4. Four
Four
Lacey
I pride myself on being a professional. Years of auditions, countless hours on set, endless press junkets—I know how to handle pressure. But nothing in my career has prepared me for this surreal PR strategy meeting.
Rachel’s private suite at the Plaza is a whirlwind of activity. She and my lawyer huddle around a sleek conference table, laptops open and phones buzzing. Across from them sits a live laptop stream of Emily Ryder, Wild’s manager, who has taken everything in stride with sharp efficiency.
And in the middle of it all, Nate and I sit side by side. He’s no longer in a towel, but we’re both feeling just as exposed.
I glance helplessly at Rachel, who has managed some of the biggest names in Hollywood. She’s handled scandals, negotiated contracts, and navigated PR nightmares with the precision of a battlefield general. But right now? Right now, she’s looking at me like I’m an absolute idiot.
“You’re hesitating,” she says flatly, arms crossed as she leans against the marble countertop of the suite’s kitchenette. “Why?”
I rub my temples, willing away the headache pressing behind my eyes. “Because it’s insane?”
“Insane is letting the media run wild with speculation,” Rachel counters smoothly. “Or worse, letting the company decide what to do about this mess. Do you want to wake up tomorrow and find out they’ve fired you from the project because you’re suddenly ‘too controversial’ for a family film?”
I flinch, but I don’t look away. She’s not wrong. Across the room, Nate is silent, his arms folded over his chest as he listens. He hasn’t said much since this meeting began.
“You still think we can spin this some other way?” Rachel asks, her tone deceptively patient.
I do. I want to. But I know the truth: a public denial won’t kill the rumors. It will only make people more interested. The scandal will negate my contract with the company and hurt my career.
And Nate? His entire deal with Family First is built on his private, no-drama image. He’s not some reckless rockstar who thrives on bad press. This could cost him just as much as it could cost me.
I close my eyes for a second, inhale deeply, and then exhale. “What exactly is the plan?”
Rachel’s lips curve slightly as if she knew I’d come around. “First, the story needs to be airtight,” Rachel announces, commanding the room’s attention. “We’re selling a fairytale romance here, people. Six months of secret dating, leading to a private proposal last week.”
“Why secret?” Emily interjects her blue eyes shrewd. “If we’re going for authenticity—“
“Because,” Rachel cuts in smoothly, “it explains why there’s been no public hint of their relationship. Plus, the ‘hidden love’ angle plays better with the press. Private people finding love away from the spotlight? It’s perfect.”
I steal a glance at Nate. He’s the picture of calm, but I notice his fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern against his thigh—keeping time to some internal beat, maybe, or just nervous energy.
“The contract needs to be thorough,” my lawyer, Steven, pipes up. “Duration of the engagement, public appearance requirements, social media protocols—“
“And a solid NDA,” Emily adds. “For both parties.”
“Wait,” Nate speaks for the first time since the meeting began. “Exactly how long are we talking about here?”
Rachel’s perfectly painted lips curve into a calculating smile. “Six months minimum. Six months of engagement, then an amicable split citing career demands and mutual respect.”
“Six months?” The word escapes me before I can stop it.
“Minimum,” Rachel emphasizes. “Depending on public reception and career trajectories, we might extend—“
“You want us to pretend we’re engaged for half a year?” Nate’s drummer’s rhythm falters.
“Of course.” Rachel looks at us like we’re particularly slow students. “And the engagement needs to be convincing.”
My head spins. This morning, I woke up single, focused on my career and my upcoming film. Now, I’m facing a six-month fake engagement to a man I met barely eight hours ago in a towel. I steal a glance at Nate. His expression is unreadable, but there’s tension in his shoulders as if he’s weighing the options and waiting for me to decide.
“The NDA will be ironclad,” Steven assures us, already typing. “All privacy protected, and a clean split guaranteed.”
“And the benefits are substantial,” Rachel chimes in. “Lacey, your film’s tracking numbers will soar with this story. The public loves a romance, especially with someone like Nate—talented, respectable with a slight bad boy edge, but no scandal—“
“Plus,” Emily adds, “Family First is already expressing enthusiasm about the engagement. They’re talking about expanding Nate’s involvement beyond the initial deal.”
I feel Nate shift beside me, and I know that detail catches his attention. His music education program means something to him—that much was clear from our earlier conversation.
“We need an engagement story,” Rachel continues, undeterred by our silence. “Something private, romantic, but verifiable. Suggestions?”
The room erupts with ideas. A quiet proposal during filming of the new movie. A romantic dinner at an exclusive restaurant. A private moment after one of Wild Band’s concerts.
Through it all, I keep thinking about the article I read this morning before my world tilted sideways. “The Most Anticipated Films of the Year” listed my movie at number three. My big break. This is my chance to prove that I’m more than just a flash in the bucket movie star.
“Lacey?” Rachel’s voice snaps me back to attention. “Any preferences for the ring?”
Before I can answer, Nate raises a brow. “What, no staged proposal with fireworks and a full orchestra?”
Rachel hums, tapping her pen against the folder. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
I groan. “Can we not?”
She shrugs. “Fine. We’ll keep it simple. But the point is, the world needs to see that you two are madly in love.”
Madly in love. Right.
I look at Nate again. He’s watching me closely, his dark blue eyes unreadable. I try to picture us together—the way we should look in front of cameras. Can I do this? Pretend to be engaged to someone I just met?
A man I barely know?
