3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
All Eyes on Me
Simone
I’ve always thrived in the spotlight.
Always have.
Always will.
Tonight’s highlight is my dress—a custom Saint Laurent creation that fits me like a second skin. It’s emerald, my favorite color, though it’s unfortunate that the shade matches Luca’s eyes almost perfectly.
The sequins shimmer beneath the chandeliers at Dad’s charity gala. Paired with a silver Hermès bag and black Louboutins, the dress makes me feel exactly as I should.
Adored.
Envied.
Completely at home.
Showing off has never exhausted me.
I enjoy the attention.
The cameras outside were relentless, but I loved every second of it. The press devoured the performance Adrien and I gave them, calling for us to look their way and move closer together.
Oddly enough, being the media’s favorite offers a different kind of thrill than performing onstage.
Adrien and I arrived in the Becroft’s’ limousine, arm in arm and playing our roles to perfection.
He’s a natural.
He leaned toward my ear, murmuring just loudly enough for the cameras to capture his laughter, my answering giggle, and the casual placement of his hand against the small of my back.
It still surprises me that he can stand this close without panicking when one glimpse of my cleavage the other night made him look ready to throw himself off a cliff.
I suppose he’s had plenty of practice.
Pretending to be something he isn’t.
From the outside, we look like the perfect couple.
Which is exactly the point.
Dad has outdone himself with the ballroom.
Every Rochefort gathering is designed to showcase obscene amounts of wealth but tonight feels even more extravagant. Not one inch of the room fails to announce how rich and important everyone here is.
And I love it.
Crystal chandeliers cast light across the guests. A string quartet performs near a wall of windows. Champagne towers glitter beneath golden spotlights.
The ballroom is filled with the most powerful, wealthy, and scandalous people in our social circle.
The crème de la crème, gathered beneath the convenient disguise of goodwill and charity.
I know nearly everyone here.
Tonight, I bask in their attention, offering my signature smirk to anyone whispering as I pass—especially now that I have a Belcourt at my side.
Bran was right.
Dad knew exactly what he was doing when he arranged my date with the billionaire family’s only son.
A Belcourt and a Rochefort.
What a power couple.
The best part is how pleased Dad looks with our performance.
I catch him watching us as we parade through the room like museum exhibits. Francis Rochefort is not an easy man to impress, but tonight he appears satisfied, as though years of meddling have finally paid off.
If I hadn’t dragged Adrien to that hotel and proposed our ridiculous fake-sex performance, he probably never would have suggested fake dating.
Our evening would have ended like all the others.
More boring conversation.
More false laughter.
Then I would have done something outrageous—insulted him, caused a scene, or found another way to ensure Dad understood we weren’t compatible.
Dad would have introduced me to another wealthy heir, and the cycle would have continued because directly refusing him has never been as easy as it should be.
Now I’m pretending to be infatuated with Adrien, and Dad has finally stopped bothering me.
If playing a role keeps him off my back, then so be it.
Adrien is charming and refined, although his flirting still needs work. I’ve been doing most of the heavy lifting since we arrived—the lingering touches, the inside jokes, the suggestive smiles.
It’s entertaining in its own way.
And convincing.
That’s all that matters.
“They’re buying it,” Adrien whispers as he takes two champagne flutes from a passing server.
He hands one to me.
“My parents look like God personally answered their prayers.”
I glance toward his family, who are speaking with Dad.
Sure enough, his parents are looking at us as though we’re two angels walking down the aisle. His sisters are openly staring, apparently unable to believe we’re together.
I turn back to Adrien with a suppressed grin.
“Not to brag, but you are claiming to date a Rochefort.”
“Understandable.” He sips his champagne. “Is he going to be here?”
“Who?”
His grin turns wicked. “Your bodyguard.”
“First of all, he isn’t my bodyguard.”
I raise a finger between us.
“I was simply unfortunate enough to have him hovering over me that night. Second, why the hell would I care whether he’s here?”
“You did force us to have outrageously loud fake sex just to irritate him.” Adrien lifts one shoulder. “I’m sensing chemistry.”
I scoff. “You’d better not let anyone hear you say that.”
“Of course not.”
