Page 15 of It's Not All Fake

Instead, I hold her gaze and answer the reporter's question. "Being with Chloe felt genuine," I say. "I can't imagine being with anyone else." The moment stretches between us, unexpectedly intimate despite the crowd around us.

“Excuse us,” I cut off Susan before she can ask anything more. I grab Chloe’s hand and lead her inside the movie palace. I say brief hellos to a few friends we pass before we take our seats in the auditorium.

I watch Chloe as she looks around in awe, her lips parted. An ornate chandelier illuminates the spectacular ceiling with a starburst design encircled by dragons and other Chinese characters. Oriental murals are illuminated between intricately carved marble columns flanking the auditorium.

The theater is stunning, but I take advantage of the moment to watch Chloe. She is exquisite, her green eyes taking in the space, her brown hair swept up into a sophisticated twisted low bun that reveals her long, beautiful neck. She notices me staring after a minute and smiles nervously, the dimple in her right cheek making an appearance.

“Thank you for bringing me. This is amazing.”

I smile, aware that most of the night has been painfully uncomfortable for her so far. “You’re a good sport.” I take her hand in mine again and notice her surprise. She glances around at others taking their seats. The lights are still up, and eyes are on us. She exhales, as though realizing our audience is the reason for my affection. Of course, it is.

“Well, I may not be such a good sport when I duck out of the movie,” she warns. “I don’t love scary movies.”

I grin, amused. She isn’t afraid to confront people’s real demons in her coaching, yet she can’t stomach pretend bad guys?

"I'll keep you safe, don't worry," I reassure her. Though my tone is playful, I mean it sincerely. I've hurt her before, and I have no intention of doing it again. This might be business, but I want her to feel comfortable.

As I hold her hand tighter, we lock eyes, and I feel an undeniable pull towards her. Neither of us looks away, and the moment feels charged with something I can't quite explain, but I know I like it.

The theater lights suddenly go dark as the screen illuminates. If this were a real date, I'd kiss her right now. Instead, I settle back into my seat. I can't allow myself to cross that line with her, or at least, not too far.

This is business, I remind myself. It can be fun, but not too much fun. The last thing I need is for Chloe to develop feelings for me and start expecting something more.

As the production company’s logos flicker across the screen, accompanied by ominous piano music, I become acutely aware that I'm still holding Chloe's hand. I can feel her tensing up, bracing herself for what promises to be another uncomfortable ninety minutes.

I should let go, but I don't.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHLOE

Liam pulls me into the elevator. His hand has been in mine almost all night, and when he suddenly lets go, I feel a surprising pang of disappointment.

I expect other party goers to join us, but the elevator door closes, leaving us alone together. An inexplicable flutter of nerves courses through me.

He faces me, leaning against the gold railing on the back wall of the fancy wood-paneled elevator, softly lit by sconces. He looks effortlessly classy in his suit and tie, and the spicy scent of his cologne draws me closer to him. The faint scar etched on his temple catches my eye again, making me wonder about the past wounds that have led him to keep people at a safe distance.

Yet, the distance between us doesn’t feel particularly safe right now. In this confined space, his proximity stirs an unexpected thrill of anticipation within me.

“We only need to make an appearance,” he murmurs in a low voice. “Then we can leave.”

To our separate residences, I assume. But as I search his warm brown eyes, I find myself wondering if he has something more in mind. My thoughts have been swirling all night, wondering.

His whisper in my ear, telling me I’m beautiful. His fingers laced through mine in the dark theater… Those moments had no audience; they were just between us.

Tonight is all about thrills and fantasy, and perhaps we’re simply playing our roles a little too well. Surely, that’s it.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Liam reaches out to my bare shoulder. “Your strap is about to fall off.” His fingers caress my skin lightly as he pushes my dental-floss thin shoulder strap higher up.

I cannot breathe. He doesn’t break eye contact with me. I stare up at him, only inches away, and the tension is palpable.

I want him to push me up against the wall and kiss me. The thought enters my mind, unbidden and highly inappropriate.

But the elevator dings, snapping me back to reality. I’ve clearly watched too many chick flicks, I rationalize.

Liam steps back and takes my hand again, leading me out of the elevator onto an expansive rooftop terrace. I hear the beat of sexy pop music and the murmur of people mingling.

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