Page 58 of Perfectly Faked

She shakes her head. “Why would you worry about that? I’d rather have your honesty than have to guess what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “It’s easier when you think I’m a grizzly.”

Her lips twist into a smile. “Careful, Leo. You don’t want people finding out you’re secretly nice under that scowl.”

One of the assistants in wardrobe motions for us to follow her to the studio, where we meet Desmond, the director of today’s media frenzy.

“If it isn’t the happy couple.” Desmond smiles as he shakes our hands, his voice as polished as his tailored jeans and pristine cashmere sweater topped with a tailored blazer. He looks like he belongs at Fashion Week, not on a set for athletic wear. His eyes graze over us with an approving smile. “I see wardrobe worked their magic. You both look hot.”

Hot?I thought we were selling athletic wear, not lingerie. I look worriedly at Victoria.

“We’re going to start with some photos and then move into the lifestyle commercial in another room,” Desmond says. “Think natural interactions, lots of chemistry—like you’re madly in love and can’t keep your hands off each other.” He winks at us, his smile turning slightly wicked.

I blink. “Uh, what? I thought we were just taking a few pictures... as athletes.”

Desmond frowns. “Boring pictures? Uh, no. Boring pictures do not sell anything. Didn’t Robbie tell you? The goal is tosellthe love story. We’re not just offering our clothes. We’re selling connection, passion, and sexiness. You two are the face of those emotional reactions. We want fireworks exploding across the screen.”

Victoria’s face drains, and I can feel her tension from a mile away. “Fireworks?” she says.

“Yes, darling, fireworks,” Desmond says, showing off his perfect white teeth. “The kind that make people want what you have. I’m sure that won’t be hard for you two.” He flashes us another smile.

I’ve been trying to smother any sparks I have for Victoria ever since that last kiss. Turning on the “fireworks” will only make this flame impossible to put out.

Desmond nods at me. “You seem confident. I saw your photo shoot withThe Star Reportlast month. Those shirtless ones turned out amazing.”

“Uh, thanks,” I say, bristling under his praise. I was honored to be chosen for the magazine’s athlete profile, but I avoided looking at the final version, knowing the pictures weren’t really me. They were what peoplewantedto see—a version that’s been tweaked and edited.

Desmond elbows Victoria playfully. “I’m sure you enjoyed them, too.”

“Who wouldn’t?” she says with a strained laugh. “Half the women in America probably pinned them to their Pinterest boards.” Based on the way her smile wavers, she probably didn’t even see the magazine.

Desmond spots the photographer getting ready for the shoot and excuses himself. As soon as we’re alone, Victoria glances at me, her eyes wide. “So, um, how are we going to pull off fireworks?”

“You’re a figure skater. Aren’t you used to performing?” I ask.

“Performing, yes. Fireworks? No way,” she says. “I’m not naturally charming, like you.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve charmed your audience a hundred times on the ice.”

She shakes her head. “Acting isn’t the same as skating.”

“Then maybe take some pointers from that book you’re reading,” I suggest with a grin.

Her smile drops. “Were you snooping in my room?”

“Not intentionally. I saw it on your nightstand when I helped you to bed after trivia night. I was curious about it, so I read a few pages.”

Her eyes widen. “What part?”

“Wouldn’t be appropriate to say out loud. Unless you think it would help?” I lift an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” she says, her cheeks flaming as she looks away.

Even though it was only a kissing scene, it’s worth it to see her blush.

“Just curious—are those fictional fireworks the type you’re into?” I ask. “As your ‘boyfriend,’ I probably should know.”

She sets her hands on her hips. “That book wasn’t meant for you! And I take back what I said about you being charming.”

---