His fake fiancee

Jealous Adrian

The next morning Lila had a client call.

She was on her balcony, laptop open, in an oversized tee and Adrian’s jacket. Hair in a messy bun. Not glam. Not fiancée material.

Yeah the logo revisions are done, she said, laughing at something the client said. No, I can have it by Friday

The balcony door slid open.

Adrian. In a suit. Early. He stopped when he saw her.

Morning, she said, covering the mic. I’m working.

He nodded, poured coffee, and sat at the table across from her. On a call.

Ten minutes later, her client said, You sound cute when you’re stressed, Lila. Dinner to celebrate when we launch?

Lila froze. Uh

Adrian’s head snapped up.

She’s busy, Adrian said into the room. Not into his phone. Into her call.

The client went quiet. Oh. Sorry. I didn’t

Lila ended the call fast. Cheeks burning. You didn’t have to do that.

Adrian leaned back. Do what?

Answer for me. Like I’m yours.

His jaw ticked. Aren’t you? For the contract.

Right. The contract.

He stood, buttoning his jacket. Don’t take dinner with him.

Or what?

Adrian stopped at the door. Turned. Or I’ll show up. And I won’t be smiling.

Then he left.

That night, the client texted: rescheduling

And Lila got a new email from Adrian’s assistant:

Subject: Gala This Friday. Designer will contact you. Wear red.

Lila stared at the screen.

Possessive. Infuriating.

And her heart did that stupid traitor thing and fluttered.

To Be Continued