Page 28 of Pretend To Be Mine

“That’s all on track,” Briggs assured me. “Teams are in place, venues are secured, designs are finalized. We’re in good shape.”

“We better be.” I stood, pacing to the window. “Because if this engagement thing distracts us from what really matters, we’re just shooting ourselves in the foot. I’m still not convinced it wasn’t a mistake.”

“It’s working,” Dash said.

“I just don’t like lying. Not about something like this. An engagement isn’t some throwaway PR stunt. It means something. Or it should, anyway.”

“You’re the one who agreed to it,” Dash pointed out.

I turned to face them. “Because you all pressured me into it. You said it was necessary. So fine, I’m doing it. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming all three of you.”

“Noted,” Dash said, unbothered by the threat.

“I’m serious. This has to work. Not just the fake relationship—all of it. We get one shot at this. One chance to prove to the world that Blackwell Couture is in good hands. That Dad’s legacy is secure with us.”

“It will work,” Briggs said with far more confidence than I felt. “We’ve got this, Adrian. Trust the process.”

I wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him. But doubt was gnawing at me, whispering that we’d bitten off more than we could chew.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Elizabeth. I just didn’t like how she was reacting to the lying.

“I’ll have Carol put together a packet for Elizabeth,” Dash offered. “Talking points, schedule, guidelines for social media. The usual.”

“Make sure it’s not overwhelming. She’s not used to this world and I don’t want to scare her off.”

“She’ll adapt,” Sebastian said, standing and stretching. “People always do. Besides, she’s got you to guide her. Lucky girl.”

The sarcasm was thick, but I ignored it.

I poured myself another drink and settled into my chair, pulling up the early press coverage on my computer. The photos of us were everywhere. The image was convincing. Too convincing. Looking at it made me feel something I didn’t want to examine too closely.

What would it be like to have a woman look at me like I hung the moon and not like a walking credit card? That was the look I saw in Elizabeth’s eyes. A photographer had captured the perfect picture. Elizabeth’s eyes were on me, a slight smile on her lips. She looked truly enamored.

Maybe she was a better actress than I gave her credit for.

Friday morning came too quickly. I’d spent half the night reviewing logistics for the New York show, and the other half thinking about Elizabeth and whether she’d actually show up today or if she’d come to her senses and run for the hills.

The photographer, Collin, was one of the best in the business. “Elizabeth should be here soon,” I said. “It’s her first professional shoot, so she might be nervous.”

“No problem. I’ll take it easy on her.” He grinned. “Though between you and me, after seeing those pics from yesterday’s press conference, I don’t think she has anything to worry about. The camera’s going to love her.”

Elizabeth arrived exactly on time.

“Good morning,” I said, moving to greet her. “How are you?”

She grimaced. “Honestly, I feel like throwing up.”

“See, you’re like a model already,” I said, hoping to make her laugh. I got a smile, which was better than nothing.

“I don’t have to wear anything weird, do I?” she asked, eyes on mine.

“No, nothing crazy,” I said. “We’ll make this as painless as possible. Collin is the best, and it’s just the three of us. No crowds, no questions, just some photos. No pressure.”

She nodded, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. If she didn’t loosen up, these photos would look like some kind of hostage situation. They would be the kind of pictures that came with a ransom note.

I took a deep breath and shook my hands out. Elizabeth would be alright. She had to be.

Wardrobe had sent over options. I’d chosen a charcoal suit for myself and a deep burgundy dress for Elizabeth, something that would photograph well and complement without being too matchy. It was a dress I personally designed. She disappeared into the changing area while I put on my suit.