“It’s a problem for both of us. Although, if anyone is to blame here, aside from the press, it’s whoever manufactured that shoe.”
The comment startled a laugh out of her. “Fair.” She rubbed at the bridge of her nose as a headache started to build. “Look, I’m headed back to Paris for the rest of the year. I’ll be far away from you—”thank God“—so no more paparazzi photos. We won’t be together. This whole mess will die down.” She sucked in a breath. “Even if the designing doesn’t go the way I want it to and the press bug me for a bit, it’ll die down once they realize they made a mistake.”
“Or we could pretend to date.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANNASTAREDAThim as if he’d just announced his decision to give away his fortune and go live in a hut on the beach. Given their history, she had every right to question his sanity. But his solution was a viable one. Being seen on his arm would catapult Anna from magazine footnote to international star. Brands would be clamoring for her portfolios. And he would get the damned picture-snapping fools off his back.
“What... I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
Jazz music filtered out of the café speakers as the waiter placed a chalkboard sign on the street advertising their menu.
“Let’s grab a coffee and I’ll explain.”
Anna stared at him for a moment longer before tentatively following him to the café. The waiter seated them and, after taking their order, disappeared inside.
“You need to get the attention on you refocused.”
“Need is a strong word. I’d like to, but—”
“You just said you didn’t like the direction your career was heading. As much as I despise articles and photos like this, it’s giving you an opportunity to change that direction.”
She frowned. “Doesn’t pretending to be your girlfriend keep the attention on who I know?”
“At first, yes. And the first week we give them exactly what they want. Photos of us holding hands, going on dates. Brands are either not focusing on your work at all or won’t take you seriously.”
“Yes, but my work could be better. I—”
He took his phone out of his pocket, pulled the article up and slid the phone across the table. Anna put her hand over the screen.
“Seeing it once was more than enough.”
“What better way to get rid of the naïve label than by dating one of the world’s richest men?” He motioned to the text beneath the photo. “The story has written itself. We act it out and change the way people see you. Wear some of your designs when we’re seen together. Your work starts getting international attention.”
She bit down on her lower lip. “So we pretend to be a couple for a few weeks and then...what? Fake breakup?”
“Yes.”
Her teeth dug deeper into her lip. It dawned on him that his offer could be perceived as cruel. She’d poured out her heart to him once, imagining herself in love with her best friend, only to have him rip away the blinders of innocence and cut off contact.
Now here he was, offering to pretend and give her a shadow of what she had wanted all those years ago.
Not the same. They were both adults now. She hadn’t given any indication that she still harbored feelings for him. A thought that should be a relief but instead bothered him, a persistent scratch on his skin he couldn’t quite shake.
The waiter came out and set two steaming cups and cannoli on the table, the ricotta cheese cream spilling out from either end of the fried pastries. Anna swiped a bit of filling and slid a finger into her mouth.
“Mmm. That’s really good.”
He looked away and focused on the wrought-iron balcony two stories up on the other side of the street. “It is.”
“What do you get out of this?”
Thankfully, by the time he turned back, she was holding her cup.
“A couple of things. One, we would start off the charade in Positano, which is the site of my newest hotel. The media will follow, especially after that incident this morning in front of the Steps. They’ll take photos of you with your new boyfriend, and at some point someone will casually mention my newest hotel or even get a photo of us there together.”
“Free advertising.”