Chapter 19
ADRIAN
The voices blurred together into an overwhelming cacophony of demands, each person talking over the others, all of them waiting for me to solve their problems. Problems I’d already addressed. Questions I’d already answered. Details I’d already approved.
They weren’t listening. They were just panicking and using me as their outlet.
I could feel my control slipping. The pressure was building behind my eyes.
A stagehand appeared at my elbow, asking about decorative vases and where should they go, should there be more, should they be moved.
I was approximately three seconds from telling him exactly where he could shove those vases.
Hell, I would eagerly shove those vases up his ass myself.
Then Elizabeth’s hand closed around my arm.
“Adrian.” Her voice cut through the noise with surprising authority. “I need you. Emergency. Right now.”
I looked at her, trying to process the sudden shift. The last thing I needed was another fucking emergency. They were killing me. I was used to the general chaos before a show. It was just part of the process.
But fuck me. They were going to drive me batshit crazy.
“Elizabeth,” I said in a low growl. “I’m a little busy right now.”
“It can’t wait.” She tugged on my arm, already pulling me away from the crowd. “Please. It’s urgent.”
Part of me knew I should stay and address all the concerns. I wanted to be the leader everyone needed me to be. But a larger part of me recognized an escape route when it appeared, and Elizabeth was offering me exactly that.
“Everyone, hold your questions,” I said, already moving. “I’ll be back in ten minutes and we’ll address everything then. Make a list. My fiancée needs me.”
Protests started immediately, but Elizabeth was already navigating us through the backstage area with surprising determination for someone who was new to this world. She wove between racks of clothing, ducked under a scaffolding pole, and headed for a door marked roof access.
“Elizabeth, where are we—”
“Trust me,” she said, pushing the door open.
We climbed the stairs. With every step, I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders. The noise from below faded, replaced by the echo of our footsteps. By the time we emerged onto the roof, I could actually think clearly again.
The night air hit me immediately, cool and refreshing after the stuffy heat of the venue.
The city spread out around us. Lights twinkled in every direction.
I could hear the sounds of traffic creating white noise.
Above us, stars struggled to compete with the light pollution, but a few determined ones shone through.
A breeze caught my hair, dried the sweat that had been gathering at my temples. I took a deep breath, then another.
“What’s the emergency?” I asked, turning to Elizabeth. “Are you okay?”
She was leaning against the roof’s edge barrier, a satisfied smile on her face. “The emergency was if you didn’t take a break, you were going to fire everyone and call the whole thing off. Or be hauled to jail for assault.”
I stared at her. “There’s no emergency?”
“The emergency is you were about to lose it.” She pushed off the barrier and moved closer. “I could see it happening. You were three seconds from saying something you’d regret.”
“I wasn’t—” I stopped, because she was absolutely right. “Okay, maybe I was close. But I can handle it.”
“I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to handle everything alone. Especially not when half those questions had already been answered and people just weren’t listening.”
The observation made me laugh despite myself, some of the remaining tension draining away. “You noticed that too?”
“It was hard to miss. The lighting guy literally asked you the same question twice in thirty seconds.” She moved to a section of the roof where it appeared someone had set up Chinese food.
“What is all this?” I asked, following her.
“Your break.” She gestured to the spread laid out on a clean section of the roof. There were paper containers of food, plastic utensils, two bottles of water and two fortune cookies. “I figured you’d need sustenance eventually. And turns out, using your name got them to deliver in half the time.”
The smell hit me and my stomach growled audibly.
“When did you last eat?” Elizabeth asked, already opening containers.
“I had coffee this morning.”
“Coffee isn’t food.” She handed me a container and chopsticks. “Eat. That’s an order.”
I took the container, some kind of chicken dish, and took a bite. The moan that escaped me was embarrassing, but God, it was delicious. Or maybe I was just starving. Either way, it tasted like the best thing I’d ever eaten.
“Good?” Elizabeth asked, amusement in her voice.
“Amazing.” I took another bite, then another, barely tasting it in my eagerness to eat. “How did you know I’d need this?”
“Because I’ve been watching you all day. You’ve been going nonstop, making sure every detail is perfect.” She opened her container of fried rice. “Someone needed to take care of you for a change.”
The simple kindness of it was so unexpected. When was the last time someone had just taken care of me? Not because I asked, not because it was their job, but just because they wanted to?
Well, not counting my mom, and that had been a while. Intentionally. I didn’t want anyone to think I needed taking care of.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “Really. This is…”
“Cheap takeout on a roof?”
“Perfect.” I set down my food and reached for her hand. “This is perfect. You’re definitely fiancée of the year.”
She laughed. “I’ll add that to my resume. Fake Fiancée of the Year has a nice ring to it.”
“The fake fiancée category is very competitive. You’re really dominating.”
