Chapter 7
ADRIAN
Iwas playing it cool, but the text message I got from Dash had me considering running upstairs instead of waiting for the elevator. I was going to choke him. And then throw him from the window of his office.
But I kept it cool. I sent Annika a text and let her know I needed Elizabeth ready now and then I very calmly strolled through the office like the world wasn’t shifting under my feet.
I found Dash standing at the windows in his office with his phone pressed to his ear, nodding at whatever the person on the other end was saying. Briggs sat at the small table in the corner, laptop open, typing like his fingers were on fire.
I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Which one of you scheduled a press conference already?”
Dash glanced over his shoulder, held up one finger in a “just a minute” gesture, and went back to his call. I felt my blood pressure spike.
Briggs looked up from his laptop, reading my expression immediately. “Dash set it up this morning. He was going to tell you—”
“This morning? Elizabeth signed the contract forty-five minutes ago.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing.” I moved into the room. My body was vibrating with frustration. “We agreed I would have time to prepare her. To ease her into this. You can’t just throw her to the wolves without warning. What if she hadn’t agreed to the deal?”
“Adrian, take a breath.” Briggs was trying to be the diplomatic one. He was going to use his lawyer bullshit on me.
I wasn’t having it. “She’s not a professional, Briggs. She’s my friend’s sister who agreed to help us out. This isn’t fair to her.”
Dash ended his call and turned around, completely unfazed by my anger. “Fair? Since when does fair enter into this equation? We have a job to do.”
“Don’t start with me right now.” Everything just got very real very fast. I wasn’t sure I was ready.
Shit, I barely agreed to the stupid ruse.
I was not expecting to announce my engagement.
I felt like this was something a guy should work up to.
“Why would you schedule something without consulting me first?”
“Because you would have said no.” Dash opened his minifridge and pulled out two cans of Dr. Pepper. He handed one to me. I stared at it. “Drink. You need sugar before you completely spin out.”
I snatched it out of his hand, realizing he was right. My blood sugar felt like it had plummeted. “This fixes nothing,” I muttered before cracking open the can and taking a drink.
Dash sipped on his and sat on the edge of his desk. “The New York kickoff is in a week and a half. If we want this engagement to have any impact, we need to announce it now. Give it time to percolate, let people get invested in the story.”
“A week and a half is plenty of time.”
“It’s not.” Dash cut me off, his usual easy-going demeanor hardening.
“We need the narrative to shift before opening night, not during it. That means we need the announcement today, press coverage tomorrow, a few strategic appearances over the next week to get the momentum going. This is basic PR timeline stuff, Adrian. You know this.”
I did know it. I just hated that he was right.
“You still should have told me,” I said, hearing how petulant it sounded even as the words left my mouth.
“I’m telling you now.” Dash cocked his head to the side and looked at me. “What’s the real problem here? Because from where I’m sitting, this is perfect timing. You found someone, she signed the paperwork, now we roll it out. Clean and simple.”
“The problem is she has no idea what she’s walking into. I met her less than an hour ago. She can barely string two sentences together when I’m in the room, and you want to put her in front of cameras?”
Briggs closed his laptop. “Is she really that bad?”
“She’s terrified. Of me, of this whole situation.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the headache pounding at my temples. “I should have taken more time. Done a rehearsal or something. She needed time to process this. Maybe I do, too.”
“There’s no time for rehearsals,” Dash said flatly. “We have a press conference in,” he checked his watch, “twenty-three minutes. So unless you want to cancel it and deal with the fallout of looking completely disorganized, she’s going to have to figure it out.”
“Dash, you know this is poor planning.”
“Look, I get it. You’re trying to be considerate. That’s very noble of you. But we’re past the point of handholding. Either she can do this or she can’t, and we’re about to find out which one it is.”
The casual dismissiveness in his tone made my hands curl into fists. “She’s not a prop. She’s a person who’s doing us a massive favor.”
“And getting paid fifty grand for it,” Dash countered. “Plus a job. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be grateful, but let’s not pretend this is charity work. She’s getting something out of this too.”
He wasn’t wrong, but the way he said it made my teeth grind.
“We can’t cancel now,” Briggs said quietly, ever the voice of reason. “Dash is right about that much. The invitations went out. Canceling would raise questions we can’t answer. It would look like chaos in the ranks, and that’s the last thing we need right now.”
I looked between my brothers and couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
“Fine,” I said finally. “But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming both of you.”
“Get in line,” Dash said cheerfully. “Sebastian’s already called dibs on blaming me for everything.”
“Where is Sebastian, anyway?”
“Probably making poor life choices.” Dash said. “Want me to round him up for the press conference? Might be good to have the whole family there.”
