11. Cameron
Felicity breezed into my office without even knocking, holding her phone in the air and looking outraged.
“I know, I know, I’ve already seen it,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Guess we need to assume there are always eyes on us.”
“I know that,” she said. “I dressed with the idea that we’d probably be spotted. But after all that time in the bar without sensing anyone watching me, I figured it wasn’t the right crowd for CamLicity, you know? Why’d they have to catch me at the end of the night, when my hair had gone all flat and my lip gloss was gone?”
“Hey, I offered to have a stylist take care of things. Maybe they could have given you some products that would have kept you camera-ready all night.”
Not that she needed any help with that. Yeah, her hair wasn’t as perfect in the photo as it had been at the start of the night, but I liked it a little disheveled, as if I’d been running my hands through it. But of course, I wasn’t going to say that to her. Nor was I going to bring up how cute she looked now. Her hair was a little wild, and the tie on the front of her cream blouse was off kilter.
Her eyebrows drew down and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I just feel weirded out that I didn’t even realize there was a camera on me.”
Truth be told, I hadn’t realized either—which was unusual for me. I usually had a better sense for that kind of thing. But then, Felicity hugging me had been one hell of a distraction.
“On us,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” she started pacing and scrolling on her phone. “I still need to wrap my head around how public this fake relationship is going to be.”
I laughed at her. “You sure you’re in marketing?”
She came to a stop and glared at me.
“Anyway, the metrics for hug-gate are incredible,” I continued. “And people are coming up with new hashtags. Did you see the one about trying to catch us together in the wild?”
“You mean #CatchCamLicity?”
I nodded. “That’s the one. It’s like a contest or something.”
“That’s actually really cool. People are getting invested.” She sighed and plopped down in the chair across the desk from me. “Okay, so that means our next move is to manufacture another moment, but splashier and more deliberate this time. The hugging shots are a casual day-in-the-life angle—now it’s time to sell the glamour. And then I can make sure I look my best.”
“What are you talking about?” I picked up my phone and scrolled to the series of us outside Frankie’s Tavern. Felicity was nestled up against my chest with her eyes closed, and I was staring off into the distance in profile with my chin resting on top of her head. The way our bodies were glued together totally sold that we were a couple in love. “You look gorgeous, even in those jeans.”
“Um, thanks, I think?” she said, sounding outraged. “What’s wrong with my jeans?”
“Oh my god, Felicity,” I sighed. “There is nothing wrong with them. But you’re right, we’re trying to manufacture a fantasy, so let’s do it up big time. Time to turn some heads.”
I could see her mind spinning out as she tried to come up with the next idea. “We need to build to a crescendo over time, so let’s start with a sexy but attainable scenario. Dinner in a special spot. We need to make sure it’s a place with a lot of foot traffic—and that they can seat us by a window.”
I snapped my fingers. “La Nuit. You can’t get much sexier than a French restaurant, and they have the perfect table right up front. The window is ringed with wisteria, so it’ll look great in photos. You available tonight?”
“Uh, lemme check.” She did a half-scroll and put her phone on my desk. “Imagine that, I’m free.”
I shot off a text to Daniel, and less than three minutes later I got the confirmation. “Eight tonight. Now, we shop.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said yourself that your look has to be right. If we had more time, I really would call in a stylist, but since it’s short notice, I’ll do it myself. I have very specific thoughts about how my partners should dress.”
She wrinkled her nose like she smelled sour milk. “Okay, that’s creepy. You want me to be your human Barbie doll?”
I laughed at her. “Not exactly. Let’s just say I’d rather see you in Branson Couture than Lily Pulitzer.”
“As if I could tell the difference between the two,” she said.
“Again, you sure you’re in marketing? I thought being up on that fashion stuff was part of it.”
“Again,” she said in a mocking voice, “I’m usually the behind-the-scenes person in crappy jeans, not on-camera talent. This is new to me.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” I said as I gathered my things and stood up. “Now let’s get to it—this could take a while. We’ve only got a couple of hours if we want to make it on time. Dress shopping first, then a quick trip to the salon for hair and makeup.”
She glared at me again. “Fine, let’s go.”
“You’re making it sound like I’m taking you to the dentist,” I laughed as we headed out of my office. “It’s going to be fun, I promise.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Okay, I admit it,” Felicity said, doing twirls in front of the mirror. “I’m having fun.”
“Told you,” I replied, glancing up from my phone. “Whoa.”
She stopped twirling and gave me a coquettish pose, with her hand on her hip and one foot kicked out. “Oh, you like?”
Did I like the strapless, pale pink dress that hit her on the high thigh and fluttered when she spun, showing off even more of her shapely leg? “Like” was an understatement.
“Uh, yeah, that one’s great,” I said. “Who’s the designer?”
She grabbed the label at the bodice. “Giam…giambat…I can’t pronounce it, but it sounds Italian and expensive.” She squinted at the label. “Hold on, three thousand dollars? For a dress?”
