Page 33 of Pretend To Be Mine

And without Adrian watching, I flourished.

I walked that runway like I owned it. Posed like I’d been doing it for years. Smiled without forcing it. Even the turns—which had seemed impossible earlier—came naturally now.

“Yes!” Sebastian cheered as I completed a particularly tricky pivot. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

By the end, we’d got dozens of great shots. Sebastian showed me his phone—photo after photo of me looking confident, natural, like I actually belonged in front of a camera.

“These are amazing,” I breathed.

“You’re amazing,” Natasha corrected. “You just needed to get out of your own head.”

“And out from under my brother’s overwhelming presence,” Sebastian added. He gave me a pointed look. “Though I have to say, I’m a little offended. I’m just as famous as Adrian, you know. More charming. Definitely better looking⁠—”

“Your ego will survive,” I said, nodding toward where the models had returned to his sides like magnets. “Seems pretty healthy to me.”

Simone laughed. “She’s got you there.”

“Please don’t tell Adrian what I said. About being starstruck. I’m scared enough of him as it is.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Sebastian promised. Then his grin turned wicked. “Though I make no promises about how long I can resist teasing him with it.”

“Sebastian.”

“Relax. I’ll be subtle.” He looked at the photos on his phone again. “But we do need to figure out how to get you this comfortable when Adrian’s actually around. Because these photos? These are gold. But they don’t do us any good if you freeze up the moment he enters the room.”

He was right. I just had no idea how to fix it.

How do you stop being starstruck by someone who looks like Adrian Blackwell? Who commands every room he enters? Who makes you forget how to breathe with just a glance?

“Maybe I just need more time with him,” I suggested weakly. “Get used to being around him.”

“Or, maybe you need to stop seeing him as Adrian Blackwell, fashion icon, and start seeing him as just Adrian. The guy. The human.”

I sighed. They were right, but it was a lot easier said than done.

11

ADRIAN

Icranked the treadmill up another notch. My lungs burned, my legs screamed, but I kept pushing. Faster. Like I could outrun the thoughts circling my brain like storm clouds.

Nothing worked.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Love Week. There were so many moving pieces already. Adding a fake engagement seemed like a terrible idea, but we needed something drastic to change the focus of the media coverage. Instead of questioning the Blackwell brothers’ ability to keep the company on top, people were asking who the gorgeous girl was.

Who had finally tamed one of the Blackwells, fashion’s most notorious bachelors? Who was the sweet-looking woman, so different than the models Adrian was usually surrounded by?

I punched the speed up again and pushed myself to the point of almost losing step and sending my body flying across the room. I caught my balance at the last second, just barely saving myself from embarrassment.

I was all messed up. It wasn’t the engagement, and it wasn’t just Love Week. The problem was the sheer scale of it. Five shows in eight days across four cities. Thousands of moving parts, any one of which could fail. And if even one thing went wrong, it would reflect on all of us.

On Dad’s legacy.

My brothers all seemed infuriatingly calm about the whole thing. Sebastian was treating it like an extended vacation with stops at fancy parties. Dash was in full logistics mode but unruffled, like coordinating international fashion shows was no more complicated than ordering lunch. Even Briggs, who worried about everything, seemed confident.

Only I was jumpy. Jumpy as a kangaroo in a bouncy house, which was a ridiculous image but unfortunately accurate.

It came with being the face of the company. I hadn’t asked for that role. We were all equal partners but I was the eldest, so they had named me the official CEO. So I was the one the media always turned to for quotes and soundbites. But if I fucked up, it was a huge black stain on all of us, not just me.