“No. This is about Elizabeth and me. Keep it simple.” I headed for the door, then paused. “And Dash? Next time you want to schedule something involving my fake fiancée, run it by me first.”
“Will do, boss.” The sarcasm was thick enough to cut.
I left before I punched him. Working with a family was both a blessing and a curse. I would get over his impulsive press conference. It was better to cool off before I made this a bigger problem than it needed to be.
There was no going back. I couldn’t show up with Elizabeth, say she was my fiancée, and then have shit fall apart. I couldn’t very well buy the services of another woman and present her as my real fiancée. The press would catch on, and it would blow up in our faces.
Elizabeth had to work.
I headed back downstairs and found her exactly where I expected. She was in hair and makeup, sitting in a chair in front of a mirror surrounded by lights. Mary Jo stood in front of her with a makeup brush, working on Elizabeth’s eyes. Annika hovered nearby, holding what looked like a jewelry box.
Elizabeth was wearing a cream-colored dress, but I couldn’t see much of it. There was a black cape over it while Mary Jo finished her makeup.
Her hair had been styled in loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders. Even from across the room, I could see she looked stunning. It was a complete transformation.
The women worked fast.
Mary Jo stepped back. “Open your eyes,” she instructed Elizabeth.
When she did, my fake fiancée looked absolutely terrified.
Our eyes met in the mirror, and I could see the panic. She was ready to bolt.
“Can I talk to my fiancée alone for a minute?” I asked it casually, like this was completely normal.
Mary Jo and Annika exchanged a look. Then Mary Jo set down her brush and both women filed out, closing the door behind them.
Elizabeth sat frozen in the chair, staring at her reflection like she didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her. Her hands were clenched in her lap, knuckles white.
I moved closer. I could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the slight tremor in her fingers.
“Breathe,” I said softly.
She shook her head, a jerky movement. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. But first, you need to breathe with me. In through your nose.” I demonstrated, drawing in a slow breath. “Out through your mouth.”
She tried, but it came out shaky, close to hyperventilating.
I reached out and took her hand, feeling how cold her fingers were. “Again. In through your nose. Count to four.”
This time she followed my lead. In for four, hold for four, out for four. We did it three times.
“Better?” I asked.
“A little.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Adrian, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this. This isn’t me. I’m not… I’m not the kind of person who stands in front of cameras and lies to the world.”
I’d dragged her into this mess with promises of money and jobs, but I hadn’t fully considered what I was asking her to sacrifice.
“I understand that. And if you’re going to back out, now’s the time. We have about fifteen minutes before that press conference starts. If you walk away, I’ll handle it. I’ll figure something else out.”
“You will?”
“Yes. But for what it’s worth?” I waited until she looked at me directly, those green eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I think you’d make a perfect fiancée.”
A small, sad laugh escaped her. “You barely know me.”
“The question isn’t whether you can do this. The question is whether you want to.”
She looked so confused.
“I probably should have eased you into this more,” I admitted. “Gotten to know you a bit first. Let you get comfortable with the idea before throwing you in front of the press.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know. Sometimes when something scares you, you just have to do the thing scared. Say no if you don’t like me. Say no if this white lie feels too dishonest for you. But don’t say no because you’re scared.”
The tears in her eyes threatened to spill over.
“I’m going to ruin my makeup,” she said with a watery laugh.
“Mary Jo can fix it. That’s literally her job. You’re not the first person to get emotional sitting in that chair.”
She took another deep breath. “Okay,” she said finally. “Okay, I can do this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Hell no. But I’m going to do it anyway.” She looked at me directly for the first time since I’d entered the room.
“Elizabeth? Thank you. For doing this. For trusting me.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, attempting a smile. “I might throw up on your shoes during the press conference.”
“That’s one way to change the narrative around Blackwell Couture. But, hey, I have other shoes.”
This time her laugh was more genuine, and something in my chest loosened.
I released her hand and went to the door, opening it to find Mary Jo and Annika waiting in the hallway, trying and failing to look like they hadn’t been listening.
I stepped back into the hallway and leaned against the wall, my own heart still racing from the conversation. That had been close. Too close. Elizabeth had been seconds away from walking out. I would have let her, of course.
But she hadn’t walked away.
My phone buzzed with a text from Dash. 10 minutes. Where are you?
I typed back. On my way. Have the ring ready.
His response was immediate. Already at the podium. Don’t be late to your own engagement announcement.
I pocketed my phone and pushed off the wall, heading back toward the makeup room. Through the open door, I could see Elizabeth in the mirror, looking more composed now, her makeup repaired. Mary Jo was adding final touches while Annika fastened a delicate necklace around Elizabeth’s throat.
She caught my reflection in the mirror and our eyes met again. This time, instead of terror, I saw something else.
Trust.
God help me, I couldn’t screw this up.