Page 22 of The Fake Date Deal

I’ll keep you safe.

CHAPTER 9

EVE

Iheld up my red dress, my new Valentino. I’d bought it for a night just like this one, a night at the opera, out being seen. It brought out my eyes and the lines of my body, but was it the dress? For our debut? This would be my first real date with Marco. Our big chance to shine in tomorrow’s tabloids. The whole world would see us and judge how we looked, our chemistry as a couple, our look. Our feel. If we felt right, we’d be social media’s sweethearts. If we felt wrong, we’d be my rebound drama. My dress tonight mattered, so… red or blue?

I held up the blue one, then the red one again. Both were fine. Both were gorgeous. Neither was blowing my mind. Maybe the red one, with the right shoes…

My phone buzzed on the bed. I frowned and ignored it. Then the room phone rang on the nightstand. I answered it, thinking it might be Marco. Maybe he was running late at the track.

“Marco?”

“Miss Hansley? This is the front desk. You have a guest, Gabriella Hansley. Shall I send her up?”

My sister — perfect! “Yeah, send her up.” She’d settle my dress dilemma. She always did.

Two minutes later, the two of us were hugging, and then she squeezed past me into our suite. She flopped down on the bed, on top of my dresses.

“No, no, don’t crush that! It’s Valentino!”

Gabriella rolled half off my dress and tugged it free. She shook out the wrinkles and held it up to the light. “You going to a party?”

“No, to La Scala.” I took in her own rumpled appearance. “What are you doing here? Did you just fly in?”

Gabriella gaped at me like I’d said something weird. “Well, duh. Of course I did. You’re all over the news.”

I blinked. “The news? Oh, you mean socials?”

“No, the news-news.” Gabriella sat up. “That wreck at the autodrome’s been on since last night. And of course, your comment.” She held up her phone. I winced at the sight of my own scared, pale face, my eyes round as saucers as I spoke to the press. Gabriella thumbed her phone off and hopped off the bed. “I had to drop in and make sure you’re okay.”

I laughed. “Of course I am.”

“Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Gabriella sidled up behind me and put her chin on my shoulder. “Because that driver got hurt, and it could’ve been your man.”

I shook her off. “Marco’s not my man.”

“Then why are your clothes all spread over the bed?” She picked up a silver dress, then a gold-flecked one. “Looks to me like you’re trying to impress him.”

“Not him. The public. Rafael.” I held up my blue dress. “What about this one?”

“Too sparkly. It’ll draw focus away from your smile. And forget about Rafael. What’s up with Marco?”

“What’s up with him? Nothing.” I pulled another garment bag out of the closet. “This was your idea, remember? Live my best life. Make Rafael jealous.”

“Yeah, for one dance. Not whatever this is. Are you trying to tell me you’re fully fake dating? All of this, all of it’s about Rafael?”

“Marco can’t stand him either. He’s a dick on the track. We’re going to keep dating until their next race, keep Rafael rattled so he’s off his game.”

Gabriella frowned at the white dress I’d pulled from the bag. “That doesn’t sound like you, that kind of spite. And that’s not you, either. Come on, let’s go shopping.” She snatched the dress from me and tossed it on the bed.

Next thing I knew, we were boutique-hopping, trying on dresses in store after store. I needed the perfect look, something fresh. Something stunning. Something unforgettable without being gaudy, sexy not slutty, fun but adult. Sparkly and bold, but not cheap, with sequins. Something mysterious, but still revealing. Pretty but dangerous. Couture, but not snobby.

Gabriella threw up her hands in our ninth or tenth store. “What was wrong with that last one, the one with the buttons?”

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