“Well, I had a good fake fiancé to work with.” She squeezed my hand, then released it to grab one of the water bottles. “How are you really doing? With all this?”
I considered deflecting, giving her the easy answer about being fine and having everything under control.
That’s what I told everyone that asked. Of course, I was fine.
No one was actually expecting me to say otherwise.
Sitting here under the stars with Chinese food and Elizabeth, pretending seemed pointless.
“I’m terrified,” I admitted. “Tomorrow night is everything. If we pull this off, we prove that Blackwell Couture is in good hands. That Dad’s legacy is secure. I want to prove his final vision came to life the way he wanted.”
“And if you don’t pull it off?”
“Then I’ve failed him. Failed my brothers.
Failed everyone who believed in us.” I picked up the food again, needing something to do with my hands.
“The whole point of Fashion of Love Week was to honor Dad. Show the world that what he built survives and will continue to thrive. But putting on this event and trying to work with his notes is a lot.”
“It’s bringing up all the grief,” Elizabeth said softly.
“Yeah.” The admission felt like releasing a pressure valve.
“It’s been a year since he died, and I thought I had processed it.
I really believed I had moved forward. But being here and doing this, it’s like losing him all over again.
I keep wanting to ask him questions, run ideas by him, get his approval.
I keep looking for the guy in charge. And then I remember that’s me.
I don’t have him around. I don’t feel like I learned enough from him. I wished I had paid more attention.”
Elizabeth was quiet, giving me the space to talk. “He’d be so proud of you,” she said finally. “I never met your father, but everything I’ve heard about him and from what I’ve seen in those photos you showed me, he loved you. He’d be proud of how hard you’re working to honor his memory.”
“I want to be for my family what he was for us. That steady presence with the guidance and confidence that everything would work out.” I laughed without humor. “But I don’t feel steady. I feel like I’m barely holding it together.”
“You don’t have to be your father, Adrian. You just have to be you. And from what I’ve seen, that’s more than enough.” She bumped her shoulder against mine. “Besides, you’re not alone in this. You have your brothers, your team, and—”
“You,” I finished. “I have you.”
“You have me.” She said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Fake relationship or not, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Fake relationship. Right. Because that’s what this was supposed to be. A temporary arrangement to solve a PR problem.
Except sitting here with Elizabeth, eating cheap Chinese food on a rooftop while she told me everything would be okay, it didn’t feel fake at all. It felt like the truest friend I had in a long time.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” I said. “That might be the understatement of the century, but it’s true. Having you here and your support, it makes all of this more bearable.”
“I’m glad I’m here too.” She finished her fried rice and set the container aside.
“This whole experience has been insane and overwhelming and completely beyond anything I imagined, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I have been dreaming about this for most of my life. I still can’t believe I’m here.”
“You’re going to be incredible,” I said. “After Love Week, when you start working for us officially, you’re going to blow everyone away.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. I’ve watched you work, Elizabeth. You have the eye, the instincts, the technical skill. You just needed the opportunity.” I turned to face her more fully. “Speaking of which, did you bring your portfolio? You keep promising to show me your new designs.”
She bit her lip, a gesture I was learning meant she was nervous about something.
“After tomorrow night,” she said. “Let me show you after the opening. When you’re not stressed about a million other things and can actually focus on it.”
I wanted to argue, to insist I could focus now, but she was probably right. My brain was already juggling too many variables. I wouldn’t be able to give them the attention they deserved right then.
“Deal,” I agreed. “After tomorrow night. But I’m holding you to that.”
“I’m counting on it.”
We finished the food and just sat quietly for a few minutes. I could feel my nerves settling. From up here, all the stress and pressure and details seemed smaller, more manageable.
I felt like I could actually breathe.
“We should probably head back down,” I said reluctantly, checking my watch. We’d been gone almost forty minutes. “I told them ten minutes and it’s been… not ten minutes.”
“Let them wait. Let them solve some problems on their own for once.” But she was already standing, gathering the empty containers. “But you’re right. If we stay up here much longer, someone’s going to send a search party.”
I stood too, helping her clean up. “Thank you for this. For pulling me away when I needed it. And for the food and for listening to me spiral about my father.”
“That’s what fake fiancées are for.” She said it lightly, but something in her eyes made me think she didn’t find it as funny as she pretended.
“Right. Fake fiancée duties. Of course.” I caught her hand before she could move away. “Elizabeth—”
“We should go,” she said quickly, pulling her hand free. “You have a million people waiting for answers, and I need to help Annika with the final accessory check.”
She was running. I could see it in the way she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. The sudden urgency to leave me was yet another sign. But I didn’t know why, and I didn’t know how to ask without making things awkward.
I followed her back down the stairs and into the chaos. I stepped back into the role of Adrian Blackwell, CEO and show director.
Thanks to Elizabeth’s intervention, I actually felt capable of pulling it off.