Chapter 6

THE FIRST CONVERSATION. 

~ALEXANDRO'S POV~ 

I had to admit it—Lauren intrigued me. 

It wasn't just her hasty decision to rope me into her messy situation at the gala, though that had certainly grabbed my attention.

No, it was the vulnerability she tried so desperately to hide beneath her sharp words and stubborn act. 

She had no idea what she was doing, and yet she refused to back down. That kind of stubbornness was rare. Foolish, but rare. 

That was exactly why I found myself walking toward her, coffee cup in hand, as she lounged on a private corner of the resort's sun deck. 

She hadn't noticed me yet, too absorbed in her phone. The faint frown on her face suggested she was either plotting her next move or regretting the one she'd already made. 

"Still strategizing, or just basking in your latest success?" I asked, breaking the silence. 

Her head snapped up, her wide brown eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, she looked genuinely startled. 

"I wasn't—" She stopped mid-sentence, straightened her shoulders, and scowled. "Do you always sneak up on people like that?" 

"Only when they're too distracted to notice me," I smirked and held out the extra coffee I'd brought. "Here. You look like you could use it." 

She hesitated before accepting it, her fingers brushing mine briefly. "Thanks, I guess. But if you're here to lecture me, don't bother. I already know it was a terrible idea." 

"Which part? Lying about having a boyfriend, or choosing me as the poor soul to play the part?" 

Her glare intensified, but I caught the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips. 

"Both," she said dryly. "But you didn't have to agree, you know. You could've just said no." 

"True." I took a sip of my coffee, watching her carefully. "But where's the fun in that?" 

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Look, I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I wasn't thinking straight." 

"No argument there," I said, earning another scowl. "But what's done is done. The real question is, what's your endgame?" 

"My... endgame?" 

"Your plan," I clarified. "You can't honestly expect this charade to last without a strategy. People like your ex and his fiancée—they'll pick apart every inconsistency." 

Her expression faltered, and for the first time, she looked genuinely uncertain. 

"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I just wanted them to stop looking at me like I was pathetic. Like I was... less." 

Ah. There it was—the reason behind the desperation. 

"Well," I said, setting my cup down on the table, "if you're serious about this, we need to set some ground rules. A fake relationship is only as good as its execution." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Ground rules?" 

"Non-negotiable," I replied. "Think of it as damage control. Rule one: we stick to the same story, with no improvisation. You've already told your coworkers we're dating, so we need a believable timeline." 

"Okay," she said slowly. "How long have we been together?" 

"Six months," I said decisively. "Long enough to seem serious, but not suspiciously fast." 

She nodded, scribbling something in the notebook she'd pulled from her bag. 

"Rule two," I continued, "we'll need to spend time together in public. Convince people we're a real couple." 

Her pen froze mid-sentence. "Spend time together? Like... dates?" 

"Exactly," I said, ignoring the slight edge of panic in her voice. "Dinners, casual outings—things couples do." 

She groaned. "This is going to be a nightmare." 

"Not if you follow rule three," I said with a grin. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing." 

Her eyes narrowed. "And what if I don't trust you?" 

"Then this will fall apart," I said simply. "Your call, Lauren." 

For a moment, she looked like she might argue. But then she sighed and closed her notebook. 

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "I'll follow your rules." 

"Smart choice," I said, standing. "I'll text you later with a plan for our first public outing. Be ready." 

As I walked away, I couldn't help but smile. This was going to be interesting. 

~LAUREN'S POV~

By the time Alexandro left, I was more stressed than when he'd arrived. 

Ground rules? Public outings? A six-month backstory? This was spiraling out of control faster than I could keep up. 

I had expected Alexandro to begrudgingly play along, maybe keep his distance unless necessary. Instead, he'd taken charge, turning my hasty lie into a full-blown production. 

And the worst part? He seemed to enjoy it. 

I groaned and buried my face in my hands, replaying our conversation in my head. His confidence, his maddening smirk, the way he'd casually assumed I'd follow his lead—it was infuriating. 

