Chapter 7
INA
Istared at my reflection in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back.
“Is that really me?” I whispered.
“There’s no filters or special effects on that mirror, kiddo.” The makeup artist, a woman named Gloria who’d been doing this for twenty years and had stories about every celebrity who’d ever set foot in New York, grinned at me. “That was always you. I just enhanced what was already there.”
Enhanced felt like an understatement.
My hair, normally a simple dark brown that I either wore down or in a ponytail, had been transformed into a cascading masterpiece of waves and volume.
The blowout was so full and perfectly styled, I was pretty sure it could be seen from space.
Maybe from Mars. Every strand fell exactly where it was supposed to, catching the light in a way that made it look like I was selling shampoo instead of a dating app.
My luscious locks had never looked so lovely.
And my face was looking fierce as well. Gloria had done something with contouring that made my cheekbones look sharp enough to cut glass.
My eyes looked twice their normal size, lined and shadowed in a way that was dramatic without being overdone.
My lips were painted a deep red that I’d never in a million years have chosen for myself but somehow looked right with the total package.
I had sat in the chair for over an hour and knew exactly how much makeup was on my face, but it didn’t look like I was gearing up to be a rodeo clown.
It was classy. Elegant. And I looked pretty.
“Alright, gorgeous, time to get you into wardrobe,” Gloria said, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You call Gloria if you need a touch-up.”
The wardrobe room was down the hall, and when I walked in, I found a dress hanging on a rack with my name on it. Not just any dress—the dress. The one that had been made specifically for me after they’d taken my measurements earlier in the week.
I had never had anything made for me.
It was form-fitting in a way that made me immediately self-conscious, a red dress meant to evoke thoughts of hearts and Valentine’s.
The neckline was a little daring but not inappropriate.
The hem would hit about two inches above my knees.
Again, not risqué, but it was still nothing like I would typically pick out.
“I can’t wear this,” I said to the wardrobe assistant, a young woman named Abby who was already pulling out accessories.
“You absolutely can,” she said cheerfully. “Trust me, you’re going to look incredible. Now arms up.”
Ten minutes later, I was standing in front of a full-length mirror, wearing the dress and a pair of heels that were so tall I felt like I needed a safety harness.
I looked like the best version of me.
“Perfect,” Abby declared. “I knew it. You ready, super star?”
“No,” I said honestly.
She laughed. “No one ever is.”
I wobbled out of the wardrobe room in my ridiculous heels. I made it about ten feet before Lucas appeared, took one look at me, and pressed his hand to his chest like he was having heart palpitations.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Oh my God, Ina. You look like a whole movie star. You look like you should be on a red carpet somewhere making everyone else feel inadequate.”
My cheeks heated under all the makeup. “This is way too much. I look like I’m going to the Oscars, not filming a thirty-second commercial.”
“It’s showbiz,” Lucas teased. “Everything is supposed to be too much. That’s the whole point. We’re selling a fantasy here.”
“But what if people think this is real?” I gestured at myself. “Dane is literally NYC’s Most Eligible Bachelor. What if people actually think we’re dating?”
Lucas laughed so hard he had to lean against the wall. “Oh, honey. No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no one is going to think you’re actually dating because Dane Kavanagh dating anyone would require hell to freeze over, pigs to fly, and the fundamental laws of physics to be rewritten. The man is famously, publicly, aggressively single. It’s part of his whole mysterious billionaire thing.”
I frowned. “But he runs a dating company.”
“Exactly! The irony is part of the appeal. The man who helps everyone else find love but doesn’t believe in it for himself? That’s a whole narrative. People eat that up.”
“That seems… sad, actually.”
Lucas’s expression softened. “Maybe. But it’s also very on brand for Dane. He’s married to his work, always has been. This commercial is just playing into the fantasy that even he couldn’t resist the power of Cupid’s Arrow. Everyone knows Dane Kavanagh doesn’t date.”
“Then why does he run a dating company?” The question had been bothering me since I’d started working at Cupid’s Arrow. How could someone who so clearly avoided personal connections be the mastermind behind an app designed to create them?
“Because he’s brilliant at business, not at feelings,” Lucas said simply. “He saw a market opportunity and he capitalized on it. The algorithm works, the matchmakers are incredible, and the success rate speaks for itself. But Dane is not interested in the whole idea of love for himself.”
Heidi appeared in the doorway, looking frazzled but determined.
“There you are! We need you on set now. The director is getting antsy and we’re already behind schedule.” She looked me up and down and nodded approvingly. “You look perfect. Come on, we’re losing light.”
“We’re inside,” I pointed out weakly.
“And we’re losing it! Move, move, move!”
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of being ushered onto set, having my makeup touched up one more time because apparently some of the spackle cracked when I laughed. Suddenly I was standing just off camera, waiting for my cue.
