Page 9 of Faking It with the Ice Queen

Aunt Lucy snorted, clearly failing at holding back the laughter.

“It’s not funny, Aunt Lucy! The king bed was freaking decorated withrose petals! I mean, it’s ridiculous. And when I asked Elara if we could request a different room, she refused. She says it would be weird for a couple to request a room change for one with two beds. And I mean, she’s not wrong, but this is soawkward.”

Grace sighed, the adrenaline and anxiety finally starting to subside after voicing her thoughts.

With a barely veiled giggle, Aunt Lucy replied, “This trip just gets more and more amusing. I feel like I should get a bag of popcorn for all these updates.”

“Aunt Lucy, it’s not funny!”

At this, Aunt Lucy lost control and busted out in a hearty laugh. Unable to resist the warmth of her laugh, Grace found herself laughing too.

“Okay, fine. It’s a little funny. But what am I supposed to do?”

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Aunt Lucy paused. “I’m not sure you do anything, Grace. It’s not as if you haven’t shared a bed with your friends throughout your life. This is no different from that, right?”

Grace interrupted, “It’sverydifferent, and you know it. She’s not my friend; she’s my boss and she barely talks to me.”

Lucy rebutted, “No, she isn’t your friend. But the two of you have to at least pretend to like each other for a week. Maybe sharing a bed will help break that icy exterior. I mean, you can’tnottalk to someone after sharing a bed with them. This could be a good thing. Try not to overthink it, dear. You are impossible not to love. I’m sure she will start to warm up to you soon enough.”

Grace felt the impact of Aunt Lucy’s advice and began to acknowledge she was right. Maybe this was a good thing after all.

“You’re right. Thank you. I think I just needed to talk it out. I’m sorry for calling this late and dropping all of that on you.”

“It’s never too late to call me, Grace. You’ve got this. Now, go enjoy your paid vacation. I’m here anytime you need to talk again.”

Grace entered the suite cautiously, the soft click of the door closing behind her louder than she intended. Elara was already settled on the bed, propped up against a mountain of perfectly arranged pillows, wearing fine silk pajamas that shimmered in the dim light. Her iPad rested on her lap, and the soft tapping of her fingers on the screen suggested she was in the middle of something important. Grace hesitated by the door, her breath catching. Gathering her wits, she reminded herself that this was for the job. She was going to prove she belonged here.

“Do you need help arranging anything for tomorrow?” Grace asked, trying to sound professional, though her voice wavered slightly.

Without looking up, Elara murmured, “I just need you to play your part.”

The words stung, even though Grace told herself not to take them personally. She gave a terse nod, though Elara never glanced her way. Grace rummaged through her suitcase, finding her pajamas—a bright pink pair of pants and a cropped, fuzzy sweater. She stared at them for a second, realizing they werecomicallyinappropriate for this kind of setting.

There was no way she was changing in front of Elara.

Clutching the clothes, Grace ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a sigh of relief. As she pulled on the soft pajamas, she tried to convince herself they weren’tthatbad. Who cared if they screamed “slumber party” when she was trying to survive a week at a luxury resort masquerading as someone’s girlfriend? She gave herself one last look in the mirror, shrugged, and headed back out into the bedroom.

Elara didn’t react at first. But as Grace shuffled toward the bed, Elara’s gaze flickered up from her iPad. There was nocomment, no raised brow—just the slightest pause that made Grace feel underdressed in the most spectacular way.

Gathering what little courage she had left, Grace sat down on the edge of the king-size bed, her back rigid. Elara reached over, calmly switched off the lamp on her side, and lay down with her back to Grace without a word.

For a moment, Grace stared at Elara’s silhouette. She seemed so distant, her back a wall that Grace couldn’t breach, even if she tried—not that she really wanted to. Eventually, Grace sighed, slid under the covers, and curled up on the farthest edge of the mattress.

Despite the size of the bed, she still felt too close, like her presence alone might disturb Elara. Determined to keep her distance, Grace pressed herself toward the edge, her toes hanging off the side. She squeezed her arms around her chest, as if holding herself small enough would make this whole situation less surreal.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

Hours later, she awoke with a jolt, falling headfirst off the bed. Her limbs tangled in the sheets as she landed with a thud and knocked over the bedside lamp.

“Shit!” Grace hissed, scrambling to free herself from the suffocating mess of fabric.

Elara shot upright, her hair tousled, blinking in the darkness. “Grace?”

“I’m sorry!” Grace gasped, finally untangling her foot from the blanket. The shattered remains of the lamp glimmered ominously on the floor.

Elara sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “It’s fine. Just…don’t worry about it.”

Grace froze, mortified. “Are you sure? I’ll pay for the lamp?—”

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