Chapter 25
ADRIAN
Seven hours on a plane, even a private one, should have felt tedious, restrictive. It should have felt endless. Instead, it passed in what felt like minutes.
Elizabeth had fallen asleep with her head in my lap sometime after dinner, and I’d spent the entire flight working on my laptop one-handed because moving the other hand—the one resting in her hair—felt impossible.
I told myself I was just being considerate. She needed rest and waking her would be rude. But the truth was simpler and more complicated: I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to disturb this moment of peace. I liked that Elizabeth trusted me enough to be vulnerable in sleep.
My hand had stayed in her hair, fingers occasionally moving through the silky strands, and I’d felt something unfamiliar settle in my chest. Something warm and terrifying and absolutely not part of our business arrangement.
Contentment, maybe. Or something deeper.
The plane began its descent into London. If there was a way to tell the pilot to keep flying, I would have done it. But that wasn’t an option. I had to wake her.
“Elizabeth,” I said softly, my hand moving to her shoulder. “We’re landing.”
She stirred, blinking up at me with sleepy confusion that was unbearably cute. “Already?”
“Already.” I helped her sit up as the pilot requested us to buckle up. “You slept the whole way.”
“I’m sorry. You could have moved me.”
“I didn’t want to.” The words came out before I could stop them.
She offered a small smile and smoothed her hair down. “Did you work the whole time?”
I nodded.
She sighed. “Adrian, you should have tried to sleep. It’s what time? I’m so confused. Did you basically stay up all night?”
“No.”
“It’s too much math. What time is it?”
I looked at my watch that I had already set to London time. “Almost seven.”
“You did stay up all night!”
“Technically, it’s still night back home,” I countered.
She laughed and shook her head.
We deplaned into gray morning light. Typical London weather, overcast but not raining. Yet. Despite getting only a few hours of sleep during the flight, she looked refreshed and excited.
“I can’t believe I’m in London,” she said, eyes wide as she took in the private terminal. “I’ve never been out of the country before.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious. I’d been to London more times than I could count. It was just another city to me, another stop on the endless circuit of fashion weeks and industry events.
But watching Elizabeth experience it for the first time made it feel new again.
“We don’t have much time for sightseeing,” I warned as we walked toward the exit where our car waited. “The show’s tonight, and Sebastian will need help with final prep.”
“That’s okay. Just being here is an adventure.” She looped her arm through mine as we walked, the gesture so natural she probably didn’t even think about it.
I didn’t pull away. It felt too good walking together like an actual couple instead of two people playing roles.
I had to remind myself this was fake. Temporary. Soon after Fashion of Love Week, Elizabeth would no longer be my fiancée. She’d be an employee. Someone I saw at the office and treated with professional courtesy.
The thought made something dark and heavy settle in my chest. Despair, dread, a hint of sadness. I was grieving a relationship that never was before it even ended.
I hated that I felt anything at all. This was supposed to be a business arrangement. Choosing Elizabeth was supposed to simplify things. Keep everything neat and contained.
Instead, she’d complicated everything. Made me feel things I’d successfully avoided feeling for years. Made me want things I had no business wanting.
The three of us piled into the car. I took a moment to close my eyes. No one spoke. I knew Elizabeth was probably trying to take in as much of the city as she could and Mom was busy on her phone.
The hotel was five-star luxury in Mayfair, the kind of place where discretion was as important as the thread count. We checked in under the protection of the manager himself, who ushered us to a private elevator that led directly to our suite while Mom was escorted to a junior suite.
“Oh my God,” Elizabeth breathed when we entered.
The suite was massive, with a living room, bedroom, bathroom with a tub big enough for two, and a small private balcony overlooking the London streets. But what caught Elizabeth’s attention was the spread waiting for us.
A full English breakfast covered the dining table. Scones with clotted cream and jam. Bacon, eggs, and sausages.
“Bangers,” I said, pointing at the sausages.
Elizabeth started giggling. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a real term, but bangers? They call sausages bangers?”
“And mash when you serve them with mashed potatoes. Bangers and mash.”
She was laughing now. And despite my exhaustion and the nerves about tonight’s show, I found myself chuckling too.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said.
“You like it,” she countered, still grinning.
Yeah. I did.
We ate breakfast while I pulled out my phone to show her the continued media coverage.
“Look at this,” I said, scrolling through articles. “Everyone’s still talking about Friday night. Your appearance was the highlight for most reviewers.”
“That’s generous of them.”
“It’s accurate.” I found a particularly glowing review and read aloud.
“Elizabeth Laramie’s surprise walk showcased Blackwell’s ability to blend personal and professional seamlessly.
