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“Then you tried to kiss me,” he teases.

I tear my eyes away from him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I guess I was drunk.”

He let out a low chuckle.

“Hmm, right.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m doing nothing.”

“You’re teasing me about it.”

Sean smiles. He pulls me closer, his hand splayed across my back. He leans down, lips almost touching my cheek.

My heart hammers against my ribs.

“Someone’s taking pictures of us.”

My breath hitches. “Oh.”

“Is this okay? Do we look like a couple in love?”

“Very convincing.”

“I aim to please, Ms. Sinclair.”

His breath caresses my cheeks. Breathing is an impossible task.

“Are they still taking pictures?”

“No.” He steps back, taking my hand. “Let’s go back inside.”

I nod, unable to mutter a word.

Throughout the rest of the evening, I'm hyper aware of Sean's presence. The way he brushes my hair off my shoulder, his fingers grazing my skin. The deep rumble of his laugh when I say something he finds funny. How he steps forward when the crowd thickens, shielding me. The protective gesture feels so natural, I almost forget we're pretending.

“So how long have you two been together?” asks Maria Chen, a popular cosmetics founder we’re placed on the same table with.

I open my mouth, but before I can answer, Sean speaks.

“Not long enough.” His eyes find mine, something soft and warm in his gaze. “Feels like we're just getting started.”

My heart stutters. Is he still acting? Because that didn't sound rehearsed.

“Well, you make a gorgeous couple,” Maria says with a knowing smile. “It's nice to see you with someone who looks at you like that, Wren.”

When Maria speaks to the person next to her, I turn to Sean. “Like what?”

“Like what, what?” He takes a sip of his drink, his dark blue eyes never leaving mine.

“How do you look at me?”

The question hangs between us, more intimate than I expected. The bustle of the gala seems to fade into background noise.

“You want the truth?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.