Twisted Lies: A Fake Dating Romance

One year later

I watched from backstage as Ayana, the hottest supermodel of the moment, strutted down the sidewalk. Her flawless dark skin glowed beneath the lights and provided the perfect contrast to the crowning piece of my collection: a striking purple dress that could be worn day or night depending on how it was accessorized.

The rest of the models followed behind her for the closing walk until they all exited the runway.

“Stella, go.” My new assistant Christy nudged me. “This is your time to shine!”

Right. I can do this.

I took a deep breath and walked out, tentatively at first, then more confidently as the applause intensified.

I took a bow, my skin warming with pleasure.

My first fashion show in Milan.

After dozens of sleepless nights, panic attacks, and fits of self-doubt, it was finally over and, based on the roar around me, a resounding success.

I couldn’t believe it.

I did it. A grin spread across my face. I did it!

It was hard to imagine that it’d only been a year since the official launch of Stella Alonso the brand. Its profile had skyrocketed in an astonishingly short time thanks to Bridget’s support, who wore at least one item by me at every public event, if possible. From her, whispers of the brand trickled into the other corners of Europe and then Hollywood where, in the most surreal of moments, I’d watched Kris Carrera-Reynolds walk down the red carpet wearing one of my designs.

Her husband, action movie star Nate Reynolds, won his first Oscar that night.

Since then, it’d been a steady upward climb.

Brady wasn’t my manager anymore since I’d stepped back from my personal accounts to focus on the brand, but I still talked to him often. I’d also become good friends with Lilah. She couldn’t make it tonight because of her own show, but she’d been instrumental in helping me get started.

I wasn’t naive enough to think my big wave would last forever, but I was going to ride the hell out of it while it did.

“Go, Stella!” A familiar voice rose above the din. “You kicked ass, babe!”

I searched through the crowd until my eyes landed on a cluster of familiar faces in the front row. My smile grew.

The room was packed with fashion insiders and celebrities, but the people I cared about most were right there in front of me.

Alex and Ava, who glowed with pregnancy. She was four months along, and her baby bump had just started showing.

Rhys and Bridget, who was regal as always in the blue Stella Alonso dress she’d made a cult hit.

Josh and Jules, who had shouted the kicked ass statement and looked like she was about to run onstage until Josh pulled her back.

And my family, whose beams of pride curled through my chest and settled there like a warm blanket. My mother, my father, my sister…they were all there.

Our relationship had come a long way over the past year. It wasn’t perfect, but what family was?

What mattered was that they’d showed up.

Finally, my gaze made it to the most important person in the room.

He draped across his chair in a spill of Italian wool and silk, so beautiful he could’ve modeled onstage himself had I designed menswear.

Christian didn’t holler and cheer like everyone else, but the curve of his lips and the warmth in his eyes said more than words could.

My heart ballooned in my chest.

I love you, I mouthed.

Those whiskey pools sparkled and danced beneath the dim lights.

He didn’t need to say it for me to hear him.

I love you too.

After my show, Christian and I stayed an extra two nights in Milan before he whisked me off to Positano.

I’d protested half-heartedly, saying I had too much work to go on vacation, but honestly, it didn’t take much to convince me.

I fell in love with the Amalfi Coast before I ever visited it, and I fell even more in love after visiting.

The scent of salt and water filled my nose as we walked along the beach.

I would never get over how beautiful this place was. Not only because of how it looked, but because of what it meant to me and Christian.

It wasn’t the seed of our love. That’d been planted long before we stepped foot in Italy. But it was the place where it had blossomed, unfurling beneath the Mediterranean skies like the world’s most beautiful canvas.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Christian walked alongside me, his suits traded for a casual linen shirt and pants.

“Just a penny? I thought you were a billionaire.”

“A quarter then. Final offer,” he said with the seriousness of someone negotiating a multimillion-dollar contract.

I laughed. “Fine, I’ll take it, but my thoughts might be too sappy for you.” I looked out at the ocean, my words soft with reminiscence. “I’m thinking about our first trip here and how much I love this place. We’ve visited a lot of places together, but Italy…Italy will always be special.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Christian’s velvet murmur brushed my skin, along with an odd roughness I’d never heard before. “I couldn’t decide whether to do this in Hawaii or Italy, but it seems I made the right choice.”

“Do what?” I turned, and the breath disappeared from my lungs.

Because before me, framed by pastel-covered hills and the golden hues of sunset, was a sight I’d never anticipated.

Christian Harper on one knee, velvet box open in hand to reveal a dazzling diamond ring set with emeralds.

Tears blurred my vision as I pressed a hand to my mouth.

When he spoke again, the odd roughness was still there, but it was braided with so much love and hope they narrowed my world to this one moment with this one man.

“Stella, will you marry me?”