Chapter 18
ELIZABETH
With less than a day until opening night, I walked into the venue with Adrian and was in awe.
It was still a construction zone but I could see the end game.
It was so exciting to be a part of the process.
To get to see how it all came together. Everyone was busting their asses to get everything just right.
The runway stretched down the center of the space, elevated and polished to a mirror shine.
Enormous screens flanked either side, currently displaying the Blackwell logo in slow rotation.
The lighting rig overhead looked like something from a stadium concert, capable of creating any mood and atmosphere.
Backstage was controlled chaos. Racks of gowns lined the walls, each one protected by a garment bag and labeled with the model’s name.
Makeup stations had been set up in rows, each one equipped with professional lighting and enough products to stock a Sephora.
Hair stations occupied another section. And everywhere—absolutely everywhere—people were moving around setting up, testing, and preparing.
I stood off to the side, trying to stay out of the way while simultaneously trying to take in every single detail. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get the chance to be a part of something like this again. I wanted to remember every detail.
In twenty-four hours, the space would be filled with fashion industry elite, celebrities, and press from around the world. And I would be here because of Adrian.
I looked down at the ring on my finger, watching the diamond catch the lights. The stones were real. Adrian had made sure of that. But what they symbolized wasn’t. This beautiful ring represented a business arrangement. A temporary solution to a problem.
It was a shame, really. Because somewhere between the disastrous first photoshoot and waking up in his arms, I had stopped pretending.
My feelings for Adrian were very, very real.
And that was dangerous. He needed me for the event. Nothing more. I needed to remind myself I wasn’t actually his girlfriend or fiancée. But if he kept his promise, I would be his employee. I didn’t want to be the chick sleeping with the boss.
“Elizabeth!” Annika waved me over to where she was organizing the costume changes. “Come help me make sure we have the right accessories for each look. I need your eye.”
I hurried over, grateful for something to do besides stand around feeling overwhelmed. Annika had jewelry laid out for each dress—necklaces, earrings, bracelets, all carefully selected to complement without overwhelming.
“This piece here,” I said, picking up a delicate gold cuff. “I think it would work better with dress seven than dress twelve. The neckline on twelve is already busy.”
Annika considered it, then nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Make the switch.”
As I reorganized the accessories, I kept stealing glances at the main floor. Adrian stood in the center of everything, iPad in hand, directing the controlled chaos with the calm authority of a general commanding troops.
He was wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt—casual by his standards—but somehow he still looked like he owned the place.
Which, I supposed, he kind of did. I liked him better in casual wear.
He rocked the suits, but the T-shirt showed off those flat abs and nice biceps.
And his chest. Damn, the man had a chest I could spend the next decade exploring.
“Lighting team, that’s too harsh,” he called out. “Soften it by twenty percent. We want romantic, not interrogation.”
The lights adjusted immediately.
“Sound check in five minutes,” he announced. “I want to hear every cue, every transition. No surprises tomorrow.”
What fascinated me was how calm he seemed. Yesterday in the workshop, he’d been tense, checking and rechecking every detail. But now, with less than a day until showtime, he was steady. Focused. In his element.
Like he got better the more intense things became.
I watched him consult with the stage manager, point out something on his iPad, then nod in satisfaction when the adjustment was made.
He squatted down to examine the runway surface, running his hand across it to check for imperfections.
And yes, I marveled at the muscles across his back.
I could honestly stand in the corner and just watch him all day.
I started picturing him in different outfits. Gray sweatpants. Shirtless, of course.
God, I was falling for him. Had fallen, probably. Past tense. Done deal.
That was a problem for future Elizabeth to deal with. Right then, I just let myself enjoy watching him work.
The place was coming together beautifully.
Workers were bringing in enormous flower arrangements that would flank the runway.
Abstract sculptures were being positioned at strategic points, modern art pieces that complemented the Legacy theme without overwhelming it.
The Blackwell aesthetic was everywhere—elegant, timeless, with just enough edge to feel contemporary.
“Where are Sebastian, Briggs, and Dash?” I asked Annika.
“Already at their cities. Sebastian left for London this morning, Briggs flew to Paris yesterday, and Dash went to Milan.” She handed me another set of earrings. “Adrian’s handling New York solo. Well, with the team, but you know what I mean. The brothers each take point on their own shows.”
