Chapter 6
Chapter Six
N ormally, Delta’s dressing room was a place of serenity and calm, but tonight it was chaotic.
Her entire glam squad was in attendance to get her ready for the Black and Gold Music Experience. Two members of her team were men—her makeup artist and Pierre, her personal shopper and fashion consultant. Both had flown in from LA. The two women were her hairstylist and nail technician, both based out of Atlanta.
Her publicist, Rochelle, sat in the corner, her raven hair hanging in bone-straight sheets that hid half her face as she texted. At the event, she would accompany Delta as she strolled the red carpet.
Dressed in a white robe, Delta sat in front of her vanity chatting with fans on Instagram Live as she prepared for the big night.
She let out a peal of laughter at a comment from one of the viewers. “It’s a lot of work to look the way we do. I wish I woke up like this,” she said.
She extended her right hand so the nail technician could work on her nails while the stylist gently pulled her hair out of huge rollers.
Leaning slightly forward, Delta read the next question on the iPad screen. “Are you going alone or is Ignacio Santana going to escort you?”
Instead of answering, she smiled coyly and purposely fueled speculation by saying, “I’m looking forward to an amazing evening. The Music Experience is one of my favorite events to attend each year.”
Emoji-filled comments raced up the screen—exactly the reaction she had anticipated. She felt a surge of guilt at the excited comments but reminded herself that what she and Ignacio were doing was a necessary evil. There was no other way to get what they both wanted.
Minutes later, she turned off the live stream and let the team finish their work. Almost an hour later, she examined her appearance in the floor-length mirror.
Standing off to the side, Rochelle eyed her from head to toe. “You look stunning,” she gushed.
Delta took the compliment in stride, smiling her Thank you. Her team had truly done an amazing job. First, her hair was styled in loose curls that tumbled onto her shoulders. Her hair didn’t always behave, but it was being good tonight.
Her shimmering gown was a Balmain original. The lavender color complemented her dark skin and hugged her curves, the high slit on the left revealing her toned leg, a testament to her hard work with a personal trainer. Her makeup artist had dusted glittering bronzer onto her shoulders, which were shown off by the strapless design of the dress.
Pierre’s dark brown hair fell over his forehead as he lowered to his haunches and completed her outfit by slipping a pair of Piferi metallic gold sandals with ankle straps on her feet. “Now for the finishing touch,” he said, fastening a diamond choker around her neck.
Delta tossed her hair and squared her shoulders the way she had been taught in etiquette classes as a young girl. “How do I look?”
“Stunning,” the nail technician whispered.
Hands on her hips, Delta did a slow turn, taking her time to complete another thorough examination of her appearance in the mirror. As much as she enjoyed the comfort of sweatpants and jeans, at heart, she was a girly girl who loved dressing up for industry parties and red carpet events.
Her team applauded.
“You’re going to be the talk of the red carpet—in more ways than one,” Rochelle said with a wink.
Part of the agreement between her and Ignacio had been to tell as few people as possible about their fake relationship so the truth wouldn’t leak. Her publicist knew, and so did her inner circle—her parents and her sister. He had agreed that only his manager and personal assistant would be told.
“So the two of you are really back together?” The question came from her hairstylist.
“We are,” Delta said, infusing her voice with enthusiasm—the way a woman in love would.
Lying was never easy, and it was especially difficult to do to people who cared about you, but she forced a smile to her lips.
“Oh, I’m happy for you!” The nail technician gave her a quick hug.
“Thank you.”
What a nightmare it was going to be when they “broke up.”
Rochelle checked her phone. “Okay, everybody, we gotta go. The limo is pulling up. Pierre, you’re riding with me. Let’s go, people!”
There was a flurry of activity as they all grabbed their belongings. Delta picked up a bluish-gray stone from her dresser and dropped it into her purse. Her good luck charm. Then she hustled out of the dressing room with everyone else and crossed the floor of the bedroom suite into the hallway. Vivian’s door cracked open as they passed her room.
Delta immediately stopped and spread her arms wide, showing off for her sister.
Vivian gave the expected bright smile. “You look gorgeous!”
