Page 90 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

I feel a surge of frustration, not at Chase but at the image I’ve cultivated for so long. “That’s just sex,” I say soberly. “You think any of those women made me see a future like my parents have?No way. They want to fuck the King of Christmas. Your creation. Not me.”

She goes quiet. Chase starts to say something then stops. It’s clear she’s torn and doesn’t trust me. And I’m struggling to find a way to get her there.

“Chase,” I say, my voice steady and sure as I step closer. “I’ve given you a million reasons to doubt me. My reputation, the tabloids, the never-ending line of women—I know. But that’s not who I am anymore. That’s not the man I want to be.”

“Ethan, we can’t—”

“Why not?” I interrupt, sitting next to her. “I know you feel it too. This connection between us. It’s not only physical. It’s way more than that.”

She shakes her head, but it’s easy to see she’s wrestling with herself. “It’s complicated. We work together. There’s too much at stake.”

“I know this campaign didn’t hit the mark,” I say, attempting to find common ground. “But it’s not over yet. I understand you’re upset, but—”

“Upset?” Chase’s voice rises. “I’m way more than upset. If we lose our jobs, you’ll be fine. You’ll land another acting gig. You have family, your friends—people who care about you.” Her voice cracks on the last words, and it breaks my heart. “This job, these movies—it’s all I have. I’ve sacrificed everything for it.”

“There are people trying to care for you,” I argue softly. “Let them in.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You can’t control how other people feel about you.”

Her eyes flash to mine, sharp enough to draw blood. “The hell I can’t. I’ve spent my whole life controlling exactly who gets close. I don’t let things in that can hurt me. Not disappointment. Not distraction.” Her voice catches. “And especially not you.”

“You don’t mean that.” I lean forward, desperate to get past her defenses. “I know you’re scared, but—”

“This is over.” Her words slice through me like a blade. “I need my life back. Before you made me want things I can’t have. Before you made me feel—” She swallows hard. “Just stop pretending to care. Your fake concern hurts worse than when you hated me.”

I slide closer, my hand hovering over hers. For the first time in my life, I’m fucking terrified of saying the wrong thing. Every script, every smooth line, and every charming response—useless. I want her to direct me in this scene and tell me how to fix this.

Our hands finally connect, and her eyes fill with tears. Before I can think, I pull her into my arms. For one perfect moment, she melts against me, and I think maybe—just maybe—I’ve gotten through to her.

Then she’s gone, retreating to the far corner of our cell and leaving me cold.

“No. I trusted your promises that you had everything under control. You were either lying or delusional. It doesn’t matter which.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I should have known better. Trusting you was a mistake. I’ll fix this myself. I’m done talking.”

She turns away, but not before I see tears spilling down her cheeks.Fuck.She’s right—I failed her. Made promises I didn’t keep, too caught up in my own cockiness to take her fears seriously. Every time she voiced her concerns about the subscribers dwindling, I brushed them off with a smile. I already have other acting opportunities coming in, but Chase stands to lose everything she’s worked for.

Her controlled breathing echoes through our cell, each careful breath a knife to my chest. Watching her pull further away, convincing herself she’s better off alone—knowing I caused it—it’s destroying me. Because this woman, this beautiful, fierce, broken woman, is everything I never knew I needed.

And I’m losing her because I couldn’t deliver on the one promise that mattered.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Chase

“Ethan! Is it trueyour whole relationship is fake?” a paparazzo shouts.

The police station door clangs shut behind us. Instant chaos. A mob swarms. Camera flashes explode. Voices roar from every direction. My heart hammers against my ribs. It’s hard to breathe. I can’t think.

The madness has me aching to crawl back into that cell, even after a night of choking on tears and painful silence.

Ethan’s powerful arm tightens around me, and I don’t shake him off. His body is a fortress against the increasingly hostile crowd. Aggressive shouting and shoving bombard us as we fight our way through the swell of the mob.

More questions—a jumble of curiosity, accusations, and vicious slander.

“Why were you arrested?”

“Chase! Tell us. Is he blackmailing you?”

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