Page 87 of Pretend To Be Mine

What if it was real, and I let it slip away because I was too scared to claim it?

Before I could even think about that, I had a show to help execute. Sebastian might be relaxed, but someone needed to make sure every detail was perfect.

That was who I was. The responsible one. The one who put duty first. I didn’t think that would ever change.

28

ELIZABETH

Iwandered through the massive place, pausing to look at some of the art in the ornate hallways. Oil paintings in gilded frames lined the walls. There were portraits of stern-looking aristocrats and landscapes of rolling English countryside that probably cost more than twelve cars combined. I wished I had more time to appreciate the beauty of the place. It was like a museum, but I knew someone probably lived here. Or had lived here. Maybe they rented it out now for events like this, trading privacy for the income needed to maintain a property this size.

I passed caterers carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d’oeuvres. Models in various states of undress hurried by, some already in full hair and makeup, others still in sweats with their faces bare. Production assistants rushed past with clipboards and headsets, speaking in urgent tones about lighting cues and music transitions.

I had to pinch myself to remember it was all real.

Two weeks ago, I’d been serving coffee to rude customers and wondering if my fashion degree had been a waste of money. Now I was in a centuries-old English manor, about to watch a fashion show that would be livestreamed to millions of people around the world.

And I was here as Adrian Blackwell’s fiancée.

Fake fiancée, I reminded myself. Can’t forget the fake part.

But after what Sebastian had said—that whole comment about our arrangement, said so casually, like it was obvious this was all just business—the reminder stung more than usual.

I found the east wing and counted doors until I reached the second one on the left. I knocked softly before entering.

Annika looked up from a table covered in fabric swatches, pins, and what looked like half a dress. “Elizabeth! Perfect timing. I need a second opinion on this hemline.”

I smiled at the organized chaos that followed Annika wherever she went.

I studied the dress, black, almost transparent in places, with strategic panels that preserved modesty while suggesting everything underneath. And by preserving modesty, that was generous. I wasn’t sure if it was an evening gown or lingerie.

“It’s gorgeous,” I said. And then laughed. “Very Sebastian.”

“Right?” She grinned. “Decadence means I get to play with all the things that would never fly in a traditional show. This one is my favorite. Wait until you see it on the model. It moves like water.”

I could see it would. The construction was incredible, showing the kind of technical skill that made difficult things look effortless. There would certainly be a lot of boob tape involved, but it would be stunning. No man, or hell no woman for that matter, would be able to look away.

Which was the goal.

“You look a little down,” Annika observed. “Everything okay?”

“Fine. Great, actually.” I forced myself to smile. “I know you’re crazy busy, and you can totally tell me to kick rocks, but can I show you something?”

“Always. What is it?”

I pulled out my sketchbook and opened it to the three designs Adrian and I had created. “I designed these. Well, Adrian helped. He said if I can get them made by Wednesday, they can be in the Milan show.”

Annika’s eyes went wide. She took the sketchbook, studying each design with the intensity of a scholar examining ancient texts. “Elizabeth, these are incredible.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” She moved to her worktable, laying the sketchbook flat to see the details better. She adjusted her light to shine on the paper. “This is ambitious. Challenging. But achievable.” She touched the sapphire dress sketch. “This is going to photograph beautifully. When did Adrian say he wanted these?”

“By Wednesday. For Dash’s show in Milan on Thursday.” I twisted my hands together. “Is that crazy? Three dresses in four days?”

“It’s ambitious. But not impossible.” She was already making notes, her brain clearly working through logistics. “We’ll need to start tomorrow morning, first thing. The London show is tonight, so once that’s wrapped, we can focus entirely on your pieces.”

“You’ll help me?” Relief flooded through me.