Dane was sitting in that same massive chair from the rehearsal. He was wearing black slacks and a pastel pink shirt unbuttoned at the top. His hair was artfully mussed. He was ready for his closeup.
Then he looked up and saw me.
His eyes widened. Just for a second, but I saw the way his gaze traveled from my face down over the dress and back up again.
I tried to walk toward my mark and immediately wobbled in my heels.
“Careful!” Heidi called. “Although honestly, you only need to walk about two steps before you’re basically draping yourself over Dane, so if you can make it that far without falling, we’re golden.”
The director appeared in front of me. “You’ll walk into frame, take his hand. He’ll pull you close, you’ll put your arms around his neck, kiss his cheek. Very simple, very romantic. We’ve been through this. You’ll do great.”
Simple. Right. Simple like defusing a bomb was simple.
I glanced at Dane again and found him still staring at me.
He cleared his throat, shifted in his chair, and for a moment I was sure he was going to call the whole thing off.
He looked off kilter in a way I’d never seen before.
My boss would give a statue a run for its money.
He didn’t express anything with his face.
“Alright, everyone ready?” the director called. “Ina, you good?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Dane?”
He nodded too, but his eyes hadn’t left me.
This was bad. This was so bad. Because touching him during the rehearsal had been like touching a live wire, and we’d both been wearing regular clothes and I hadn’t been done up like some kind of ideal version of myself.
The thought of putting my arms around him and pressing my lips to his cheek legit gave me goose bumps.
It felt dangerous. Like standing on the edge of a cliff in a windstorm.
“Action!”
Everything else fell away. It was all background noise as my focus narrowed to one thing.
Dane.
He looked directly at the camera. The uncertain, off-balance man from thirty seconds ago disappeared, replaced by the confident CEO I knew oh so well.
“I’m Dane Kavanagh,” he said, his voice rich and warm and completely commanding. “And a few weeks ago, I was named Most Eligible Bachelor of 2026.”
He paused and then slowly smiled.
“But that’s not actually true. Because I’m not eligible.” He extended his hand toward me. My cue. “I found my soulmate on Cupid’s Arrow.”
I moved, and by the grace of God, the wobble from earlier was gone. I focused on his eyes and the way he was looking at me. I knew romance. I’d been studying it my whole life—every book, every movie, every play. I knew what love was supposed to look like, even if I’d never felt it myself.
This was what I’d come to New York for, wasn’t it? Love. Magic. The kind of overwhelming connection that made everything else disappear.
So I let myself believe it, just for these few seconds. I looked at him like he was my Prince Charming.
I slid my hand into Dane’s outstretched one. The touch of his fingers was still electric.
He pulled me toward him with a gentle tug, guiding me to my mark beside the chair. My free hand came up to rest on his shoulder, and then I was leaning down, my other arm sliding around his neck.
I leaned into him, my breasts brushing against his shoulder as I pressed a kiss to his cheek. Red lipstick stained his face when I pulled back.
“I found the love of my life at Cupid’s Arrow,” he said, not missing his lines.
I smiled at the camera like a woman crazy in love.
“Cut!”
The director’s voice shattered the spell, and reality came rushing back in a wave of noise and movement.
The room erupted. People were clapping, talking over each other. I could hear Heidi’s voice rising above the chaos. “We got it! Oh my God, we got it in one take! We won’t lose the light!”
I started to pull away from Dane, but for just a second, his hand tightened on my back. Like he didn’t want to let go.
Then he released me and I stepped back, my legs wobbly again.
The director was nearly dancing with excitement. “That was perfect! That was exactly what we needed. That looked so real.”
I looked through the crowd and found Lucas standing near the monitors. His arms were crossed, his lips pursed, and when our eyes met, he arched one knowing eyebrow like he could see right through me, right into my heart’s secret.
Then Dane was moving, excusing himself from the director, who was trying to show him the playback. He cut through the crowd with those long, purposeful strides. Heidi rushed after him, calling his name, but he kept walking until he disappeared through a door at the back of the warehouse.
I had no idea what just happened. But holy shit. If romantic chemistry was a real thing, I was screwed.
Monday morning, I arrived at my desk with a travel mug of coffee and a determination to pretend Friday had never happened.
I’d spent the entire weekend trying to convince myself that whatever I’d felt during the commercial shoot was just adrenaline and good acting and the result of being transformed into someone I wasn’t.
In my normal clothes, with my normal hair, sitting at my normal desk, everything would go back to normal.
Except the first thing I saw when I logged into my email was a message from Heidi with a meeting on my calendar. And the meeting was on Dane’s calendar as well.
A meeting I hadn’t scheduled.
My stomach dropped.
Oh shit.