Page 32

Marguerite pops up moments later with fabric shears and her sewing kit, a trail of blue satin tossed over her shoulder. She gets to work, none the wiser that I’d moved across the room. She mumbles and pins, mumbles and pins, arching a brow every so often at the incessant buzzing of my phone.

“You ever turn that thing off?” she gripes.

“I do. When I’m not working,” I reply coyly.

“And when is that?”

“Never.”

Her lips push into a tight smile as she wheels around me, inspecting her alterations. One last pin drills in beside the boning in my chest, and then she backs away. “Very good. It’ll be my favorite yet, I think.”

“Are you adding the crystals I asked for?”

Her lips purse. “The note said this one is intended to be a bit more sleek than what you’ve worn in the past.”

“Sleek?” I scoff. “It’s candy pink. I look like I fell out of a pack of gum.”

She lifts a reluctant shoulder. “Ultimately, it’s your call.”

I know she’s right, but my whole life goal right now is supposed to be to get back on track, keep my record label happy, fly under the radar without removing myself from the spotlight entirely—which is truly a feat—and keep my career charging full steam ahead.

It all feels impossible, but I know it isn’t, not if I listen to the coaching from my team.

The people my mother and I have so carefully chosen.

Their salaries alone should reflect how good they are.

I should listen to them. Should. But the more I do, the farther I feel from the girl who hired them in the first place.

That Lena didn’t know what she was getting into. That girl is in well over her head.

Marguerite leans in, whispering as though we aren’t alone. “I’ll see what I can do about your crystals. Now, go change. And don’t screw up my pins.”

“Or stab myself?”

“Yes. That too. Wouldn’t want to get blood on such a fabulous piece.”

I laugh as she retreats to her office and closes the door, giving me the privacy I don’t always receive during these types of fittings.

My phone continues to buzz, but I’m much too eager to pull my leggings and oversized t-shirt back on.

Decker’s shirt from last night, to be specific.

The cotton was too worn and soft for me to give it up.

I shimmy out of my costume, lay it across the tufted velvet couch nearby, and pull on my clothes.

My bangs fall in my eyes, and I make a mental note to get them trimmed soon, but why wait for someone else to schedule it for me?

I can book online right now. My phone buzzes in my palm, sending tingles through my hand, up my arm, and straight into my belly when I see the name blowing up my screen. Decker.

When I open our chat, I’m lost. And then I scroll up and see my cleavage.

My stomach falls out of the bottoms of my size eight feet.

In my hurry, I didn’t check which chat I clicked on.

Joss didn’t get the photo I snapped. Decker did.

It fills my screen, taunting me, taking our chat from barely there and G-rated to a whole new meaning of “barely there” and at least a rating of PG-13.

Because I’m a masochist—apparently—I reread our texts, scrolling past my suggestive picture with burning cheeks.

Me

Do you like?

Decker

I always like what I see when I look at you

But speaking strictly as your boyfriend, I’d say I need to see this get up in person to give a thorough review

A blush spills across my face, radiating warmth through my chest. I don’t know if I should be flattered or freaked out.

Sure, he saw me in a towel last night, and yeah, we shared a kiss.

A really hot kiss. But this feels so personal .

Intentional. Even though it was an accident, I can’t help but want to play along.

I take a deep breath, preparing a response, debating how far I should push it.

I settle on something flirty but mild. If this ends in embarrassment, at least I know the new direction my team is taking my image and costumes is effective.

Besides, if I truly do want Decker, I need to feel this out.

Mustering all of my audacity, I let my fingers fly, and press send.

It doesn’t take long for him to respond.

Me

That could be arranged.

Decker

Maleko rented out The Mule for his birthday tonight if you wanna join

Me

Is the bustier a requirement to attend?

Decker

You can wear whatever you want as long as I get to see you again

Am I flirting with my fake boyfriend? As wrong as I want it to feel, as much as I still want to hate Decker for the way he acted when we met, I know he isn’t a bad guy. In fact, he’s a really good guy. Maybe Cole was right. Maybe this is endgame.

My throat tightens when I realize that I’ve never considered that with anyone else before.

Not even Callum. Sure, I’d hoped we’d work out, but I never fantasized about something as menial as watching him from the stands.

Endgame. It sounds so final, and I immediately regret thinking it at all.

Endgame is for people in love, and I’m definitely not in love.

In like , maybe, but in love? Absolutely not.

My breaths become scarce, and I sit down and throw my head between my knees, counting and breathing.

Breathe in, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. Get ahold of yourself, Lena! These are all just dumb words that mean nothing. You’re flirting, not asking him to marry you. Calm yourself.

I suppose we’re far past the flirt-texting milestone, considering the whole kissing thing last night, but that was staged.

Me moving in on him was simply to cover both our butts.

Plus, technically, he’s the one who put his mouth on me first, right?

My heart flutters at the memory. I don’t know how I was expecting him to react, but a toe-curling kiss wasn’t it.

“Are you okay?” Antonia’s startled voice jolts me to my feet.

My mom stands behind her, poised per usual. “What are you doing?”

