Page 11 of Fake Lemons Love and Luxury

WREN

I grab a granola bar from my bag, twirling it in my hand as I pace.

Talia hasn’t said any other thing other than she wants to see Sean and me since I arrived, her furious keystrokes the only sound between us. I lean against my desk, tapping my foot. My stomach churns with anxiety and the bitter aftertaste of the coffee I downed on my way here.

Talia is upset about our carelessness but I need her to say it. I’ve already beat myself up all the way here. I steel myself for whenever she speaks.

The photographs displayed on my table mock me with every glance—Sean's arms around me, his lips on my forehead, my vulnerable expression captured for the world to see. Our private moment is now public. A moment I’ve been trying to push out of my mind and pretend like it didn’t happen.

I don’t even have the choice of doing that now. My stomach turns.

Unable to bear the silence anymore, I speak first.

“This is a disaster.” I run my fingers through my hair, not caring that I'm ruining the sleek style I'd crafted this morning. I’ve seen the way Sean’s eyes linger and darken the first time I wore this outfit.

I don’t know what possessed me to wear it again even though I’m trying to set boundaries. It feels counterproductive.

“I know it looks bad,” I say. “It was careless. I should have never let my guard down. I should’ve set more boundaries.”

A smile tugs at Talia’s mouth. “Relax, Wren.”

I blink.

“Relax?”

Talia shifts on the sofa in my office, manicured nails tapping against her coffee mug. “It might not be as bad as you think. In fact, I think this might be good.”

“How could this be good?” I stop pacing to stare at her. “Haven't you seen the comments?”

“Have you?”

I shake my head vigorously. “God, no. I can’t bear the nasty comments. I don’t check social media anymore. I’m suffering enough.”

“Well, I have. That's why I'm saying this.”

The door opens and Sean walks in, his expression grim. My heart does a traitorous little flip at the sight of him.

“Sorry, I'm late. Had to drop Eric at school.”

“No problem.” Talia gestures to the couch opposite hers. “We were just discussing the... situation.”

Sean sits, keeping a careful distance between us. “Look, I take full responsibility. I should’ve been more careful.”

I sit down hard.

“It's not your fault. I'm the one who broke down.”

Sean shifts, watching me. He says nothing.

“Actually,” Talia interrupts, swiveling her screen toward us, “this might be what we need right now.”

Paparazzi shots fill the screen. Me. Sean. The blurred shape of us in the car. Headlines splash across every corner.

“America’s Sweetheart’s New Mystery Man

Wren Sinclair Off the Market?”

“They are eating it up,” Talia says.

I frown. “I don’t understand.”

“Look at the comments.”

I swallow, forcing myself to read through them, expecting vitriol and slutshaming. Instead, I find curiosity, excitement, and even support.

“OMG, who is this silver fox??? ”

“Wren deserves happiness more than anyone . A tasteful queen I stan!”

“That protective embrace though! ”

“I’ve always wondered who Wren Sinclair is dating. I refuse to believe a gorgeous woman like her has been single for years. She’s too beloved and beautiful to be single. Haha. Good taste, Wren. Go, stunning couple. ”

“Wren Sinclair has always been the baddest woman in Hollywood! No wonder she keeps her relationships private. Girlie knows everyone would be drooling over her man. ”

“Idk y’all, they look like such an IT Couple omfg! I think we’ve got the latest IT Couple in Hollywood.”

“omg, they’re so hot. hello??”

“I ship them so bad already. Who is he!??? ”

My mouth falls open. I can’t believe what I’m reading. People like Sean and I together? I blink.

Sean pulls away with a frown. “Am I reading these comments right?”

Talia laughs. “Very fierce, right?”

“Fierce and passionate. It’s a whiplash. I can’t believe it,” I shove a hand through my hair. “I’ve avoided going on the internet for weeks now because I’m so scared of ruining what’s left of my sanity with the deranged comments. This is… unbelievable.”

“That’s the internet for you, and how fickle people are.”

“But what about the false accusations? I thought this might be the last straw.”

“People are getting bored with Camille's accusations,” Talia explains. “The plagiarism story is old news, but this—” she taps the photo. “—this is new and intriguing. Your romantic life has always fascinated people because you keep it so private.”

“Because it's private.”