“Thank you!” Delta blew her a kiss and caught up with her team.
Holding Pierre’s arm, she carefully walked down the stairs and out the front door as a white limousine pulled into the circular driveway.
As soon as Delta saw the vehicle, every muscle in her body tightened. Ava, her bodyguard, hopped out of the front passenger seat wearing a dark pantsuit the same color as her buzz-cut hair.
Then Ignacio emerged from the back of the limo. Delta’s chest tightened and, annoyingly, her heart tripped over itself. She hated her reaction to him. It was innate, automatic, instinctual. She had zero control, which angered as well as disgusted her.
He moved with the smooth, relaxed gait of a man accustomed to commanding the attention of those around him. He wore his hair down around his face, his appearance scrumptious in a charcoal Tom Ford suit that draped perfectly over his body. His crisp white shirt was undone at the collar, lending an air of casual sophistication to his appearance.
When he stopped in front of her, she straightened her back.
“You…” he paused, as if trying to find the right words.
Something in his eyes flashed—a vaguely familiar expression she had seen in the past. An expression that was usually the prelude to passion-filled whispers and a fiery toss beneath the sheets as their bodies strained against each other. His hand at her throat. His lips on her neck. But he schooled his features into an impassive expression, causing her to think she must have imagined what she saw.
“You look amazing.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d believe he meant the words by the way his eyes scanned her body, coming to rest on her exposed left thigh before making their way back to her face.
But the sentence had been spoken without emotion, in a perfunctory manner—as if he felt obligated to say it instead of there being any sincerity behind the compliment.
“Thanks,” Delta said tightly, if for no other reason than for appearance’s sake.
Ignacio slipped his hand to the small of her back, the heat from his touch penetrating the material of her dress and raising the temperature in her blood.
He lowered his lips to her ear as if he were whispering a naughty secret. “Remember to smile. We’re supposed to be madly in love and experiencing the excitement of our newfound relationship.”
She fought the shiver that undulated through her body as his warm, minty breath brushed her sensitive skin.
He wanted fake. She could be fake.
Delta shot a flirtatious, sidelong glance at him. “Thank you for the reminder, baby. How could I forget?” She spoke sweetly in a whisper, punctuating her words with a smile and touching his clean-shaven cheek with the tips of her fingers.
His jaw firmed and his gray eyes darkened momentarily before he said in a curt voice, “We should go.”
He nudged her forward with his hand at her spine, and they made their way to the limousine, where the driver now waited beside the open door.
“I’ll meet you there!” Rochelle called. Her car was parked up front. She and Pierre hopped in and took off.
Delta slid onto the leather seat, and Ignacio sat beside her. When the door shut, unexpected panic erupted inside her, and her heart started racing.
This was it. They were about to perform for all the people at the event and those watching at home, and they had to convince every last one of them that they were together again and happy.
“What’s so funny?” Ignacio asked.
She must have laughed out loud by accident but decided to be honest. “I think this whole charade is ridiculous. Crazy.” She kept her voice low, watching as the driver slid behind the wheel and Ava reclaimed her place at the front.
Resting a hand atop his knee, Ignacio relaxed against the leather seat. “You could always back out.”
Delta tossed him a scathing look. “You first.”
After a brief pause, Ignacio rolled up the partition so they could have privacy. “Let’s remember what’s at stake, shall we? We both have something to gain if we play our roles correctly.”
“Play our roles. Easy for you to say. You’re an actor.”
He made walking the red carpet look easy. Maybe because his parents had been in the entertainment business for years, and he’d been in the public eye since he was a child.
“What you do is acting too. You play a role as a singer and performer. I’ve seen your dance routines with your partners on stage. Shouldn’t be too hard to pretend you have feelings for me.”
“But I actually like them,” Delta said.
Adjusting his cuff, Ignacio laughed. The sound was dry and without humor. “Just do what I do when I’m with you. Fake it.”
Delta shot him her best kiss-my-ass smile. “I’ll do my best.”
Then she focused her attention on the outside scenery. She had no intention of talking to him for the rest of the trip.