“Breathing exercises. Preparing for my session. Are we ready to go to that now? I didn’t know you’d be joining me today.” In fact, I’d hoped to have the studio to myself. There’s a few things I wanted to practice that I know they’d have opinions on, and I don't want to hear them.

“We wanted to discuss the direction we’re going with Decker. So far, everything we’ve implemented has worked out as planned,” Antonia says calmly.

My mother’s calm falters for a moment as the excitement fizzes out of her. “Have you seen the headlines this morning?”

I shake my head.

She nudges Antonia who pulls out her trusty tablet. “ Pop Queen’s New King. ” She scrolls again. “ Decker Trace: King of Lena Lux’s Heart. The Player and the Pop Star: The Greatest Love Story of the Season.”

“That all sounds a bit dramatic,” I say.

“Say what you will, but it proves the strategy is already working,” my mother says through a tight grin.

Antonia clears her throat, her tawny finger prodding her tablet. “We do want to give you both a little more time together in the spotlight; however, we don’t want to drag this out too long. We want to finish on a high note.”

“I hardly think a breakup is ever perceived as a ‘high note,’” I say dryly.

Her eyes narrow behind her thick-framed glasses. “Let me rephrase that. We want to finish with a bang . In this case, I think it’d be best if you two end it the same way you started it.”

“How we started?” I ask.

“Online. A breakup announcement at the pinnacle of your new relationship will completely flood all of the searches. I think we may be able to completely drown out any leftover rumblings about the whole music hall thing.” Antonia taps across her screen.

“We have yet to notify Jason, but at this point, Decker’s gotten what he signed up for, so I think they’ll both let us carry the rest of this out as we see fit. ”

“What he signed up for?” My brows crinkle. I feel so lost.

“His brand deal. Just between us, he was hoping for something with Vital Reign, and his call came in this week. They’ve reinstated his offer to be their first male spokesmodel.”

“Oh. Right.” I try not to sound completely clueless, but I’m not sure I’m fooling anyone.

She nods as my mother finally chimes in. “I think they were secretly hoping he’d bring you along for a photo shoot, but they’d never be able to pay enough to get you into their ads.” She cackles and Antonia titters back.

I nod along like I’m not a little insulted he never mentioned this to me.

Why didn’t he tell me? Maybe I was misreading things, but I thought we were at least close enough to discuss our deal together.

What else do fake boyfriends and girlfriends talk about when they aren’t accidentally sending semi-nudes and pretend-kissing each other?

A tablet lands in my lap and I pick it up, staring at the screen. Vista City Victory Gala: For the people who help our city win. “I didn’t think I was going this year. It’s the weekend I’m supposed to be in Florida. To see Dad.”

My mother clucks. “We can fly him here. It’s important that you and Decker are seen together in public in a big way before calling it quits. We want everyone to fall in love with the idea of the two of you. Your posts online have done well so far, but we’ve skimped on the appearances aspect.”

“I don’t want dad to fly here. I want to go home. It’s his birthday,” I argue.

“Lena, did you not hear anything I said?” My mother’s pert nose turns red.

“We can fly him here if you insist on seeing him. Vista City is a much better birthday destination than that dilapidated town anyway. You and Decker will go to this event, you’ll be happy and in love, and then soon after, you’ll pull the plug on the whole thing. ”

“It really is brilliant. I couldn’t have come up with it all on my own.

” Antonia beams at my mom. “Not only will everyone be blindsided that a happy couple is splitting—obviously amicably; we’ll work out those details later—but it’ll swamp the sports forums too.

Everyone will be freaking out about whether or not it’ll ruin the Kings’ Super Bowl chances.

That is, if the Kings make it to the playoffs and beyond, as projected. ”

Everything boils inside, coming to a head. I stand, too caught up in my mother changing my plans, forgetting about the tablet in my lap. Antonia snatches it right before it hits the ground. “I know you don’t want to see Dad, Mom, but I do. I’m not letting you take this from me.”

“We wouldn’t have to do it this way if you hadn’t screwed everything up, Lena.

” My mother steps forward, pointing a sharp nail in my direction.

“When you stop being so determined to ruin your reputation, then we can talk. But you’re doing this.

I’ll notify your father tonight. We’ll have someone arrange his flights immediately. ”

I chew my lip, clamping down on any unsavory words that have cropped up. Without another word, I turn and leave, sending Gustav a text to let him know I’m ready to go to the studio.

“I wasn’t finished,” my mother tries, but I keep moving.

Distance is the only thing that can shut her up for now. I don’t want to think about my ruined plans or losing Decker. I’m not sure what my mom and her sidekick’s plans were, but I don’t care. It’s been too long since I’ve seen my dad, since I’ve been home.

I open Decker’s chat, and though I’d like to ask him why he didn’t tell me about Vital Reign, I know I’ve got secrets too.

Ones he’ll find out soon enough, like the fact that we now have a finite date for when this facade will come to an end.

Without thinking, I text him something rambly about being stuck at the studio for the rest of the night.

Which means no karaoke. Do I want to be trapped at the studio?

No. But at least I can lock myself in a soundproof box there.

And right now, I don’t want to hear anything but the music I’ve dedicated my entire life to.

The only steady, unchanging thing, it seems.