“For Giambattista Valli, yeah. It’s stunning, but let’s see you in the last dress you have in there. I have a feeling that’s the one.”
“That dress better be no more than a hundred bucks, otherwise it’s out of the question.”
I ignored her because I knew better.
We’d essentially taken over the dressing room at Atelier B, a tiny semi-bespoke boutique that knew my preferences without even having to say a word. I’d only visited the place a few times with Carolina, though, because she preferred going to shops with more staff to fawn over her and a tony address that guaranteed paparazzi outside.
Felicity was a breath of fresh air in comparison. She had no desire to court the cameras, and she actually looked at price tags. And while she knew all about the back end of marketing and publicity, she wasn’t eager to be a “face” for it, unlike my ex. Carolina wasn’t above stunts like purposely dropping a shopping bag on the sidewalk filled with stacks of silky lingerie, then posing prettily as she picked them up and put them back. Page Six had published a photo of Carolina holding up a strappy black teddy with the headline, “Cameron O’Connor is a lucky man.”
Couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
But now wasn’t the time to think about my battle scars from my ex. The manufactured romance with Felicity was keeping me on my toes, and it was surprisingly enjoyable despite our tendency to bicker.
“Oh wow. I think I’m in love,” her voice drifted out from the dressing room after a few minutes of quiet rustling. “This is the most perfect dress ever.”
“Well, show me,” I said. “Get out here.”
I felt a flicker of anticipation at seeing this gussied-up version of Felicity. She was a natural beauty, so fancy dresses were just icing on the cake, but it would be good to see her dressed in something tailored to really make her beauty shine. She drew back the curtain slowly, like she was nervous to come out. She took a few steps toward me, letting the dress do the talking for her.
It was a fitted, strapless confection that clung to her body, embroidered with an explosion of colorful flowers from bodice to hem. Elegant, playful, but still incredibly sexy. I tried not to stare at the swell of her breasts peeking from the top. It was exactly right for attracting attention without seeming like she was trying too hard.
“Perfect,” I agreed quickly. “It’s going to photograph great in the window tonight.”
She frowned at me in the mirror as she smoothed the skirt. “That’s it?”
“What…what do you mean?” I asked, perplexed by the question.
“You said the dress is going to photograph great, but what about me?” Her gaze jumped between her reflection and mine. “Is it just the dress, or do I add something to the equation?”
My first thought was that she was fishing for compliments—but she looked genuinely uncertain. It continued to amaze me that Felicity didn’t understand the depth of her own beauty. Yes, the dress was a work of art, but it was Felicity that elevated it.
I jumped to my feet and strode to her, then took her by shoulders and turned her to face me. It was a struggle to ignore the way her soft skin felt beneath my palms.
“How can you believe you are anything other than flawless?” I asked. “You could wear an extra-large white Hanes t-shirt and ponytail and still be the most beautiful woman in the room.”
She flicked her eyes to the floor, obviously embarrassed by my compliments. “Stop.”
“I won’t. I’m being honest. It’s not my opinion, it’s a fact.”
Felicity glanced up at me and we stared into each other’s eyes, trying to sort out this new level of intimacy we were facing.
“Thank you for saying that,” she murmured. “I’m not used to making a fuss about clothing and stuff. Remember, I’m usually hiding in the garage working on the engine, not actually driving the car.”
I smiled at her clumsy metaphor. “Well, it’s high time you put the top down and go for a joyride.”
She laughed and took a step away from me, holding her hands across her chest. “Top down? What are you suggesting, Mr. O’Connor?”
“Don’t even go there, Fagin,” I warned with a smile. “That’s not in our contract.”
“I’m glad you remember,” she wagged a finger at me. “Topless dining was definitely not part of the equation!”
As much as I wanted to keep joking with her, I knew we needed to keep it professional. After all, she’d been clear in our contract, and I wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable before we’d even begun.
“Why don’t you take the dress off?—”
“Excuse me?” She took a bigger step back from me, pretending to be horrified by the suggestion.
“So I can pay for it,” I laughed. “We need to get moving.”
“Hold on, I want to check the price first,” she said, twisting around to try to find the tag.
I spotted it dangling in the middle of her back, so I pulled it off before she could grab it and start complaining.
“It’s taken care of,” I said as I walked out of the dressing room. “They have heels ready for you as well. Don’t say a word.”
I glanced back at her right as she snapped her mouth closed. “Fine.”
I gave her a wink. “Good girl. So you can listen.”
“Oh my god,” her indignant voice echoed from behind me as I strode to the register. “Did you just praise me like a dog?”
I chuckled and kept walking.
A short while later, the dress was in a hanging bag and Jimmy was ferrying us to a salon whose owner had helped Veritique with a few advertising campaigns. The resulting promotion had been so incredible for her that she’d promised me an open door if I ever needed last-minute help.
Felicity eyed the place suspiciously as we walked to the front door. “Are they going to spackle and shellac me?”