Her curves brought new life to a design originally shown on a traditional model body, proving that Blackwell Couture’s vision is more inclusive than critics have claimed. ”
“Wow,” Elizabeth said softly.
“You’re a huge hit. Social media can’t stop talking about you. There are memes, Elizabeth. Good ones.” I showed her my favorite, a split screen of her looking nervous backstage and then confident on the runway, captioned: “When you realize you’re America’s sweetheart.”
She laughed, but I could see the emotion in her eyes. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“It’s real. You’re part of this now. A big part. Thank you for being such a big part of New York. For saving the show and making it something people will remember.”
“You’re welcome. Though I think you’re giving me too much credit. It was your vision, your father’s dream. I just showed up.”
“You did more than show up.” I reached over and pulled her hand. She came willingly, settling into my lap. “You made it better.”
I kissed her, doing my best to show her just how much I appreciated her.
She shifted her weight. “I’m squishing you.”
“Not even a little.”
She moved back to her seat. “So, what’s on the agenda for the day?”
“The London show starts at eight,” I said. “Sebastian’s hosting, so I’ll be helping behind the scenes but not running point like New York. We should actually be able to enjoy ourselves.”
“That sounds nice.” Elizabeth tilted her head to look at me. “What’s Sebastian’s theme again?”
“Decadence. Which knowing Sebastian means it’s going to be over the top, possibly scandalous, and absolutely entertaining.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Speaking of being able to enjoy ourselves…”
She licked her lips. “Yes?”
“We have a few hours before we need to be at the venue.”
“We do.”
“And we’re in this beautiful hotel room.”
“We are.”
“And I’ve been thinking about last night.”
“Technically, I think it would be the night before,” she said.
“Same thing.”
“Can I take a quick shower?” she murmured. “I know I haven’t done anything except sit, but I feel like my morning isn’t quite right if I don’t shower.”
“Sure, we can shower.”
She caught the we and hopped up. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”
She streaked across the suite and into the bathroom.
I followed at a more leisurely pace, stripping off my shirt as I walked. By the time I reached the bathroom, Elizabeth was already in the shower, her silhouette visible through the glass. The sight made me pause, appreciating the curves of her body, the way water cascaded down her skin.
“You’re staring,” she called out, somehow sensing my presence despite the glass between us.
“Can’t help it.” I shed the rest of my clothes and opened the shower door. “You’re beautiful.”
She turned to face me, water streaming down her face, her hair plastered to her head. She looked like every fantasy I ever had come to life.
“Get in here before you let all the hot steam out,” she said, reaching for me.
I stepped in, immediately pulling her against me. The shower was one of those luxury rain showers with multiple heads. It had plenty of space but I didn’t want any distance between us.
“You know,” I murmured against her ear. “I’ve taken a lot of showers in a lot of hotels.”
“Is that so?” Her hands slid up my chest.
“None of them were this interesting.”
“We’re literally just standing here.”
“Give me a minute.” I reached for the shower gel and poured some into my hands. “Let me wash your back.”
“That’s very gentlemanly of you.”
“I’m a gentleman.” I turned her around, starting to work the soap across her shoulders. “A very helpful gentleman.”
“Mm-hmm.” She leaned into my touch. “This is nice.”
My hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist. “Just nice?”
“Very nice.” Her voice had gone breathy.
I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck, working my way up to that sensitive spot behind her ear that I’d discovered made her gasp. Right on cue, she inhaled sharply.
“Adrian.”
“Shh. I’m being helpful. Very, very helpful.”
My hands slid around to her stomach, then higher, cupping her breasts. She arched into my touch with a moan that went straight to my cock.
“This doesn’t feel like washing,” she managed.
“No?” I teased her nipples, feeling them harden under my fingers. “My mistake.”
She spun in my arms, water streaming between us, her eyes dark with want. “You’re terrible.”
“You like it.”
“I really do.” She grabbed my face and kissed me.
The playfulness shifted into something more urgent. My hands found her ass, lifting her. Her legs wrapped around my waist instinctively, and suddenly we were pressed against the tile wall, water streaming down around us.
Later, we lay tangled in sheets with her wet hair dampening the pillow. Both of us were satisfied and drowsy.
“We should probably get up soon,” she murmured, but made no move to actually do so.
“Probably,” I agreed, also not moving.
She let out a content sigh. I was already thinking of excuses to skip the show so I could stay exactly where I was.
“Hey, you promised to show me your new sketches. On the plane, remember?”
“Oh. Right.” She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. “They’re in my bag.”
“Get them,” I said. “I want to see what you’ve been working on.”
She didn’t immediately move. “Elizabeth, I’ve seen what you can do. Let me see.”
She sighed. “Okay.”