CHAPTER 4 — LEARNING TO LIE

The first rule of pretending to love someone was simple. You had to know them well enough to lie.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Adrian looked at me. “I’ve been doing this for three hours.”

“And you’ve been doing it wrong for three hours.”

His jaw tightened. I tried not to smile.We were sitting in his private office with two cups of coffee between us, a notebook on my lap and six months of a relationship that had never existed spread across the desk.

Adrian pointed at the notebook.“What exactly am I doing wrong?”

“You’re answering like you’re in a business interview.”

“I am answering your questions.” He replied quietly.

“You’re supposed to sound like my boyfriend.”

“I am your boyfriend.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You’re a CEO pretending to be my boyfriend.”

He leaned back. “What’s the difference?”

“Everything.”

He stared at me. I stared back then he said, “Show me.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Show you what?”

“How I should behave.”

I closed my notebook. “Fine.”

I stood and walked around the desk. “First, stop sitting like you’re negotiating a merger.”

“I always sit like this.”

“Exactly.”

I reached for his arm. He stiffened. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You look like you’re about to fire me.”

“I don’t fire people during rehearsals.”

I rolled my eyes. “Put your arm around me.”

He looked at my hand on his sleeve then at me. “You’re serious?”

“Very.”

His arm moved slowly around my waist. My breath caught. I hated that he noticed.

His eyes flicked toward my face. “You stopped talking.”

“So did you.”

“I don’t usually have my assistant standing this close to me.”

“I’m not your assistant right now.”

His gaze held mine. “No.”

The word came out quieter than either of us expected.I stepped back first. “Good. Progress.”

He cleared his throat. “What else?”

“Learn something about me.”

“I know plenty.”

“Like?”

“You work too much.”

I frowned. “That’s not knowing me.”

“You worry about your parents.”

My expression changed. He noticed. “You don’t like asking for help.”

I looked away.

“And you pretend you’re fine when you’re not.”

I swallowed. “Anything else?”

He thought for a second. “You hate being late.”

“Correct.”

“You drink coffee without sugar.”

“Correct.”

“You bite your lip when you’re nervous.”

I froze. He looked at me. Neither of us spoke then I picked up my notebook. “Your turn.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My turn?”

“I need to learn you.”

“You already know me.”

“No. I know Adrian Hawthorne, CEO.”

“And?”

“I need to know Adrian.”

Something shifted in his expression. I waited. He finally said, “I don’t like crowds.”

I wrote it down.“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But you attend events all the time.”

“Because I have to.”

“What do you do when you’re alone?”

“Read.”

“What?”

“History. Business. Biographies.”

“That’s very boring.”

His eyebrow rose. “Careful.”

I smiled.“Favorite food?”

“Steak.”

“Everyone likes steak.” I whispered.

“I don’t.”

I looked up. “You just said.”

“I like pasta.”

“Then why did you say steak?”

“Because you asked quickly.”

I stared at him. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

I wrote it down. “Favorite dessert?”

“Lemon cake.”

I looked at him. “Your grandmother’s?”

He nodded.“That’s the only one I eat.”

Something about the way he said it softened me. “You really love her.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I could see it. His entire face changed whenever he spoke about Margaret.

It was the only subject that made the powerful Adrian Hawthorne look like someone’s grandson instead of New York’s most intimidating CEO.

I closed the notebook. “Now we need our story.”

He nodded.“We met at the charity dinner in June.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you were working that night.”

I blinked. He was right.

“I was?”

“You were with me.”

I looked at him. “Then where?”

He thought. “The Metropolitan Museum.”

I laughed. “You hate museums.”

“I don’t hate museums.”

“You told me once that looking at paintings for three hours made you want to leave civilization.”

“I said that?”

“Yes.”

“Then we met somewhere else.”

I smiled. “See? This is why we’re going to get caught.”

He leaned forward. “What do you suggest?”

“We need something ordinary.”

He looked confused. “Ordinary?”

“Yes. People remember dramatic stories. They believe ordinary ones.”

He waited. “We met at a coffee shop.”

“You don’t drink coffee from coffee shops.”

“I do when I’m not working.”

“You always work.”

“I didn’t before I met you.”

He studied me. “That sounds believable.”

“Exactly.” I pointed at him. “You walked into the coffee shop. You ordered something complicated. I laughed at you.”

“I don’t order complicated things.”

“You do now.” He smiled. “Then what did I order?”

I thought. “Something embarrassing.”

“Adriana.”

“Fine. A vanilla latte.”

“I hate vanilla.”

“Then you’ll have to learn to love it.”

He shook his head. I laughed. For the next two hours, we built a relationship that had never existed.

Our first meeting. Our first date. first argument.favorite restaurant. The first time he met my parents.

The first time I met his grandmother.The first Christmas gift he supposedly gave me.

The first time we said I love you. That one stopped us both. Neither of us spoke.

I looked down. “Maybe we don’t need that part.”

“We do.”

“Why?” I asked immediately.

“Because my grandmother will ask.”

I nodded. “Fine.”

I wrote it down. “You said it first.”

His eyes moved to mine. “Did I?”

“You’re the boyfriend.”

He leaned closer. “What did I say?”

I swallowed. “I love you.”

He watched me. “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say what I supposedly said.”

My heart beat faster. I looked down at my notebook. “You said, ‘I love you.’”

Silence then Adrian said softly, “That sounds convincing.”

I looked up. He was still watching me. Too closely. I stood abruptly.

“Let’s practice walking.”

“Walking?”

“Couples walk together.”

“We know how to walk.”

“Not like that.”

I moved toward the door. He followed. “Hold my hand.”

He did. Our fingers intertwined. A strange warmth moved through me. I told myself it was nothing.

Just nerves. Just the pressure of pretending.  the contract but when he squeezed my hand slightly, I looked at him. He was looking at me too.

For once, neither of us had an excuse then his phone rang. He released my hand.

The change was immediate.The softness disappeared. The CEO returned.He looked at the screen. His expression hardened.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“My head of security.” He answered. “Yes.” He listened then his eyes moved toward me. “What?” Another pause. “When?”

His grip tightened around the phone. “Don’t let anyone near her.”

My stomach dropped. He ended the call.

“What happened?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Someone accessed your personnel file.”

I felt cold. “My file?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“What did they take?”

“Your address.”

I stepped backward. My mind went straight to the photograph of my parents’ house.

Adrian saw my face. “They know where you live.”

I couldn’t speak. He moved toward me. “Adriana.”

I looked at him. “Am I in danger?”

His silence answered before he did. “We’re going to assume you are.”

My phone buzzed. I looked down. Unknown number.A message.

You look good together.

My fingers went cold. Another message appeared.

Let’s see how long the fake love lasts.

I showed Adrian. His face became unreadable then his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen.

It was a message from his grandmother. For a moment, he said nothing.

“What?”

He turned the phone toward me. I read it.

Christmas dinner is officially a celebration of Adrian and Adriana.

My stomach dropped. Adrian read the rest then he looked at me.

“She’s invited the entire family.”

“How many people?”

“Everyone.”

I swallowed. “Everyone?”

He nodded. “Thirty seven people.”

I stared at him. “We’re going to have to convince thirty seven people we’re in love.”

Adrian’s gaze dropped briefly to our still linked hands then back to my eyes. “That’s not the worst part.”

“What is?”

He turned the phone around again. There was another message from his grandmother.

And I’ve prepared a surprise for Adriana.

My heart sank. “What surprise?”

Adrian’s expression tightened. “I don’t know.”

I looked at him. For the first time since this began, he looked genuinely worried.

And somehow, that frightened me more than the anonymous messages ever could.