Chapter 30
ELIZABETH
Adrian stood beside me in the manor’s grand ballroom, his hand resting in the small of my back. It was a gesture that looked possessive and intimate from the outside but it was more like a pose. He was keeping the appropriate distance while maintaining appearances.
I had only myself to blame for the current ice out. It was my fault. Just like a wounded animal, I snapped at the man that tried to be nice. My careless words about jealousy and pretending were a little harsh. But to be fair, he had done it first.
What started out as a beautiful day had quickly soured. I couldn’t wait to be done with the whole thing. I wanted to go back to the hotel.
“Elizabeth, this is Marcus Wellington, editor of British Vogue.” Adrian’s voice was professional. The voice he used for networking. “Marcus, my fiancée, Elizabeth Laramie.”
“The woman of the hour!” Marcus air-kissed both my cheeks in that European way I was still getting used to. “Darling, your surprise appearance in New York was inspired. Pure genius. Tell me, will you be walking tonight as well?”
“Oh, no.” I felt my cheeks heat. “That was a one-time emergency. I’m not actually a model.”
“You could be,” a woman in a stunning black gown interjected, joining our circle. “Those curves, that face—you photograph beautifully. Very Sophia Loren, very classic.”
“Thank you, but modeling really isn’t my thing.
” I took a sip of champagne, wishing it would make this easier.
It was a fine line between drinking enough champagne to loosen up and so much that I made a fool of myself.
And Adrian. That would cost me my job for sure.
“In New York, one of the models got sick and I had to fill in. I was terrified the entire time.”
“You couldn’t tell,” Adrian said. There was a quality in his tone that made me look up.
He was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
He looked proud. His hand slid up and down my back a few times.
“Elizabeth saved the day. One of the models smelled a carb and her body went into shock. Elizabeth jumped in without hesitation.”
Several people laughed at his joke. I found myself smiling as well, even if I actually liked most of the models. They were sweet and I actually felt bad that so many of them were treated like they were airheads that survived on celery juice. I admired their commitment to their diets.
I could never do it.
“She’s my hero,” Adrian continued. His arm slid around my waist and he tugged me against him. “She made a good show great.”
The praise should have made me happy. I wanted to be proud because I’d pleased him. Instead, it killed me.
Because he sounded so real.
And I knew it was just excellent acting. The performance we’d both signed up for. Adrian Blackwell was playing the role of devoted fiancé, and doing it so well that even I, who knew the truth, wanted to believe it.
And yes, it made me wonder about everything he said and did when it was just the two of us. It made me second-guess what he said about my designs. We had blurred the lines so badly I couldn’t decipher real and fake.
“You two are absolutely adorable together,” Marcus said. “The chemistry is palpable. America’s sweethearts indeed. Excuse me, I see someone I need to speak with.”
He drifted away, and others quickly filled his space. More editors, more designers, more people who wanted to congratulate Adrian and me on our engagement and the success of his last show.
And through it all, Adrian stayed at my side. He kept his hand on me but he maintained that careful distance that felt like miles even though he was right there next to me.
If I admitted I fell for him, what would happen? What if I told him every touch and moment together had become achingly real for me? That the thought of this ending in a week made me want to cry.
He’d think I was crazy. We’d known each other for less than two weeks. You couldn’t fall in love in two weeks. It was impossible, illogical. Real love took time.
Except I had. My dumbass had fallen in love with Adrian Blackwell. Getting physical had complicated everything. It muddied waters that were supposed to stay clear. If we’d kept things purely professional and hadn’t crossed that line, I wouldn’t be feeling like my chest had been hollowed out.
But we had. And now I had to survive the next few days with my heart breaking a little more each time he touched me out of obligation rather than desire.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Adrian murmured, his mouth close to my ear so only I could hear. “Everything okay?”
“Just taking it all in.” I gestured to the ballroom, the guests in their finery, the sheer opulence of it all. “This is incredible. Sebastian really outdid himself.”
“He did.” Adrian’s hand moved slightly, his thumb tracing a small circle against my back through the fabric of my dress. The gesture felt unconscious. I had to resist the urge to lean into him.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked in a husky voice.
I almost groaned. I loved that tone. I had to fight the urge to rub myself up against him.
“I’m good.” I smiled.
“The show starts soon. We should—”
“Mr. Blackwell!” A production assistant appeared at his elbow. “We need you backstage. Sebastian has a question about the opening sequence.”
