Page 88 of Faking the Shot
Oh God, Kaden.
The thought of him sends a fresh wave of panic crashing over me. What is he doing right now? Is he freaking out too? Punching a wall? Or worse—scrolling through social media and feeding the fire with one of his infamous snarky comments?
I groan and flop back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might offer some divine intervention. “Pull it together, Valentina. You’ve handled worse than this.”
Have I, though?
I grab my phone and pull up Kaden’s number, my thumb hovering over the call button. Before I can talk myself out of it, I hit dial.
He answers on the second ring, his voice low and exasperated. “Let me guess. You’ve seen it.”
“Seen it? Kaden, it’s everywhere. My phone is blowing up like I just won the lottery and lost it all in the same day.”
“Relax,” he says, like it’s that simple. “It’s not that bad.”
“People know we faked it,” I snap, pacing like a caged animal. “This is not going to fix your image. It’s like all our hard work has gone down the drain. Do you know what that does to my career? To your career?”
“I know what it does to my sanity,” he says. “If my career is over, I don’t give two fucks. Not even a little. You, on the other hand—I do worry about you and yours. So what if they’re sayingthis is fake? Fake was a few months ago. Now it’s . . . well, real, I think?”
“Umm . . .” The words stick in my throat, tangled up with questions I’m not ready to face. Is it real?
He lets out a long sigh, and I can practically feel the tension radiating from him through the phone. He’s probably running a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his jaw. “Look, Val. What’s done is done. We need to figure out our next move.”
I stop mid-pace, clutching the phone like it’s the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. “Our next move? There’s no we here, Kaden. I have to fix this, or I’m going to be blacklisted by every client who doesn’t want to be associated with a PR scandal.”
“Which is why we need to stay ahead of the story,” he counters, his voice firm, no room for argument. “We can’t let the media control the narrative.”
I groan, flopping back onto the couch in defeat. “Do you have any idea how hard that’s going to be? Half the internet thinks we’re frauds, and the other half thinks we’re in some kind of secret enemies-to-lovers situation.”
Kaden’s quiet for a beat, then lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Enemies to lovers? That’s a new one.”
“This isn’t funny, Kaden,” I snap, heat rising to my cheeks.
“I’m not laughing,” he says, though the smirk in his voice is undeniable. “I’m just saying . . . maybe we use that.”
I blink, sitting up straighter. “What do you mean, use that?”
He hesitates, then sighs like he’s about to pitch something ridiculous. “If people think we’re enemies who fell for each other, maybe we let them. It’s messy, sure, but it’s also interesting. People love a good redemption arc. Think about it—hotheaded hockey player falls for his no-nonsense publicist. It’s a Hallmark movie waiting to happen.”
I stare at my phone, my jaw slack with disbelief. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he admits, unapologetic. “But do you have a better idea?”
I hate that he has a point.
“Fine,” I mutter reluctantly. “But if we’re doing this, we need to look the part.”
“Already ahead of you,” he says, and I can hear the smug grin in his voice. “Just tell me where and when, and I’ll show up with my best ‘lovestruck idiot’ face. I mean, I am in love with you, baby. It’s just a matter of wearing you down and convincing you I’m worth sticking around.”
His words hit me like a rogue wave, knocking the air out of my lungs. My mind spins, trying to process the casual confidence with which he says something so . . . big.
I mean, we were heading in that direction but in love? Is he? Am I even close?
“You better be Oscar-worthy with that ‘lovestruck idiot’ face, Crawford,” I kid, trying to keep my tone light.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he replies, his voice a low drawl. “It comes naturally. You’ll see.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
