Chapter 47
ADRIAN
Istood behind the curtain with sweaty palms and a queasy stomach. The crowd noise was deafening. Everyone in front of the curtain and behind were amped up. It was the last night, and as much as I hated to admit, all the drama Clara caused had only stirred up interest in the show.
It sounded like a hive of bees out front. Everyone was buzzing. They were all here to see the Blackwell brothers succeed or fail spectacularly.
And they wanted to see if I would address the scandal. Our PR people were freaking out. All day yesterday, late into the night and first thing this morning, there were emergency phone calls and Zoom meetings. I had pushed everyone off. I didn’t need this managed.
It was my life.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Another message from Briggs, probably asking where I was. I’d been hiding back here for the past twenty minutes, trying to work up the courage to go through with this.
“You sure about this?” Sebastian appeared out of nowhere. I saw the concern on his face. “It’s not too late to just do the standard welcome speech. Keep it safe.”
“I’m sure.” My voice came out a lot calmer than I felt.
“Adrian, if this goes wrong—if she’s not even here, or if she rejects you in front of everyone—it’s going to make it worse.
” He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely worried.
“This isn’t like a business deal you can negotiate your way out of.
This is your heart on display for a few thousand people. ”
“I know what it is.” I shook out my hands again, trying to release the nervous energy. “But I have to try. I should never have agreed to that fake fiancée plan in the first place, but I did. So now I need to clean up the mess. Do right by Elizabeth, whether she ever speaks to me again or not.”
“You’re either very brave or very stupid.”
“Probably both.” I looked out through a gap in the curtain, scanning the crowd one more time. Where was she? Annika had sworn she’d seen Elizabeth slip in, texted me ten minutes ago with absolute certainty. But I couldn’t spot her anywhere in the sea of faces.
Maybe she hadn’t come. Maybe she’d decided the contract wasn’t worth facing me. I might never see her again except across a conference table.
The thought made my chest tight with panic, but I pushed it down. This wasn’t about forcing her to listen. It was about telling the truth publicly. I had to clear her name regardless of what it meant for us.
Briggs appeared on my other side, tablet in hand as always. “The tech team has the graphics ready. They’ll follow your cues. You’re sure you want to do this sequence? Once those screens light up, there’s no taking it back.”
“I’m sure.”
“And you’ve thought about the implications? If she’s not receptive, if she walks out, the press will have a field day. It could overshadow everything we’ve built this week.”
“Let them.” I met his eyes. “Dad used to say there were things more important than good press. Things worth risking everything for. I think he would understand.”
Briggs nodded. “He would. He’d probably call you an idiot for waiting this long, but he’d understand.” He glanced at his tablet. “You’ve got three minutes. Dash is doing final checks on the runway.”
He disappeared, leaving me with Sebastian again.
“Do you remember what you’re going to say?” Sebastian asked. “You’ve been rehearsing it for twenty-four hours, but you look like you might forget your own name right now.”
“I remember.” The words were burned into my brain, revised a hundred times, edited and perfected until Annika had finally told me to stop overthinking it. “I just—what if she doesn’t want to hear it? What if I’m too late? I don’t even know if she’s here. I could be doing all of this for nothing.”
“Then at least you tried.” Sebastian’s voice was unusually serious. “Look, I’m the last person who should be giving relationship advice. My longest commitment is to my gym membership. But, Adrian, I’ve watched you this past week. You’ve been miserable without her.”
“It’s only been a day.”
“And I bet it feels like a year.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong.” I checked my watch. Two minutes. “How do I look?”
“Like a man about to get publicly humiliated.” Sebastian adjusted my collar even though it was already perfect. “For what it’s worth, I think she loves you too. The way she looks at you—nobody fakes that.”
“She’s a good actress. We paid her to be.”
“Adrian, stop. You know it was real. You both just got scared and ran in opposite directions when things got complicated.” He gripped my shoulder. “Now you’re doing the brave thing. You’re running toward her instead of away.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that Elizabeth had felt even a fraction of what I’d felt during those stolen moments in every city where I’d watched her transform from nervous to confident to extraordinary.
“One minute,” Briggs called out from somewhere in the chaos backstage.
My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. This was it. In sixty seconds, I’d walk out on that stage and either save everything or destroy what little was left.
“You’ve got this,” Sebastian said.
“Do I? Because I feel like I’m about to throw up.”
“That’s just love. It’s supposed to feel like food poisoning mixed with a heart attack.” He grinned. “Or so I’m told. I wouldn’t know personally.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you’re a romantic. Who knew?” He gave me a gentle shove toward the stage entrance. “Now get out there and win her back before I have to watch you mope around for the next decade.”
The music swelled. The crowd’s energy shifted. I could hear Dash’s voice over the sound system, warming them up with his usual charm and charisma, getting them ready for the finale.
“Thirty seconds,” Briggs said.
I took a deep breath, then another.
“She’s lucky,” Sebastian said. “Any woman would be lucky to have you go to war for her like this.”
“Or she’ll think I’m insane and run for the hills.”
“There’s that possibility too.” He laughed, but there was genuine affection in it. “Either way, at least you’ll know.”
I heard the music shift once again.
“Shit.” I wiped my palms on my pants. “This is really happening.”
“You’ve got this.” Sebastian squeezed my shoulder once more. “Good luck, brother.”
He disappeared backstage.
How do you tell someone you love them in front of thousands of people? How do you make it real and genuine instead of performative? I’d spent my entire adult life performing. But this needed to be different. This needed to be true.