That explained the extra tension I’d sensed in him last night. He was carrying it alone. That was a lot of pressure.
A commotion near the runway entrance caught my attention. A camera crew was setting up. I realized with a jolt that these were for the livestream. This show was going global. Anyone, anywhere in the world with an internet connection could watch in real time.
The thought made my stomach flip. Any mistake, any wardrobe malfunction, any stumble would be seen by potentially millions of people. There would be no editing anything out.
“Okay people, let’s run through the show order!” Adrian’s voice carried across the space. “Models, get in your starting positions. We’re doing a full run-through—entrances, walks, exits, and quick changes. This is your chance to work out any kinks.”
The models began lining up backstage, each one checking their position on the call sheet. I moved to where I could watch without being in the way, my heart racing with vicarious excitement. I couldn’t believe I was actually getting the chance to watch it from this view.
The music started. It was classical and dramatic, building slowly.
The first model emerged onto the runway, walking with that distinctive model stride I’d tried and failed to master during training.
The screens came alive, showing details of the dress, the inspiration piece, information about the materials.
Buck’s voice could be heard talking about his inspiration.
My eyes immediately went to Adrian. I knew it was his doing, but how hard would it be to listen to your late father talking?
He was watching the scene with a blank expression. Maybe he had heard it so much he was immune to the voice.
The whole thing was breathtaking.
Model after model came out, each one more stunning than the last. The dresses moved beautifully, catching the light exactly as they should. The timing was perfect. The music swelled and faded at all the right moments.
Then, just as everything seemed to be going smoothly, I heard raised voices from the lineup.
Two models near the middle of the pack were arguing, their voices getting louder.
“I’m going first!”
“No, you always go first. It’s my turn!”
I glanced around, but the stage manager was dealing with a lighting issue, Annika was backstage, and Adrian was at the tech booth going over something with the video team. No one else seemed to have noticed yet.
Without thinking, I moved toward the arguing models.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice friendly. “What’s going on?”
Up close, I realized they looked almost identical. Sisters, obviously. Maybe even twins.
“She thinks she should go out before me,” one of them said, crossing her arms. “But I’m the better walker.”
“That’s not fair! You went first at the last show we did together.”
“Because I’m older!”
“By two minutes!”
Ah. Twin sisters. Of course.
“Okay, wait,” I said, holding up my hands. “You’re twins?”
“Obviously,” they said in unison, then glared at each other.
“And you’re arguing about who should go first?” I looked between them. “Who’s older? Like, actually born first?”
The one on the left raised her hand slightly. “Me. But just barely.”
“Right. So you came out first already. At birth.” I gestured to her sister. “Which means now it’s her turn to go first. Fair’s fair.”
Both of them stopped, considering this logic. Then the older one’s expression softened.
“I guess that makes sense,” she said grudgingly.
“Fine,” her sister agreed. “But next show, I go first.”
“Deal.”
Crisis averted, they took their positions in the corrected order. I backed away before anyone could ask me what authority I had to be making those calls.
The run-through continued smoothly after that, and soon models were streaming backstage for the quick-change test. That went well. It was hectic but that was just how it went. Everyone knew their roles which helped.
But the moment the run-through finished, everything devolved. Suddenly Adrian was surrounded by people, all talking at once, all demanding his immediate attention.
“The screen resolution on the left side is slightly off.”
“We need approval on the final seating chart.”
“The flowers won’t arrive until noon tomorrow, is that going to be a problem?”
“Should we have backup dresses in case of emergencies?”
I watched Adrian’s jaw tighten, saw his shoulders tense. He was trying to address everyone at once, but they kept interrupting each other, talking over him, pulling him in seventeen different directions.
He was about three seconds from losing it. I could see it in the way his fingers gripped his iPad, in the muscle twitching in his jaw. These people were all doing their jobs, all trying to make sure tomorrow went perfectly. But they were also overwhelming him, and nobody seemed to realize it.
Well. Nobody except me.
I knew he could handle the chaos. He’d been doing it all day, but I couldn’t just stand there and watch him be accosted. They were acting like he wasn’t a human being. It was rude. Thoughtless.
I stood back and waited, expecting him to whistle and scream.
But he didn’t. He stood there, doing his best to answer questions.
And getting more flustered by the second.
I had to do something. And I knew exactly what to do.
I was going to surprise him.