Page 138 of Faking the Pass
This was a disaster.
Elka crossed her hands over her heart. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re making me want to slide into my high school boyfriend’s DMs.”
We spoke for a few more minutes about his recent injury and recovery process and Elka’s Oscar wins, but honestly, I missed most of the conversation. My head and heart were in a tailspin.
Falling in love with my fake husband was the dumbest thing I could possibly do, but it seemed to be beyond my control at this point.
Because as artificial as that story had been fromhisend, I really had been in love with Presley my whole life.
I’d been kidding myself that I could marry him in name only and get through this experience without a shattered heart.
Now I was completely at his mercy, and when the end came, it might just do me in for good.
We started making our goodbyes, exchanging pleasantries with Elka about how lovely it had been to meet.
“Rosie, it really has been my pleasure,” she said. “I’ve had you in the back of my mind ever since seeing you in that play.You were green, but the talent was undeniable. I wanted to let you ripen a bit, but now that you’ve got a film under your belt, I’m thinking we should find a project to work on together.”
I nodded rapidly, my heart in my throat nearly choking me. “Yes. I would love that. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Even once we’d returned to the hotel, I still felt like I was in a daze.
The scary part was, meeting Elka and talking about working with her—something I’d literally dreamed about—wasn’t the most affecting thing that had happened tonight.
I kept reminding myself that Presley’s story hadn’t been true, but I was nervous around him in a way I hadn’t been since the first day on the island.
It felt like everything had changed in the past few hours, like I was in a speeding car with no brakes, heading for a ravine.
As we entered our hotel room, my eyes went to the bed, and my stomach performed a double somersault. I stepped out of my crystal stilettos and sighed, stretching my feet.
“Need me to help with your dress?” Presley asked.
“No, I—”
The response had been automatic. It was also wrong. With its elaborate back hooks, I’d never be able to escape this contraption on my own.
“Yes please,” I amended my answer. “I seem to have a habit of wearing impossible to maneuver dresses.”
“I’m happy to help you maneuver them,” Presley said and then chuckled. “Though I’m better at taking them off than putting them on.”
My pulse quickened, and liquid heat bathed the place between my thighs.
With my back turned to him, I took a breath and attempted to continue conversing normally.
“Thank you for everything you did tonight. Especially for making me suck it up and go talk to Elka. That was a life-changing conversation.”
In more ways than one.
“You’re welcome. It was my absolute pleasure,” he said. “I predict you’ll be hearing from her soon about making a movie together.”
“Well, she’d probably had a few drinks. I’m not sure she really—”
Presley turned me to face him, holding my shoulders. “No, Rosie. She was sincere. I could tell. She wants to work with you.”
My heart was pounding wildly now, whether from his touch or the delicious rasp of his voice here in the quiet room, I wasn’t sure.
“Only because you made me sound like such a dream to be around.”
His voice lowered, turning huskier. “You are a dream to be around.”