“Well, if we’re staying with your car analogy, I’d say it’s closer to buffing and waxing.”
She froze on the sidewalk. “No, Cameron, come on. That’s so not me. I don’t feel comfortable caked in a ton of makeup.”
“Do you think I want to be seen with someone who looks like a mob wife?” I asked her. “I promise you, Andrea is an artist. You’ll love the way you look. If you don’t, you can wash it off and have her start over.” I paused. “She’ll hate you for it, but she’ll do whatever you want until you’re happy.”
She sighed and followed me in. “This is so weird for me.”
“Just go with it. Pretend to enjoy it, okay?”
I knew it would only take a few minutes in the staff’s capable hands before she relaxed. I found my gaze bouncing between my phone and Felicity as they got to work, because something about her always seemed to draw my eye. And it was clear that it wasn’t just me she affected—she charmed everyone she came in contact with.
I knew from my team’s feedback that Felicity had an easygoing, cheerful vibe, but I enjoyed seeing her in action. Sure, she had no desire to be in the chair with someone doing her hair and someone else working on her manicure, but she smiled and chatted away like she was having the best day of her life. I knew firsthand that she had no trouble standing up for herself if she thought someone was being rude to her, but when her hackles weren’t raised, she really cared about treating everyone with warmth and kindness. It was quite a departure from most of the women I’d dated in the past.
They whisked her away to another part of the salon, so I was finally able to focus on the work piling up. It was way too easy to get lost in Felicity-world. I needed to keep my eyes on the numbers, to make sure the legacy I’d inherited remained at number one. Thanks to Lucy’s #RingingintheRomance shenanigans, the buzz around Veritique was all positive for a change.
I took a quick break to navigate to Felicity’s social media pages and noticed that she’d already hinted we were going to be out and about tonight. The woman was savvy as hell. Our partnership, both the professional as well as the manufactured personal side, was already paying dividends.
I got lost in work, taking a few calls and sending a dozen emails as I waited for Felicity. When I finally checked the time, I realized we needed to get moving if we expected to make it to the restaurant on time.
“Hey, Mr. O’Connor,” a voice came from behind me. “What do you think of your scruffy little pickpocket now?”
I turned to find Felicity absolutely transformed. She was back in the dress with her hair smoothed and shiny on her shoulders. I stared at her, awestruck.
She walked closer to me, her smile widening. “You were right again. I shut my mouth and trusted the process, and I love the way I look. It’s like me, but with more sparkle. Check it out.”
Felicity closed her eyes and leaned toward me so I could see the pinkish shimmer on her lids. I wanted to drink her in, to tilt her chin this way and that so I could admire every facet of her beauty.
I swallowed hard. Sitting across from her all night and keeping my hands to myself was going to be a challenge. Given our charade, I’d be fully in my rights to take her hand in mine. To give her cheek a gentle caress. And hell, once the cameras showed up, I was contractually bound to lean in for a kiss. Or two.
“You’re not saying anything. You don’t like it?” Felicity sounded worried, and she spun around to look at herself in a large mirror in the lobby. “Is the blush too much? Or the lashes? It’s the lashes. They put those giant fake ones on me and now I see that they totally look like spiders on my eyes. I’ll have them take them off.”
I strode up behind her. “Felicity, stop. You look incredible. I was, uh, I was speechless, to be honest.”
She turned to face me. “Oh, so it’s the opposite extreme? You’re not used to seeing me look this good, and you’re in shock that I can clean up. Got it.”
I shook my head in frustration. “Fagin, you exhaust me, you know that?”
“Good,” she giggled. “I like keeping you on your toes. Just so I’m sure, we agree that this look works for tonight?”
She did a slow, model-esque turn for me, and every angle revealed something new to admire. The beautiful, creamy skin of her back and shoulders, her spun-gold waterfall of hair, her full lips, slicked with a pinkish shine that would make kissing her a challenge—but which made them look so tempting that I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, even if it meant getting some of that gloss on me.
I cleared my throat and tried to release the tension pressurizing me. “Yes. Yes, it works.”
“Okay, so now I can stop obsessing about how I look and start getting nervous about being the center of attention.” Her happy expression slipped. “I think we’re going to have quite the audience. I’ve been watching how our hashtag is trending.”
I resisted the urge to grab her hand. It wasn’t time for that yet.
“Felicity, listen,” I began, waiting for her to stop staring at herself in the mirror and focus on me. “Yes, this evening is going to attract a lot of attention, but the core of it is us, together. And we already know you have no trouble holding your own with me, correct?”
The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Correct.”
“So just focus on that, and you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” she snorted out a laugh. “Nah, I’m not sure if I can do that yet. But I do trust the process, and the contract you signed. So I guess you’re right. I’ll be fine.”
She winked at me and headed for the door with her shoulders back. It felt like false bravado, but, as I reminded myself, the whole night was one big charade.
Even if it really didn’t feel like one.