Then again, I’m a damn good actress, and I know how to play a role.
Rachel senses my hesitation and presses forward. “You do this, Lacey? Your film premieres without a hitch. You stay in the company’s good graces, and your career stays intact.” She turns to Nate. “And you? You sign that deal without a PR scandal ruining everything.”
Finally, Nate glances at me and then exhales, long and slow. “What exactly will this... engagement entail?” His voice is calm, but there’s something sharp in his eyes.
Rachel leans forward. “Public appearances, a few interviews, and an engagement announcement tonight at the Plaza. Then, we let the relationship unfold naturally in the press. You don’t have to go overboard—just enough PDA to be convincing.” She pauses, then adds with a smirk, “Hand-holding is the minimum, by the way.”
“And that’s all?”
Rachel looks from me to Nate. “This is a romance. No one is going to buy it if you two look like awkward coworkers.”
I shift, still feeling uneasy. But at this point, I don’t see another way out.
“So, are we doing this?” Emily asks over the live stream.
Nate and I hesitate, exchange a look, and then we each nod.
“Looks like we are,” he states.
Rachel’s phone is already out. “Perfect. I’ve already prepared statements for tonight’s announcement.”
My stomach twists, nerves crawling up my spine. This is actually happening.
Nate must notice because he turns to me questioningly.
I return his look, tilting my head slightly. “Nate, are you sure about this?”
He squares his shoulders, meeting my gaze head-on. “What about you? Do you think we can actually pull this off?”
I hold his stare a second longer than necessary. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
He exhales, a resigned but determined look on his face. “Then let’s make them believe it.”
The Plaza’s grand ballroom glitters with camera flashes. My hand is tucked into Nate’s arm, and I’m hyperaware of every point of contact between us. We’ve spent the last hour practicing how to stand, look at each other, and tell our ‘story’ without hesitation.
“Just follow my lead,” I whisper through my practiced smile as another reporter approaches. After a few years in the industry, I can do press in my sleep.
“And here they are!” The reporter beams at us. “Hollywood’s newest celebrity couple. Tell us, how did you manage to keep this a secret for so long?”
Nate’s arm tenses slightly under my hand, but his voice is steady. “When something’s important to you, you protect it.”
I lean into him slightly. “We wanted time just to be us—alone and away from the spotlight.”
“And the proposal?” Another reporter chimes in. “Was it as romantic as we’re hearing?”
I turn to look up at Nate, channeling every rom-com I’ve ever watched. “Actually, it was perfect because it was simple. Just us, no pretense.”
Nate’s eyes meet mine, and something shifts in his expression. For a moment, he’s not just playing along—he’s selling it. His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face, and I feel my breath catch.
“When you know, you know,” he says softly, and damn if he isn’t good at this.
The reporters practically melt.
I plaster on the perfect Hollywood smile and grip Nate’s hand casually as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.
And then—without hesitation—he lifts our joined hands and presses a soft, lingering kiss to the back of my fingers.
It’s choreographed romance at its finest, and the crowd eats it up.
My pulse speeds up at the unexpected warmth of his lips against my skin, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I tilt my head toward him, letting our gazes lock for half a second longer than necessary. That’s all the cameras need to capture the perfect shot—two people utterly and completely besotted with each other.
Rachel will be thrilled.
“And the ring?” someone calls out.
I extend my left hand, showing off the stunning vintage diamond Rachel somehow procured in record time. “It was his grandmother’s,” I lie smoothly, the story we rehearsed flowing naturally. “Which made it even more special.”
Nate’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I have to remind myself this is all for show. He’s just playing his part, just like I am. But when he pulls me closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, “You’re amazing at this,” I can’t help but shiver.
“Tell us more about the proposal!” a reporter calls.
I expect Nate to hesitate. Instead, he slides an arm around my waist, pulling me close like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Private beach,” he says smoothly, his voice laced with just enough warmth to be dangerously convincing. “At sunset. Just the two of us.”
I barely stop myself from gaping at him. That was not in the script.
Rachel told us to stick to the story. Nate just created a whole new one.
But I recover quickly, leaning my head against his shoulder and smiling like the happiest woman alive. “It was so romantic,” I add, my voice dreamy.
More flashes. More excited whispers.
Rachel, standing just out of frame, gives me a discreet nod of approval.
“Kiss her!” someone shouts from the press line, and my heart stutters.
We hadn’t practiced this part.
But before I can react, Nate’s hand cups my cheek, his eyes this close up gleam an intense blue, and then his lips brush against mine in a kiss so soft, so maddeningly perfect, that for a single, disorienting second—I forget.
I forget that it’s fake.
I forget that I met him less than ten hours ago.
I forget that this is all a contractual illusion.
Because Nate kisses me like it means something!
Like he wants to!
And I have no idea how to process that because even though the kiss is gentle and sweet—exactly what you’d expect from a couple in love who’s mindful of their audience. There’s something else there, too, something that makes my skin tingle and my pulse race.
When we break apart, the cameras explode with flash after flash, and I have to blink against the brightness, struggling to reorient myself.
“I think,” Nate murmurs as he takes my hand in his, “this is going to be easier than I thought.”
I squeeze his hand in response, not trusting myself to speak, praying he can’t feel how my pulse is still racing. Because if that kiss was just acting, he deserves an Academy Award.
As we’re led through another round of interview questions, both of us playing our parts to perfection, smiling, laughing, and weaving the perfect love story, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re both in way over our heads.