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“Perfect,” the photographer calls out. “Now, Ms. Monroe, lean into him a bit more. We want to capture that natural chemistry.”
Natural chemistry. Right. Because there’s nothing natural about having a dozen people watch you cuddle with your fake fiancé while my manager hovers in the background, analyzing every move.
But I do as instructed, settling against Nate’s side. He smells like expensive cologne and something distinctly masculine, and I have to force myself to focus on the camera instead of the way his body feels against mine.
“Beautiful!” More rapid clicks of the camera. “Mr. Stone, could you look at Ms. Monroe like she’s the only person in the room?”
I feel Nate’s quiet laugh more than I hear it. “That won’t be hard,” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to catch.
Heat creeps up my neck as I remember last night on the deck, that charged moment when we’d come so close to touching. Iturn to meet his gaze, and the intensity I find there makes my breath catch.
“That’s it!” The photographer sounds delighted. “Hold that look!”
Rachel’s heels click across the hardwood as she approaches. “Let’s take five, everyone. Lacey, touch-ups.”
The spell breaks. I extract myself from Nate’s embrace, ignoring the way my skin feels cold without his touch.
“How are we doing?” I ask Rachel as the makeup artist attacks my face with more powder.
“The shots are gorgeous.” She scrolls through something on her tablet. “Good. There will be a brief interview afterward, so keep the details vague but emotional. And remember—“
“Let Nate take the lead on questions about his past,” I finish. We’ve been over this a dozen times.
“Speaking of Nate...” Rachel glances over to where he’s talking with the photographer, his easy charm on full display. “The chemistry between you two is... very convincing.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me look up sharply. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.” She gives me one of those looks that makes me feel like she can see right through me. “Just remember what’s at stake here. For you.”
Before I can respond, the photographer calls us back. Nate’s waiting by a grand piano now—which is strange, given that drums are his instrument. According to Rachel, it makes for a better photo op than his drum kit. I bite my lip so as not to laugh, remembering the look on Nate’s face when she told him that.
“Alright, let’s try some shots by the piano,” the photographer directs. “Ms. Monroe, if you could perch on the edge...”
Nate’s hands on my waist feel like brands through the thin material of my dress as he helps me onto the piano.
“Now, Mr. Stone, stand close. Like you might steal a kiss at any moment.”
My pulse quickens as Nate moves even nearer. I can feel the heat radiating from his body and see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. His thumb strokes my cheek in a gesture that feels too intimate for cameras, too real for our carefully constructed facade.
“Perfect!” More camera clicks. “The intimacy is exactly what we’re looking for.”
Intimacy. If they only knew how intimate it feels when Nate looks at me like this, like I’m something precious and dangerousall at once. How my skin tingles wherever he touches me. How last night’s almost-kiss plays on repeat in my mind.
“You okay?” he asks softly, noticing my distraction.
“Yeah.” I manage a smile. “Just tired.”
His thumb strokes my cheek, ostensibly for the camera, but the comfort feels real. “We’ve got this. Just follow my lead.”
“Always.”
Something flashes in his eyes at that, but before I can decipher it, Rachel announces the arrival of the People Magazine reporter. And the photographer yells, “That’s a wrap.”
“Ready?” Nate asks, helping me down from the piano.
No, I want to say. I’m not ready for more pretending, more careful scripts, more walking the line between real and fake. I’m not ready for how natural it feels to play the role of a woman in love when I’m starting to suspect—
Instead, I squeeze his hand and put on my best camera-ready smile. “Ready.”