Chapter Nine
Julian
The car door slammed shut behind me, muting the chaos outside like flipping a switch.
Silence. Blessed, heavy silence.
I exhaled slowly, the mask sliding off my face as my shoulders eased against the leather seat.
Across from me, Miles was still wide-eyed and stiff, clutching his bag like someone might rip it away. His breathing came fast and shallow, chest rising like he’d just run a marathon.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
He froze back there. Completely. Like a deer in headlights.
If I hadn’t warned him... if I hadn’t said anything... he probably would’ve stood there until the vultures swallowed him whole.
Not that he even realized it yet.
The way he followed me through the cameras—silent, tense, head down because I’d told him to keep it there—it was almost funny.
Almost.
I sighed and leaned my head back, closing my eyes for a second.
Why did I bother?
Not my circus. Not my problem. Miles Bennett could crash and burn in this world just like every other fresh-faced, wide-eyed rookie before him.
But he’d looked at me with those stupid big eyes. Panicked. Drowning.
Like a lost puppy.
My jaw clenched.
God help me if I start feeling sorry for him.
I cracked one eye open and glanced at him again.
Still staring out the window like he wasn’t sure what planet he’d landed on.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, biting back a curse.
This was going to be a very, very long week.
Bradley cleared his throat from the front seat, dragging my attention away from Miles and his quiet panic spiral.
“So here’s the deal,” Bradley started, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“This isn’t just any shoot. You two are part of an exclusive collaboration between Lumeo—Italy’s biggest high-fashion line—and Vanguard Studios.
They want to cross-promote fashion and film for this new international campaign.
Huge press push. Global attention. You’re both the faces they picked for it. ”
“Lucky us,” I muttered.
Renee, Miles’s agent, turned slightly from the passenger seat, smiling too wide. “It’s a big opportunity, Julian. Florence is the perfect backdrop. Fashion capital. The press’ll eat this up—and Miles’s new film gets extra buzz before release. Win-win.”
“Great for him,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.
Bradley kept going. “The company wants natural chemistry—not stiff, staged crap. So you’ll do shoots together. Candid stuff too. Strolling the piazzas, sipping espresso... you know, like you’re friends or something.”
I snorted so hard Lena shot me a warning glance from her phone.
“Which brings us to the main part,” Renee added, clapping her hands like this was Christmas morning. “They want you two to actually spend time together. Off-camera too. Which is why... you’re sharing a suite.”
Dead silence.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
Bradley cleared his throat. “Separate beds. Huge room. But close enough that the press will believe you’re inseparable.”
I sat forward, staring him down like he’d lost his mind.
“What? You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room as happy-go-lucky over here. I need space. Quiet. Sanity.”
Bradley didn’t even flinch. “And you’ll get it—in a five-star suite overlooking the Arno. Two beds, plenty of space. But you’re stuck together. Company’s orders. Non-negotiable.”
I groaned and slumped back against the leather seat, scrubbing a hand over my face.
I could feel Miles fidgeting beside me, sneaking me some half-apology smile like he hadn’t asked for this either.
God help me. This trip’s going to kill me.