Chapter 9
ADRIAN
We were all riding the high of a successful press conference. I hated doing any kind of media, but even I could admit that was damn good.
I led Elizabeth back up to our offices. My brothers were all sitting in the conference room, the mounted TV on the wall was on a news station with the sound muted. I knew they had all watched the conference from in here.
Dash had his laptop open, scrolling through social media reactions in real-time, a grin spreading across his face. “We’re trending on three platforms. People are eating this up.”
Briggs was on his phone, presumably fielding calls from PR contacts and industry insiders. He gave me a thumbs-up.
Sebastian lounged in one of the chairs, feet propped on the table despite my disapproving glare. “I have to admit you two looked good up there. She’s pretty when she’s not terrified, and you almost seemed human. It was very convincing.”
“It better be convincing,” I said, but I couldn’t deny the relief flooding through me. The press conference had gone well. Better than well, actually. Elizabeth had stumbled a bit, but her nervousness had read as genuine emotion. The reporters had bought it.
We’d actually pulled it off.
I glanced over at Elizabeth, who had not said more than a couple of words. She looked like she was in shock, her eyes slightly glazed.
I pulled her into a hug without thinking about it. “Thank you. You were amazing out there.”
She didn’t hug back. Just stood there, stiff as a board, her body rigid against mine.
I pulled away and looked at her more closely. Yeah, she was definitely in shock. That frozen quality was back, the same deer-in-headlights expression she’d worn in my office when I first proposed this arrangement.
That could end up being a problem.
“Elizabeth?” I waved a hand in front of her face. “You still with me? Do you need more wine? Or water?”
She blinked slowly. “I’m okay. I think so. Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”
I could feel my brothers watching us. I quietly led her back into the hall. “Why don’t you head home and get some rest? We have a photoshoot tomorrow. Should be easy. Just some posing and smiling, nothing too difficult.”
“Tomorrow?” Her voice was faint. “Already?”
“Strike while the iron’s hot. But it’ll be fine, I promise. Much more controlled than today was. I’ll have a car take you home. Get some sleep. I’ll text you the details for tomorrow.”
“I need to change.”
“Keep it,” I said. “It’s a sample.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I walked her all the way out of the building, hailed a cab, and paid the man with plenty left over for the tip.
Back in my office, all three of my brothers had made themselves comfortable. Sebastian had raided my whiskey, Dash had commandeered my desk chair, and Briggs was reviewing what looked like a contract on my couch.
“Make yourselves at home,” I said dryly.
“Already did.” Sebastian held up his glass in a mock toast. “To Adrian’s fake engagement. May it be slightly less disastrous than his past relationships.”
“What past relationships?” I asked, grabbing the bottle from him.
“Exactly,” he said. “This is uncharted territory for you, too. Not just Elizabeth.”
I poured myself two fingers and downed it in one swallow. The day had been a marathon, and it wasn’t over yet.
“Let’s talk schedule,” I said, settling into one of the chairs facing my desk. “What’s the plan for the next week and a half?”
Dash spun the chair around, pulling up a calendar on my computer without asking. “We’ve got you booked solid. Interviews. Some magazine photoshoots.”
“Interviews,” I said. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Maybe just me. Not both of us.”
“Why?” Sebastian asked.
“Elizabeth can barely string together a sentence. You want to put her on live TV?”
“She’ll be fine,” Dash said dismissively. “She just needs to get comfortable. That’s why we front-loaded the schedule. She’ll get lots of practice before the big events.”
I listened to them rattle off the schedule—appearances, interviews, photoshoots, all carefully orchestrated to build the narrative of Adrian Blackwell, reformed playboy.
“This is a lot,” I said finally.
“It’s necessary,” Dash countered. “We need saturation. We need people to be so invested in your love story that they’re tuning in to Love Week just to see you two together.”
“And what about actual preparation for Love Week? You know, the shows we’re supposed to be putting on?”
“That’s all on track,” Briggs assured me. “Teams are in place, venues are secured, designs are finalized. We’re in good shape.”
“We better be.” I stood, pacing to the window. “Because if this engagement thing distracts us from what really matters, we’re just shooting ourselves in the foot. I’m still not convinced it wasn’t a mistake.”
“It’s working,” Dash said.
“I just don’t like lying. Not about something like this. An engagement isn’t some throwaway PR stunt. It means something. Or it should, anyway.”
“You’re the one who agreed to it,” Dash pointed out.
I turned to face them. “Because you all pressured me into it. You said it was necessary. So fine, I’m doing it. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming all three of you.”
“Noted,” Dash said, unbothered by the threat.
“I’m serious. This has to work. Not just the fake relationship—all of it. We get one shot at this. One chance to prove to the world that Blackwell Couture is in good hands. That Dad’s legacy is secure with us.”
“It will work,” Briggs said with far more confidence than I felt. “We’ve got this, Adrian. Trust the process.”
I wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him. But doubt was gnawing at me, whispering that we’d bitten off more than we could chew.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Elizabeth. I just didn’t like how she was reacting to the lying.
“I’ll have Carol put together a packet for Elizabeth,” Dash offered. “Talking points, schedule, guidelines for social media. The usual.”
“Make sure it’s not overwhelming. She’s not used to this world and I don’t want to scare her off.”
“She’ll adapt,” Sebastian said, standing and stretching. “People always do. Besides, she’s got you to guide her. Lucky girl.”
The sarcasm was thick, but I ignored it.