But it was also... comforting. 

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. If I wanted to pull this off, I couldn't do it alone. And if anyone could sell this ridiculous charade, it was him. 

Still, that didn't mean I trusted him. 

My phone buzzed, and I reluctantly glanced at the screen. 

"Alexandro: Dinner tonight. 7 PM. Be ready."

I stared at the message, my stomach twisting uneasily. 

What had I gotten myself into? 

The restaurant Alexandro had chosen was exactly what I'd expected: elegant, upscale, and way out of my comfort zone. 

I felt out of place the moment I walked in, dressed in the nicest dress I'd packed but still feeling underdressed compared to the other customers. 

Alexandro was already there, waiting near the entrance with an air of casual confidence that made him impossible to ignore. 

"You're late," he said, his tone teasing. 

"By two minutes," I shot back, trying to sound more confident than I felt. 

"Two minutes is two minutes," he said with a smirk. "But I'll let it slide. This time." 

He offered me his arm, and I hesitated before taking it. The gesture felt strange, too intimate for two people who barely knew each other. 

But then I remembered the rules. Public appearances. Believable chemistry. 

I took a deep breath and looped my arm through his. 

The hostess led us to a table near the back, and I couldn't help but notice the curious glances we received from other diners. Alexandro didn't seem to care, his attention focused entirely on me. 

"So," he said once we were seated. "Ready to sell the illusion?" 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Do I have a choice?" 

"Not if you want this to work." 

The waiter arrived, and Alexandro ordered for both of us without hesitation. Normally, I would've been annoyed by the assumption, but the truth was, I was too nervous to argue. 

Once the waiter left, Alexandro leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made me squirm. 

"What?" I asked, self-conscious. 

"You're nervous," he said matter-of-factly. 

"I'm not nervous," I lied, folding my hands in my lap. 

He raised an eyebrow. "Lauren, if you're going to lie, at least try to make it convincing." 

"I'm not lying!" 

"Now you're just proving my point." 

I glared at him, but he only smiled, clearly amused. 

"Relax," he said, his tone softer. "I'm not here to make you uncomfortable. I just need to know you can handle this." 

"I can handle it," I said firmly, though my voice wavered slightly. 

"Good," he said, his smirk returning. "Because this is just the beginning." 

**************

Dinner passed in a blur of small talk and carefully orchestrated banter. 

Alexandro was annoyingly good at this, effortlessly charming and attentive in a way that made it easy to forget we weren't dating. 

By the time the waiter brought the check, I felt like I'd just survived a particularly intense interview. 

As we walked out of the restaurant, Alexandro slowed his pace, glancing at me thoughtfully. 

"You did well tonight," he said, surprising me. 

"Thanks, I guess," I said awkwardly. 

"But," he added, "you need to loosen up. If you're too stiff, people will notice." 

"I'm not stiff," I argued. 

"Right," he said with a chuckle. "Just keep telling yourself that." 

We stopped outside, and Alexandro turned to face me, his expression unusually serious. 

"Listen, Lauren," he said, his voice low. "If we're going to do this, you need to stop doubting yourself. No one's going to believe we're a couple if you don't." 

"I'm not doubting myself," I said defensively. 

"Yes, you are," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "And that's okay. Just don't let it show." 

I stared at him, unsure how to respond. For a moment, I thought I saw something vulnerable in his eyes, but it was gone before I could be sure. 

"Get some rest," he said, stepping back. "We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow." 

Before I could say anything, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone under the glow of the streetlights. 

As I watched Alexandro disappear into the night, a strange mix of emotions washed over me. 

Relief, because the dinner was over. Frustration, because he was right. And something else—something, I couldn't quite put into words. 

For the first time, I wondered if maybe—just maybe—this fake relationship wasn't going to be the disaster I'd expected. 

Of course, that didn't mean it was going to be easy. 

But as I headed back to my room, one thought kept echoing in my mind: 

This was only the beginning.