“Yes.” Talia leans forward, her eyes bright with that look she gets when she's piecing together a strategy. “No one even knew you were married until the divorce filings became public record.”

I clench my jaw. “And I'd like to keep my personal life that way.”

“The thing is, Wren, the public's already in your personal life. But now, instead of speculating about whether you're a fraud, they're speculating about your love life. The narrative is shifting.”

Sean shifts in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “What are you suggesting?”

Talia smiles.

“Lean into it. A curated romance narrative could be what we need to redirect attention away from the scandal.”

My mouth drops open. “You want us to fake a relationship?”

“I want you to control the story instead of letting it control you.”

“That's insane.” I stand up again, unable to stay still. “I can't ask Sean to do that. And I can't subject myself to even more public scrutiny.”

“The thing is,” Talia counters, “this would give you the perfect excuse to be seen together everywhere without raising suspicions about security concerns. Plus, the public loves a good romance. It humanizes you.”

“I’m already human just like them. I don't need to be humanized.”

“Everyone who's been portrayed as a villain does.”

That stings, but she's not wrong. The scandal has painted me as a corporate shark who steals from the little guy.

I shake my head.

“I can't do it. The media would be all over us. They'd dig into Sean's life. Eric would be confused. It's too complicated.”

“It's temporary,” Talia argues. “Just until the product launch. Just until we gather enough evidence to stand against Marlowe and Camille. Six weeks, max.”

“No, I can’t. I’ve kept my private life private for a reason. I don’t want to drag Sean into this circus.”

“I think this is a good idea.”

Sean's deep voice cuts through our debate. We both turn to stare at him.

“You what?” I blink, certain I've misheard.

“It’s a good idea. I’ll do it.” His face is calm, his tone even calmer. “If it helps take the negative attention off you and the company, I'm in.”

Talia claps her hands once, beaming as if Christmas came early.

“Perfect!”

“Wait, you can't be serious.” I look at Sean, hands on my hips. “This would put you in the spotlight. Everything you hate.”

“I hate seeing you and your son stressed even more. This is my job, Wren. Protecting you and your interests. If it helps you. If it protects Eric. Then yeah. Let’s do it.”

His job. Of course. This is just another security tactic for him. Nothing personal. The realization shouldn't hurt, but it does.

“It would be for appearances,” Talia clarifies, sensing my hesitation. “A few public sightings. You know, soft launches. Coffee dates. Some strategic articles. Nothing over the top.”

“I’m in. If you agree, of course.”

They're both looking at me now, waiting for my decision. The smart move would be to say yes. To use this unexpected development to our advantage. To protect my company.

“Fine.” I let out a slow exhale. “But we set boundaries. And it ends after the product launch.”

“Sure!” Talia's already typing notes into her tablet. “I'll draft some guidelines for appearances, social media engagement, all of it.”

“And Eric?”

“We keep him out of it,” Sean says in a firm tone. “We’ll have to tell him we're spending time together because I'm helping you with work.”

It's a sensible plan. Clean. Professional. So why does my heart feel so tangled?

“I have some calls to make.” Talia stands, a gleam in her eyes. “Can you two give me an hour to work up a strategy? In the meantime, maybe grab coffee downstairs? Start getting comfortable being seen together?”

Before I can protest, she's ushering us toward the door, the gleam in her eye making it clear she's already ten steps ahead.

In the elevator, Sean and I stand in awkward silence. I risk a glance at him.

“You don't have to do this.”

“I know.”

“It's going to be uncomfortable.”

“Maybe.”

I study his profile, searching for regret or reluctance. “Why did you agree?”

The elevator stops, doors sliding open to the lobby. He turns to me now, dark blue eyes meeting mine.

“Because you need this win, Wren. And I?—”

He stops, something shifting in his expression. The air between us changes, and thickens. His gaze drops to my lips for just a second, then back to my eyes.

My heart slams against my ribs.

Now, I’m not thinking about optics or strategy.

I’m thinking about the way he looked at me that night, his hand pressed to the small of my back, the way his body felt so solid next to mine. So safe.

I tear my gaze away.

It’s not real. It’s not real. He’s only doing his job.

This is pretend, I remind myself. Just for show. Just until the launch.

But as we step out of the elevator together, his hand finding the small of my back with natural ease, I'm not so sure either of us is pretending anymore.