Chapter 3
ADRIAN
The address Chris had sent me led to a burger joint wedged between a dry cleaner and a bodega in Hell’s Kitchen. I stood outside for a moment, double-checking my phone to make sure I had the right place. It was definitely not the kind of place I usually frequented.
I pushed through the door and cringed at the smell.
It wasn’t bad, but it was a dense. It just kind of hit you all at once.
Grease, onions, and meat. The combination of powerful scents actually made my stomach growl.
Chris was already sitting at a corner booth.
He raised a hand in greeting when he saw me.
“Chris, dude.” I slid into the booth across from him, shrugging out of my suit jacket. I felt overdressed in this place, all polished wool and Italian leather among the Formica tabletops and cracked vinyl seats. “It’s been too long.”
“Yeah, it has, man.” His smile faltered slightly. “I’m sorry I haven’t reached out more. After the funeral, I wanted to give you space, and then time just got away from me.”
The funeral. I pushed away the memory of that gray November day. I felt like I had been in a daze at the church while thousands of people I barely knew offered their condolences. Chris had been there, had sought me out specifically to pay his respects.
“Don’t apologize,” I said. “I’ve been difficult to reach lately. Life has gotten busy.”
“Understatement of the year, my friend.”
A server appeared, a woman in her fifties with bleached blonde hair and a name tag that read “Patty.” Chris ordered something called the Cardiac Arrest Burger without even looking at the menu.
I scanned the laminated card quickly and went with the same, figuring if Chris trusted it, it was probably safe.
“Two Cardiac Arrests,” Patty confirmed, scribbling on her pad. “You boys trying to meet Jesus today?”
“Just trying to meet lunch,” Chris said with a grin.
She smiled and strode toward the kitchen.
I leaned back against the booth, letting myself relax.
I had almost forgotten how to do that. The lunch request with Chris had come out of nowhere.
He’d texted me yesterday afternoon asking if I was free.
Something about the message had felt urgent.
I’d almost said no, my default response to anything that wasn’t directly related to work or Fashion of Love Week, but I’d caught myself.
When was the last time I’d done something normal?
Something that wasn’t a business meeting or a family obligation?
I couldn’t remember, which was exactly why I said yes.
“How are you?” I asked.
Chris shifted in his seat. Something was definitely up.
“Look, I want to catch up, I really do,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “But I need to get something out first, and I’m just going to say it because if I don’t, I’ll chicken out.”
“What’s up? Are you in trouble?”
He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that.”
“I have lawyers. Very good lawyers. Briggs knows even better ones—”
“My sister needs a job.”
The words came out in a rush, like he’d been holding his breath and finally let it go.
“Your sister needs a job,” I repeated slowly.
“Yes.”
“That’s it? That’s the big emergency?”
Chris’s face flushed. “I know, I know, it’s not the end of the world or anything.
But you know we’re friends, right? Real friends.
And I would never ask you for anything if it wasn’t really important.
Elizabeth—that’s my sister—she’s been struggling, and I thought maybe you might know someone, or know of something—”
I held up a hand, cutting off his rambling. I almost laughed at the relief I felt, since I had been preparing myself to hear some bad news. “Chris, breathe. Of course I’ll help.”
He stopped mid-sentence. “Really?”
“Really. Tell me about her.”
Patty reappeared with two enormous burgers. Bacon and mayo spilled out from between the buns. Cheese oozed down the sides. I was pretty sure I could feel my arteries constricting just looking at it. Given what happened to my father, I probably shouldn’t.
“Enjoy, boys,” Patty said with a wink.
I picked up the burger, realized there was no dignified way to eat it, and just committed to getting dirty. The first bite was actually incredible. Messy as hell but worth it.
Chris was already three bites in. He chewed, swallowed, and said, “Elizabeth went to the Fashion Institute. Graduated a while back. She’s a designer—dresses, mostly.
Really talented. But she can’t catch a break, you know?
She’s sent out her portfolio to like fifty places and got nothing but rejections. ”
I nodded, taking another bite. I knew that story. The fashion industry was brutal, especially for new designers. Talent mattered, but connections mattered more. It was an ugly truth but a truth nonetheless.
“She’s working as a waitress just to make rent,” Chris continued.
“And I can see it killing her, watching this dream slip away. She won’t say it, but I know she’s starting to think about giving up.
And Adrian, she’s good. Like, really good.
She just needs someone to give her a shot.
She can’t get people to even look at her stuff.
She doesn’t have the right last name. The right friends. ”
The protective big brother energy was radiating off him in waves. It was kind of endearing, actually. Chris had always struck me as laid back, but apparently his sister brought out his fierce side.
“Here’s what I can do,” I said, wiping burger grease off my fingers with a napkin that was far too thin to be effective.
