Page 10 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

I shift, still feeling uneasy. But at this point, I don’t see another way out.

“So, are we doing this?” Emily asks over the live stream.

Nate and I hesitate, exchange a look, and then we each nod.

“Looks like we are,” he states.

Rachel’s phone is already out. “Perfect. I’ve already prepared statements for tonight’s announcement.”

My stomach twists, nerves crawling up my spine. This is actually happening.

Nate must notice because he turns to me questioningly.

I return his look, tilting my head slightly. “Nate, are you sure about this?”

He squares his shoulders, meeting my gaze head-on. “What about you? Do you think we can actually pull this off?”

I hold his stare a second longer than necessary. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

He exhales, a resigned but determined look on his face. “Then let’s make them believe it.”

The Plaza’s grand ballroom glitters with camera flashes. My hand is tucked into Nate’s arm, and I’m hyperaware of every point of contact between us. We’ve spent the last hour practicing how to stand, look at each other, and tell our ‘story’ without hesitation.

“Just follow my lead,” I whisper through my practiced smile as another reporter approaches. After a few years in the industry, I can do press in my sleep.

“And here they are!” The reporter beams at us. “Hollywood’s newest celebrity couple. Tell us, how did you manage to keep this a secret for so long?”

Nate’s arm tenses slightly under my hand, but his voice is steady. “When something’s important to you, you protect it.”

I lean into him slightly. “We wanted time just to be us—alone and away from the spotlight.”

“And the proposal?” Another reporter chimes in. “Was it as romantic as we’re hearing?”

I turn to look up at Nate, channeling every rom-com I’ve ever watched. “Actually, it was perfect because it was simple. Just us, no pretense.”

Nate’s eyes meet mine, and something shifts in his expression. For a moment, he’s not just playing along—he’s selling it. His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face, and I feel my breath catch.

“When you know, you know,” he says softly, and damn if he isn’t good at this.

The reporters practically melt.

I plaster on the perfect Hollywood smile and grip Nate’s hand casually as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.

And then—without hesitation—he lifts our joined hands and presses a soft, lingering kiss to the back of my fingers.

It’s choreographed romance at its finest, and the crowd eats it up.

My pulse speeds up at the unexpected warmth of his lips against my skin, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I tilt my head toward him, letting our gazes lock for half a second longer than necessary. That’s all the cameras need to capture the perfect shot—two people utterly and completely besotted with each other.

Rachel will be thrilled.

“And the ring?” someone calls out.

I extend my left hand, showing off the stunning vintage diamond Rachel somehow procured in record time. “It was his grandmother’s,” I lie smoothly, the story we rehearsed flowing naturally. “Which made it even more special.”

Nate’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I have to remind myself this is all for show. He’s just playing his part, just like I am. But when he pulls me closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, “You’re amazing at this,” I can’t help but shiver.

“Tell us more about the proposal!” a reporter calls.

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