“I’ll be right there.” He didn’t move immediately. “Will you be okay out here?”
I watched him look around like he was expecting someone to pounce. Given the situation, it was very possible. The people roaming around did have a very predatory vibe. Sebastian wasn’t joking when he said he expected everyone to get laid tonight.
“I’ll be fine. Go. Sebastian needs you.”
He hesitated another second, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple. The gesture was so tender that I had to close my eyes against the sting of tears.
“I’ll find you,” he said, and then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd.
I stood there holding my champagne, surrounded by beautiful people in a beautiful place, and felt utterly alone.
This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to break into the fashion industry, to see behind the curtain and prove I had what it took to make it in this world.
And I was getting all of that. The opportunity of a lifetime while making connections I never could have made on my own. And more importantly, I had a job waiting for me after Love Week ended.
All I had to do was survive these last few days with my heart intact.
Easy.
The lights dimmed, signaling the show was about to begin.
I found a spot near the side where I could watch without being in the way, champagne glass still in hand.
I sipped, reminding myself it was my second glass.
I could have one more and still be okay.
When the waiter came around, I snatched one.
Then a tray of appetizers came near and I took what was offered. That’s when I realized I just took caviar. I’d never had caviar. But when in London, why not?
The first bite was weird in a good way. Salty. Poppy. I had no idea. But damn, it was really good. I waited for the show to start because it seemed like they were stalling with the lights down and music with a strong bass playing. It was all very sensual.
When the caviar came by again, I took another one.
And then the music was turned down. The room fell silent.
Sebastian appeared on the runway, not at a podium like Adrian had been in New York, but walking down the center, champagne glass of his own raised high.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Decadence!”
Music filled the room. Smoky. Low. Swampy. And damn, I didn’t know if it was the champagne or just my body demanding I move to the music, but I did. A slow swaying motion like I was standing on a boat rocking over gentle waves.
And it wasn’t just me. Everyone was feeling it.
The runway lights shifted to deep reds and purples, creating an atmosphere that was equal parts sexy and dangerous.
Then the first model appeared. I’d seen the dresses during prep but seeing the models moving down the runway with the lighting and music and atmosphere?
Holy shit.
It was sexy without being vulgar, bold without being obvious.
Dress after dress came out, each one more daring than the last. This wasn’t the elegant restraint of Adrian’s Legacy collection. This was excess, indulgence, the pure pleasure of fashion taken to its extreme.
I loved the boldness of it. Loved Sebastian’s complete commitment to his vision and his willingness to push boundaries. He didn’t care what the critics thought.
It made me want to be braver. To design pieces that made people gasp instead of nod approvingly. I needed to focus on that.
Not on my fake engagement and its rapidly approaching expiration date.
A flash of silver caught my attention—the model in the sheer dress from earlier, the one Annika had been working on. On the runway, under the lights, it was breathtaking. Moving like water, just as Annika had said.
The model turned at the end of the runway. That was when I recognized her.
Clara Moreau.
Adrian’s ex.
She was stunning, obviously, with that otherworldly beauty that models possessed. The dress looked incredible on her, and she knew exactly how to work it, how to make every movement count.
I told myself I wasn’t jealous. Told myself it didn’t matter that she’d slept with Adrian and had history with him. I hated that she probably knew his body better than I did. How long had they dated?
When Adrian told me Clara was at the show, it didn’t fully register. Obviously, I knew who she was. I was pretty sure there wasn’t a single person in the world who didn’t know who she was. It just didn’t click until that very moment.
The woman would look gorgeous in a paper bag. How did one person have so much sex appeal? Even without the lighting and the music, she would be sensual. She was sex on a stick.
There was no way I could compete with a woman like that. Yes, I was his fake fiancée, but once it was all said and done, there was nothing stopping him from returning to the pool of models all waiting to crawl into his bed.
I didn’t get to be jealous. I didn’t get to wonder who he was having sex with. We were just pretending. I could have sex with anyone I wanted to as well. I almost snorted because my options were significantly less than what Adrian would be working with.
Clara strutted down that runway. My eyes drifted over the crowd that appeared to be under a spell as they tracked her movement. Men and women alike were mesmerized by her beauty.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he ever compared us in his head and found me lacking.
Stop it, I told myself firmly. This is not helpful.
The show continued, each look more daring than the last, and I forced myself to focus on the designs. I was here to learn and grow. I had to keep learning to become the designer I was meant to be.
I couldn’t let love and feeling distract me.