Alina
Julian stretches out a hand, standing outside the car. We’re parked with the line of cars just outside the red carpet, with bright flashes from paparazzi cameras going off.
My palm is sweaty, and I’m starting to lose the tiny courage that brought me all the way. I hesitate, glancing over his shoulder at the people walking the carpet.
Rich. Filthy wealthy. They look it. Not playing a part—like me in a dress I could never afford, even if I worked nonstop for a year and saved every last cent.
“You’re not chickening out, are you?” Julian murmurs.
I turn to him, my lashes fluttering quickly as I try to hide the truth.
He looks back and sighs dramatically, shaking his head.
Then he leans closer, his voice dropping. “If you think you don’t belong, then you’re wrong, Alina. I pr