I step closer as though I’m about to kiss him.
That’s right, people.
Take more pictures.
“There is no chemistry,” I warn through my smile. “And if you say that again, I will rip off your balls and feed them to pigs.”
“That’s quite an image.”
I smirk. “Try me.”
Over his shoulder, I spot my friends waving from a nearby lounge area.
Delphine, Camille, and Blossom.
They’re smirking as they watch Adrien and me, and I excuse myself before gracefully crossing the room toward them.
“Finally,” Del says dramatically. “We were beginning to think you’d actually fallen for that delicious Italian.”
“I have.”
“Sure you have.” Blossom laughs.
I don’t.
All three women stare at me as though I’ve lost my mind.
“You’re in love with him?” Camille asks, her eyebrows climbing.
I shrug. “Love is a strong word. But I think he’s cute.”
“Yes,” Del says. “You and every other woman in the room. The tabloids are already calling you a power couple.”
“Maybe it’s because we are.”
Camille laughs. “I don’t believe it. He’s handsome, but he isn’t your type.”
I snort. “What exactly is my type?”
“The opposite of Adrien.”
“I thought you preferred mysterious, brooding men,” Blossom adds.
“I don’t have a type,” I lie. “My type depends on my mood, and tonight I’m in the mood for a Belcourt.”
“Christ,” Del murmurs, looking toward the entrance. “That is one disastrous shade of fuchsia.”
She’s staring at Fergusson Lancaster’s wife, who has just entered the ballroom wearing a gown bright enough to direct traffic.
I’m about to agree when Camille releases a dreamy sigh.
“God,” she says, tilting her head for a better view. “Just look at him.”
I instinctively follow her gaze.
And there he is.
Luca.
Stupid, annoying, infuriatingly gorgeous Luca.
Fuck him for showing up looking like this.
For looking desirable.
For looking like sin.
He’s standing near the bar, deep in conversation with Bran.
The sleek black suit he’s wearing should not fit anyone that well. His crisp white shirt is open at the collar, making him appear effortlessly composed.
Effortlessly good.
His black hair is swept away from his face, except for one strand hanging above his eye. A five-o’clock shadow darkens his jaw, and a silver chain disappears beneath his shirt.
If his jacket were off and his sleeves rolled up, everyone would be able to see the intricate tattoos covering his left arm.
Unlike the men who preen and perform for this crowd, Luca carries himself as though he doesn’t give a damn about any of it.
Goddamn him.
I hate how completely his presence disrupts the balance I felt before he arrived.
I hate that my friends—women courted by princes and billionaires—are openly staring at him like he just stepped out of a fantasy.
Blossom fans herself. “It’s infuriating how unapproachable he is.”
Del continues watching him as though she’s preparing to pounce. “You’d think working for the Rocheforts this long would have loosened him up.”
I give them an unimpressed look. “He’s a bodyguard.”
“The sexiest bodyguard,” Blossom says.
“The most handsome,” Camille adds.
Del sighs. “He could pass for a prince.”
“Jesus Christ.” I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Camille glances at me as though I’m interrupting her favorite show. “What’s unbelievable is that you’re pretending you don’t see him.”
“Because I don’t.” Another lie. “I have no idea what any of you see in him.”
Blossom grins. “So you’re not interested?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
My friends exchange a look.
Then all three burst into laughter.
“What?” I scowl.
Del wipes an imaginary tear from her eye. “I forgot how bitter you still are.”
I narrow my eyes. “About what?”
I swear to God, if she says it—
“Oh, come on,” Del says. “You were what? Seventeen? Eighteen? You threw yourself at him, and he rejected you.”
Oh, brother.
“That was years ago.”
“Yes.” Camille nods while returning her attention to Luca. “And yet whenever his name comes up, you act completely unbothered in a way that is very obviously the opposite.”
“You’re all delusional.”
“Are we?” Blossom asks.
And just like that, I’m sick of them.
“Yes.”
I lift my chin while they continue giggling, clearly unconvinced.
For one brief moment, I consider walking over to Luca just to prove them wrong.
To show them that what happened five years ago means nothing.
That he means nothing.
But the last thing I want is to let him believe he has any effect on me.
