Page 77 of It's Not All Fake

“Not yet.”

“Liam, don’t protect her too much or she won’t trust you,” she advises gently.

I let her words sink in, knowing she’s right. I just don’t know where the line is.

Then, the doorbell echoes from the front of the house, making my heart race—she’s here.

I've instructed my staff that I'll be the one to answer the door.

My mother gives me a knowing smile. “Tell her everything.”

I get her hint—she isn’t just talking about the hack.

Damn. Here it goes.

As I open the door, Chloe looks up at me, her expression tinged with uncertainty, yet she is undeniably breathtaking. Her chestnut hair falls in perfect curls over her taupe long-sleeve dress that modestly brushes past her knees, paired with elegant white heels.

“Hi,” she greets softly, her beauty capturing me so completely that I find myself staring a moment too long.

“Can I come in?” she asks, her smile mercifully breaking through.

“Yes, please,” I say, stepping aside.

She moves to enter but pauses abruptly as a voice intercepts her. “You must be Chloe!” My producer catches her just inside the doorway, offering her a hand. Cathy’s demeanor is overly friendly but she's one of the best producers in town. “I’m Cathy Barron.”

I see Chloe’s smile falter as she shakes her hand. “Ms. Barron?” I know Chloe remembers Cathy interrupting us with phone calls when we were on the yacht.

“Oh, please, just Cathy.” She smiles, tossing her golden curls with a practiced charm. “Good luck tonight. They’re all ready for you.” She winks at Chloe, who looks like she wants to crawl into a hole. “Liam, I’m sorry I have to run, but everything’s set,” she says, giving my arm a squeeze. Chloe’s gaze locks on the touch, and I notice her wince at the gesture.

I shift away from Cathy. “Thanks for your help,” I say with a polite nod. Cathy offers a bright smile before slipping past Chloe out the door.

Chloe looks unsettled by the interaction, a trace of hurt in her eyes.

“Chloe, I—” I begin, wanting to ease her concern, but she shakes her head dismissively.

“This way?” she asks, not waiting for an answer, as she strides purposefully past me toward the brightly lit living room.

Surprised by her brisk pace, I hurry to keep up. “Do you want to talk first?” I suggest gently.

“No. This is what we should do, right?” She glances sideways at me, but her heels keep clicking across the floor.

“Yes,” I confirm, though I secretly wish we could have a moment alone to talk first. She seems determined to either face this head-on or simply get it over with—I suspect the latter.

We settle on the loveseat near the fireplace, and the reporter, Susan—who Chloe met at the movie premiere—takes a seat in the chair opposite us. I hope Susan’s familiar face makes this a little more comfortable for Chloe.

I gently take Chloe’s hand in mine. She turns to me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, followed by a shy smile before she looks away.

She’s distant. Something is wrong. I need to talk to her.

Before I can say anything, Susan begins the interview.

“Liam and Chloe, the media’s buzzing with rumors about your relationship,” Susan starts cheerfully. “Fake relationships, mixing business and pleasure—Liam, can you set the record straight? Was Chloe your life coach?”

I offer a smile. “No, I was referred to Chloe for life coaching, but we connected on a personal level first, and we never entered a coaching agreement,” I explain simply.

“Is that so?” Susan raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “Chloe, what stopped you from taking on Liam as a client?”

“Honestly, I could tell he wasn’t ready to do the work as a client.” Chloe lets out a light chuckle, her delivery smooth though I sense the underlying jab. Her acting skills have improved.

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