“Let me get through Fashion of Love Week. It’s consuming every waking moment right now.
But after the finale, I’ll bring her in, look at her portfolio, and find her something at the company.
Even if it’s just an assistant position to start—get her foot in the door, let her build some professional experience. Does that work?”
Chris’s whole face lit up. “Are you serious? Adrian, that would be amazing. She’s going to lose her mind, man.”
“I’m not promising creative director or anything,” I cautioned. “But yeah, I’ll make sure she gets a real opportunity.”
“That’s all I’m asking for. All she needs is a chance.” He took another massive bite of his burger, chewed, and nodded like he was still continuing the conversation in his head. “So, Fashion of Love Week. That’s the big event your dad was planning, right?”
“Yeah. Five shows across four cities over the span of a week.”
“Sounds intense.”
“That’s putting it mildly. This thing is a massive beast, and honestly, I may not survive.” I meant it as a joke, but it came out more serious than I’d intended.
Chris studied me, wrinkles forming in the middle of his forehead. “You doing okay, man? I mean, really okay?”
I considered lying, giving him the standard “fine, just busy” response I gave everyone else. But this was Chris. One of the few people in my life who knew me as just Adrian.
“It’s a lot,” I admitted. “The show, the company, living up to Dad’s legacy. And now the PR team has decided we need to change our image before Love Week starts.”
“Change it how?”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “They want me to get engaged.”
Chris nearly choked on his burger. “What? You of all people?”
“Not for real. They want to hire an actress to play my fiancée. Apparently the public thinks my brothers and I are a bunch of shallow playboys who don’t know the first thing about love, which makes putting on an event called Fashion of Love Week somewhat problematic.”
“Huh.” Chris sat back, processing this. “And you’re actually considering it?”
“My brothers convinced me. They think it’ll change the narrative, get people talking about the romance instead of doubting our ability to pull off the event and run the company.
” I dragged another fry through ketchup.
“It’s manipulative and dishonest, and I hate it.
But if it helps the company, if it helps honor what Dad built… ”
I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
Chris was quiet for a moment, chewing his food. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened. “What about Elizabeth?”
I looked up, confused. “What about her?”
“For the fake fiancée thing. What if you asked Elizabeth?”
The suggestion caught me so off guard I actually set down my burger. “Your sister? You want me to ask your sister to be my fake fiancée?”
“Think about it.” Chris was leaning forward now as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“You need someone you can trust, right? Someone who won’t leak the story to the press or try to extort you later.
Well, Elizabeth is literally the most trustworthy person I know.
And she needs a way into the industry. This could be perfect for both of you. ”
“Chris, that’s…” I searched for the right word. Crazy? Inappropriate? Actually kind of brilliant? “Wouldn’t that be weird? You’re my friend. She’s your sister.”
“It’s a business arrangement,” he countered.
“You’d be helping each other out. And honestly, it would be an incredible opportunity for her.
She’d get insider access to Fashion of Love Week, meet all the right people, see how things work at the highest level.
That’s worth more than any entry-level position. ”
The idea was insane. What if she said no? What if she said yes and it was a disaster?
“She’s pretty, by the way,” Chris added casually. “In case that matters for the optics.”
“It’s not about—” I stopped myself. Of course it was about optics. That was the entire point of this charade. “I don’t even know what she looks like.”
“I can send you a photo if you want.”
“No, that feels wrong.” I rubbed my temples. “Look, even if I was considering this—and I’m not saying I am—there are a million ways this could go wrong.”
He shrugged. “Can’t go any more wrong than hiring some chick you don’t know.”
“I don’t know your sister,” I reminded him.
“At least with Elizabeth, you’d know she’s genuinely invested in making it work. She has just as much to gain as you do.”
I had to admit, he had a point. An actress would do it for the paycheck and move on. But someone who actually wanted a career in fashion? Someone who understood what was at stake? That person would be motivated to make it convincing.
And there was something appealing about the idea of working with someone Chris vouched for. Someone who came recommended by a friend rather than a talent agency. Someone I could theoretically trust not to destroy my life.
“What do you think she’d say?” I asked slowly. “If I asked her?”
Chris grinned. “I think she’d say yes. And I think you two would be great together. Even if it’s just pretend.”
“I’d need to talk to her first,” I said finally. “Meet her, see if we can even stand to be in the same room together. And she’d have to sign an NDA tighter than Fort Knox.”
“Of course.”
“And you’re absolutely sure she’d be okay with this? Because if she’s not comfortable—”
“Adrian, I know my sister. This is the opportunity she’s been waiting for. Just talk to her. I’ll text you her info right now.”
My phone buzzed a moment later with a contact labeled “Elizabeth Laramie” and a phone number with a New York area code.
It was a bad idea, but hiring a complete stranger was a worse idea. With a lot of luck, it might actually work.