Diana still questioned why she ever agreed to get involved with Adam Stone. Yet here she was again, sitting across from him in a hospital cafeteria, of all places, scheming the details of their fake love story.
"So… we've been secretly dating?" she asked carefully. "Will people even believe that?"
"It's not hard to believe," he replied in a serious tone. "We went to the same school for years. We crossed paths at events, parties. It's easy to sell the idea that we've had something going on for a while."
"For how long, exactly?" she pressed.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does matter. What if someone asks?"
"Then say it's been on and off for years."
She opened her mouth to protest—but then stopped short. Realization flickered in her eyes.
"It's because of your dating history, isn't it?"
Adam, mid-sip of his coffee, slowly lowered the glass, his gaze sharpening. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, if we want to make this believable, it makes sense. With your reputation… an on-and-off relationship is the only explanation. You've been linked with so many women, people would wonder how I fit into the timeline."
He didn't look amused. "Believe whatever you want. The point is—we're getting engaged in a month. Saying we just started dating would raise too many questions."
"I still don't think the press will buy it. They follow you around like vultures."
"They will—if we convince them."
"And how exactly do we do that?"
He leaned forward slightly. "That depends on your act."
"My act?" she echoed, narrowing her eyes.
"You'll need to act like you're in love with me. Leave the rest to me. Can you do that?"
"I have to act like I'm in love with you?"
He nodded. "Yes."
Diana sighed. "I'm not going to be some clingy, lovesick girl," she said firmly. She prided herself on her independence—unlike the women Adam usually dated.
He smirked. "I don't need you to cling. I need you to let me touch you in public. Don't flinch when I do. Will you let me?"
She stared at him for a long beat. The idea made her skin crawl. She hated public displays of affection. But if they were going to pull this off, she didn't have much of a choice.
"Fine," she muttered. "It's not like I have a choice, right?"
His smirk widened. "Exactly."
She shot him a glare. That look on his face made her want to wipe the smugness off with a slap. He was enjoying this far too much.
Later, at Adam's penthouse
Standing in front of his penthouse door, Diana took a deep breath. Today was the day they'd make their relationship "public." With her father under the nurse's care for the day, she had no more excuses.
She pressed the bell, expecting Adam. But when the door opened, it wasn't him.
"Travis?" she said, surprised.
Adam's friend looked just as surprised to see her. Travis Collen—one of the infamous "Elite Five." F Magazine had dubbed them that years ago: Adam and his four best friends, rich, powerful, attractive. Practically untouchable.
"You're here to see Adam?" Travis asked.
She cleared her throat, schooling her voice. "Yes. This is his penthouse, right?"
"Right. But… why?"
What was she supposed to say? Hi, I'm here to fake a love story and become his fake fiancée? She settled for, "Curiosity kills, you know."
A deep voice answered behind Travis. "Curiosity will get the cat killed."
Adam stepped into view, his gaze flicking from Travis to her. "Come in."
Diana entered without another word, catching the way Travis's brows knit together in confusion as she passed him.
Inside, the other three members of the Elite Five were sprawled across the black leather sectional. Empty champagne bottles littered the coffee table. Ben and David looked barely conscious, while Andrew gave her the same stunned look Travis had.
"Ignore them," Adam murmured, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward a room. She didn't have to guess—it was his bedroom.
He shut the door behind them and released her hand.
"I thought we were starting the act," she said, clearly annoyed. "Not in front of your entire social circle."
"This is perfect timing," he said. "We need to fool them too."
"You're not going to tell them this is fake?"
"No. The fewer people who know, the better."
"But they're your friends."
"Friends or not, I don't share everything. Neither should you."
He stepped closer. On instinct, she backed away—straight into the wall.
"What are you doing?" she asked warily.
"I'm about to tell them we're engaged. And you're coming out of my bedroom. We're supposed to be madly in love, remember?"
She blinked. "You mean… we're pretending something happened?"
"Exactly. If we walk out there looking completely untouched, they'll never believe it."
"You want me to look like I've just been ravished?" she asked, aghast.
"Not naked," he said with a low chuckle. "Just… disheveled. Subtly. Enough to suggest intimacy."
He reached for the top buttons of her red blouse, undoing two. Her cleavage showed more now.
"Stop," she protested, pushing lightly at his chest.
He didn't move, just looked into her eyes—dark blue, unreadable.
He reached up, thumb brushing against her bottom lip, smudging the red lipstick away.
"Do you want me to actually ravish you?" he asked softly.
"No," she replied, hating how weak her voice sounded.
"Then this is the best alternative." He untied her ponytail, letting her long, curly black hair fall around her shoulders. His fingers lingered longer than necessary.
"Now you look the part," he murmured, voice low and rich.
"Satisfied?" she said through gritted teeth.
"Very."
She narrowed her eyes at his still-perfect appearance. "What about you? You look freshly ironed."
He raised an eyebrow, then, with slow deliberation, unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, revealing sculpted abs beneath. All the while, he held her gaze.
She swallowed.
Trying to play it cool, she reached up and ran her fingers through his perfect hair, ruffling it.
Now he looked the part—a man loved and kissed by someone who couldn't resist him.
"Perfect," she said coolly, pretending not to notice the sudden heat rising in her cheeks.
"Shall we?" he asked, voice still velvet-smooth.
She turned toward the door. "Let's get this over with."
"As my lady wishes."