Besides, I’m Simone Rochefort.
I don’t have to prove myself to anyone.
Friends or otherwise.
Fortunately, Adrien appears beside me and flashes the women his charming smile.
“Excuse me, ladies.” He slides one arm around my waist. “I’m afraid I need to steal her for a few minutes.”
“That’s fine,” Del says, giving me a knowing smirk. “You two do look good together.”
“Of course we do.” I smile. “We’re a power couple.”
Adrien guides me away, and once we’re out of earshot, I let the smile fall.
“You were starting to look tense,” he says. “I had to play the knight in shining armor and rescue the damsel in distress.”
“Very funny. But thank you. I would have walked away eventually, but your timing was better.”
“What annoyed you?”
“They wouldn’t stop drooling over Luca.”
Adrien’s eyebrow rises. “The bodyguard?”
“Yes, the bodyguard.”
I take his champagne and drain it like a shot.
“You’d think they had never seen a man in a suit.”
“And why does that bother you?”
“It doesn’t.”
I laugh, although my jaw remains tight.
“It doesn’t. It genuinely doesn’t.”
I add a dramatic shrug.
“I simply think it’s ridiculous that they’re fawning over him when he isn’t even that attractive.”
“I can’t agree with you there.”
Adrien subtly nods toward the bar.
Luca is still talking to Bran, slowly turning his glass between his fingers as he listens. He bites his lower lip in concentration.
“He is one good-looking specimen,” Adrien says.
“Please. He isn’t that special.”
“I never said he was.”
Adrien grins as though he has just shot me in the leg.
“You know, I think I’m starting to like you.”
“I’m not difficult to like.”
“It helps that we have something in common.”
“Oh?”
I raise an eyebrow, genuinely interested.
Aside from wealthy families with political connections, I can’t imagine what Adrien and I could possibly share.
“Humor me.”
“My parents are exactly like your father,” he explains. “They’re always searching for the perfect alliance. The perfect marriage. The perfect woman for me. Someone who will strengthen the family name.”
I sigh. “I’ve endured more eligible bachelors with trust funds and fragile egos than I can count. Half of them only want to sleep with me so they can boast about it afterward.”
Adrien releases a dry laugh. “At least you like men.”
“Unfortunately.”
Then his words register.
I blink.
“You do too.”
“Surprise.”
I clap my hands together. “I knew it.”
He stares at me, amused.
“I mean, I wasn’t certain,” I continue, “but you looked ready to pass out when I held your hand. Then you looked horrified when I suggested the hotel, but you were too polite to refuse.”
“True.” He laughs and exhales. “Although you also made me nervous. You’re intimidating.”
Strike two.
Brilliant work, Simone.
“Your parents don’t know, do they?”
“No one in my family knows.” His smile fades. “I come from a long line of homophobes. That’s why I’m doing this.”
My chest tightens.
“You can’t do this forever. You can’t spend your life miserable because some people might refuse to accept you.”
I gesture toward myself.
“I accept you. That should be more than enough.”
Adrien bursts into full, genuine laughter.
It makes me smile.
“You’re right.” He nods, still laughing. “The Simone Rochefort accepts me. My life is finally complete.”
A new warmth settles in my chest.
“You know, I’m beginning to like you too.”
“Finally.”
He presses one hand dramatically against his heart.
“I was worried this friendship might be one-sided.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “It’s official. You’re tolerable.”
“What a marvelous review.”
“You should hang it above your bed.”
“I’ll read it every morning.”
“Words of affirmation.”
“Exactly.”
He smiles before lowering his voice.
“By the way, I don’t want to encourage your denial, but your bodyguard keeps looking over here.”
Something inside me stumbles.
I cover it with a scoff.
“Oh, please.”
“I’m serious.” Adrien tilts his chin toward Luca. “He’s been stealing glances at you since he arrived.”
I refuse to look.
“Anyone would. Have you seen this dress?”
“Simone.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Adrien shrugs. “Whatever you say.”
“I do say so.”
And Luca Moreau had better not be looking at me.
Because it’s bad enough that Adrien has planted the possibility in my head.
Now I suddenly have no idea how to act.