maybe she’d decided the contract wasn’t worth facing me. I might never see her again except across a conference table.

The thought made my chest tight with panic, but I pushed it down. This wasn’t about forcing her to listen. It was about telling the truth publicly. I had to clear her name regardless of what it meant for us.

Briggs appeared on my other side, tablet in hand as always. “The tech team has the graphics ready. They’ll follow your cues. You’re sure you want to do this sequence? Once those screens light up, there’s no taking it back.”

“I’m sure.”

“And you’ve thought about the implications? If she’s not receptive, if she walks out, the press will have a field day. It could overshadow everything we’ve built this week.”

“Let them.” I met his eyes. “Dad used to say there were things more important than good press. Things worth risking everything for. I think he would understand.”

Briggs nodded. “He would. He’d probably call you an idiot for waiting this long, but he’d understand.” He glanced at his tablet. “You’ve got three minutes. Dash is doing final checks on the runway.”

He disappeared, leaving me with Sebastian again.

“Do you remember what you’re going to say?” Sebastian asked. “You’ve been rehearsing it for twenty-four hours, but you look like you might forget your own name right now.”

“I remember.” The words were burned into my brain, revised a hundred times, edited and perfected until Annika had finally told me to stop overthinking it. “I just—what if she doesn’t want to hear it? What if I’m too late? I don’t even know if she’s here. I could be doing all of this for nothing.”

“Then at least you tried.” Sebastian’s voice was unusually serious. “Look, I’m the last person who should be giving relationship advice. My longest commitment is to my gym membership. But, Adrian, I’ve watched you this past week. You’ve been miserable without her.”

“It’s only been a day.”

“And I bet it feels like a year.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong.” I checked my watch. Two minutes. “How do I look?”

“Like a man about to get publicly humiliated.” Sebastian adjusted my collar even though it was already perfect. “For what it’s worth, I think she loves you too. The way she looks at you—nobody fakes that.”

“She’s a good actress. We paid her to be.”

“Adrian, stop. You know it was real. You both just got scared and ran in opposite directions when things got complicated.” He gripped my shoulder. “Now you’re doing the brave thing. You’re running toward her instead of away.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that Elizabeth had felt even a fraction of what I’d felt during those stolen moments in every city where I’d watched her transform from nervous to confident to extraordinary.

“One minute,” Briggs called out from somewhere in the chaos backstage.

My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. This was it. In sixty seconds, I’d walk out on that stage and either save everything or destroy what little was left.

“You’ve got this,” Sebastian said.

“Do I? Because I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

“That’s just love. It’s supposed to feel like food poisoning mixed with a heart attack.” He grinned. “Or so I’m told. I wouldn’t know personally.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re a romantic. Who knew?” He gave me a gentle shove toward the stage entrance. “Now get out there and win her back before I have to watch you mope around for the next decade.”

The music swelled. The crowd’s energy shifted. I could hear Dash’s voice over the sound system, warming them up with his usual charm and charisma, getting them ready for the finale.