And given the situation, I needed it to be somewhat public. It was the only way to quiet the rumors.
Dash appeared briefly, gave me a thumbs-up, and mouthed “you’ve got this” before vanishing again.
I looked out through the gap in the curtain one more time. Still couldn’t see her. But Annika was never wrong about these things. If she said Elizabeth was here, then she was here.
Somewhere in that crowd, the woman I loved was watching. Waiting.
The lights dimmed. The crowd settled into expectant silence. Tonight felt different. Final. Like everything was building to this moment.
This was it.
I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders, and tried to calm my racing heart. The curtain began to rise.
I stepped forward into the blinding stage lights with the wall of sound from the audience. Applause and cheers from the people ready for a show.
For a second, the lights were so bright I couldn’t see anything. Just heard the noise and felt the heat of the spotlights.
Then my eyes adjusted, and I could see them. Faces locked on me. They were all waiting for the Blackwell brothers to deliver one final spectacular show.
I was about to give them something else entirely.
“Welcome!” My voice boomed through the sound system. “Thank you all for being here tonight, for joining us on this incredible journey through Fashion of Love Week.”
More applause. I waited for it to die down, acutely aware of how nervous I was, which was unusual for me. I had addressed countless crowds and handled countless high-pressure situations. But this was different. This mattered in a way business never had.
“We’re here to celebrate my father’s life and his legacy,” I continued.
“Buck Blackwell built this company into the fashion empire it is today. Anyone that has ever worn a Blackwell design knows the quality we put into every item. You look and you feel good when you’re wearing one of our designs.
This week was his final vision, his last gift to us. And we hope we’ve done him proud.”
I paused, gathering courage for what came next. This was the moment. The point of no return.
“Before we begin tonight’s show, I want to address something. This week has been incredible in so many ways—four cities, five shows, each one a success beyond what we imagined. But there’s been one consistent highlight across all of them, and I’d love to show you some of the feedback we received.”
I signaled to the tech booth. The giant screens flanking the runway lit up with images of Elizabeth’s three dresses from Milan. Then headlines began flashing across the screens:
“Bold New Direction for Blackwell”
“The Three Dresses Everyone’s Talking About”
“Fresh Vision Breathes New Life into Classic House”
The crowd was engaged now, leaning forward, clearly recognizing the pieces that had generated so much discussion.
“I think you can all agree these designs represent something special. Something fresh and exciting and exactly the kind of innovation Blackwell Couture needs going forward.”
Enthusiastic applause. People nodding. They were with me so far.
“Those dresses were designed by Elizabeth Laramie.”
I signaled again, and her logo appeared on the screens. It was the heart-shaped EL we’d designed together in Milan. Then her photo, the one from our first press conference, where she looked beautiful and terrified and brave all at once. The screen changed to a photo of her walking down the runway.
The crowd murmured. Surprised. Confused. I could see people turning to their neighbors, whispering.
“I know there’s been a lot of speculation this week,” I continued.
“A lot of questions about Elizabeth’s talent, her motives, and her relationship with me.
Some people have suggested she was trying to sleep her way to success.
I’ve seen the headlines that she’s a gold-digger.
Rumors that our engagement was just a scheme she cooked up to advance her career. ”
The murmuring grew louder. I pushed on. I was calling them out for their nonsense. I knew every person in the room had seen and contributed to the gossip. People loved to tear others down.
“But here’s the truth. Those same people who’ve been trashing her online have already been impressed by her work.
Those dresses you all loved? That’s Elizabeth.
That’s her vision, her talent, her voice.
People loved her designs without realizing who created them.
I hope you all see, we’re the lucky ones to have her.
She doesn’t need us. She’s going to be the next big talent in fashion.
Ten years from now, we’re all going to be clamoring to get front row at one of her shows. ”
I took a breath, feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.
“Not only did I beg her to be my fiancée,” I said, “I begged her to come work for us. Because I love her work. Because I recognize talent.”
Another pause. The longest one of my life.
“And I love her.”
The words hung in the air. It felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath. Or maybe that was just me.
“Before we get on with tonight’s show, I needed to let the world know that,” I finished.
“Elizabeth Laramie is extraordinarily talented. She deserves recognition, respect, and every opportunity this industry can offer. Regardless of what happens between us personally, I wanted to make sure everyone understood that. And I would take it as a personal favor if you could all stop the rumors. If you hear something, tell them you heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. ”
For a moment, there was silence. Complete, deafening silence.
Then someone started clapping. Then more people joined in. Then the entire venue was on its feet, applause washing over me like a wave.
I stood there, feeling naked and exposed and terrified. The big announcement had been made and people seemed to be responding in the way I had hoped. They sounded supportive, not disbelieving.
The applause continued. People were cheering.
Some looked a little choked up. This crowd understood grand romantic gestures.
And judging by the response, there were a few romantics in the crowd.
I didn’t know if it was enough to get Elizabeth back, but I knew without a doubt it had shifted the story.
The truth about her design talent was out there.
I was about to signal for the show to begin and let everyone process what I just said, when a voice rang out from somewhere in the crowd. “She’s here!”
My heart stopped.
I scanned the audience, trying to find the source of the voice, trying to find her.
“Elizabeth’s here!” the voice called again. It sounded like Annika, though I couldn’t see her. “She’s right here!”
The crowd began looking around, murmuring, searching. Spotlights swiveled, trying to illuminate the audience.
And then I saw her.