I poured myself another drink and settled into my chair, pulling up the early press coverage on my computer. The photos of us were everywhere. The image was convincing. Too convincing. Looking at it made me feel something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
What would it be like to have a woman look at me like I hung the moon and not like a walking credit card? That was the look I saw in Elizabeth’s eyes. A photographer had captured the perfect picture. Elizabeth’s eyes were on me, a slight smile on her lips. She looked truly enamored.
Maybe she was a better actress than I gave her credit for.
Friday morning came too quickly. I’d spent half the night reviewing logistics for the New York show, and the other half thinking about Elizabeth and whether she’d actually show up today or if she’d come to her senses and run for the hills.
The photographer, Collin, was one of the best in the business. “Elizabeth should be here soon,” I said. “It’s her first professional shoot, so she might be nervous.”
“No problem. I’ll take it easy on her.” He grinned. “Though between you and me, after seeing those pics from yesterday’s press conference, I don’t think she has anything to worry about. The camera’s going to love her.”
Elizabeth arrived exactly on time.
“Good morning,” I said, moving to greet her. “How are you?”
She grimaced. “Honestly, I feel like throwing up.”
“See, you’re like a model already,” I said, hoping to make her laugh. I got a smile, which was better than nothing.
“I don’t have to wear anything weird, do I?” she asked, eyes on mine.
“No, nothing crazy,” I said. “We’ll make this as painless as possible. Collin is the best, and it’s just the three of us. No crowds, no questions, just some photos. No pressure.”
She nodded, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. If she didn’t loosen up, these photos would look like some kind of hostage situation. They would be the kind of pictures that came with a ransom note.
I took a deep breath and shook my hands out. Elizabeth would be alright. She had to be.
Wardrobe had sent over options. I’d chosen a charcoal suit for myself and a deep burgundy dress for Elizabeth, something that would photograph well and complement without being too matchy. It was a dress I personally designed. She disappeared into the changing area while I put on my suit.
When she emerged, I forgot how to form words for a solid five seconds.
The rich color made her eyes look even greener. Her hair was down now, styled in loose waves, and someone had done her makeup, subtle but effective.
She was stunning. That dress was absolutely perfect for her.
“Is it okay?” she asked, glancing down at herself.
“It’s perfect.”
A blush crept across her cheeks, which only made her more hypnotizing.
Collin had us start with simple poses. Basic couple stuff. But even these simple poses felt complicated with Elizabeth.
Every time I touched her, I felt her flinch. Not dramatically, but enough that I noticed. Her muscles would tense, her breathing would change. She was hyperaware of every point of contact between us.
And that awareness was contagious.
I’d modeled plenty before, back in my twenties when Dad had insisted all the brothers do it to promote the brand. I had done shoots with countless models. Physical attraction had never been an issue because it had never been part of the equation.
This was different.
I quickly realized I was getting turned on in the middle of a professional photoshoot, which had never happened before in my life.
“Adrian, can you pull her a bit closer? We need more intimacy.”
More intimacy and I was going to be pushing inside her.
I pulled Elizabeth more firmly against me and felt her entire body go rigid.
Professional. Stay professional.
But my body wasn’t getting the message. I could feel myself responding to her proximity. That was a problem because we were standing very close together and there was only so much a suit could hide.
I tried to angle my hips away slightly, but Collin wanted us pressed together.
Elizabeth’s breathing was shallow against my chest. I could feel every small movement she made. And God help me, it was doing things to me that were entirely inappropriate for this situation.
I wanted to run my hands down her sides, to feel those curves properly instead of this careful, posed touching. I wanted to take her somewhere private and show her exactly what she did to me. I wanted to make her shiver under my touch.
Focus. I needed to focus.
“Let’s try something different,” Collin said.
He positioned us again. I was pretty fucking certain she could feel my dick rubbing against her stomach.
Our eyes met. The sudden eye contact combined with the position sent my heart kicking against my chest.
Her pupils were dilated, her lips slightly parted. Was she feeling this too? Or was she just terrified?
We held the pose while the camera clicked away.
“Let’s take a quick break,” I said abruptly, stepping back. “Five minutes.”
I walked away before anyone could stop me. I counted to ten. Thought about my grandmother. Anything to get my libido to slow the fuck down.
“Adrian, can I show you something?”
I walked over to the table where Collin had pulled up the shots on his laptop. My stomach sank with each image.
Elizabeth looked beautiful but stiff. In every shot where I was touching her, her smile was forced, her posture wooden, her eyes slightly panicked.
The pictures wouldn’t convince anyone we loved each other.
“I know you said she’s not a professional, but we’re going to need her to relax. You don’t want these pictures going out.”
He was right. Of course he was right.
“Let’s call it for today,” I said. “We’ll reschedule.”
“You sure? We could keep trying—”
“I’m sure. This isn’t working and pushing it isn’t going to help.” I looked over at Elizabeth, who was standing awkwardly by the backdrop, looking lost.
I walked over to where she was standing.
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I know I’m doing terrible. I’m trying, but—”
“Hey, it’s fine. This isn’t your fault.” I kept my voice gentle, even though frustration was simmering under my skin. “You’ve never done this before.”
“What happens now?”
“Come back tomorrow. We’re going to do a training session. It’ll help. I promise.”
She looked doubtful but nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I can do that.”
There was a little voice in the back of my head that said it was anything but fine. But we were already in too deep. There was no turning back now.