Page 68 of In the Frame

People also give me curious looks. Probably more like who is this guy?

“Is this alright?” I ask, nerves getting the better of me, smoothing the lapel of my tux jacket.

“You look stunning,” Florian assures me. “I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

Aside from letting him know that I agreed to still go through with our plan, we kept the messaging to a minimum since the last time I saw him. Florian gave me space, which I used to dedicate myself to some doom spiraling and another round of pep talks from Michael and Noah. It was the promise of Florian winning through every time that brought me here tonight.

“That’s what fake boyfriends are for,” I say, far more smoothly than what I feel. Then I swallow. Confession time. “I missed you too.”

His smile softens. He reaches out to smooth my shoulders, adjust my bow tie, and then goose bumps cover my body in an instant. Obviously, I have a serious Florian-related problem. It’s a battle of head versus heart, and right now, heart is winning flat out, and I hope I don’t regret this. Because seeing Florian again isn’t making things any easier. I don’t dare bring up the Rose, not now, wanting to get through tonight as if I never saw the property listing on his computer, and later, at home, on my own laptop. Noah confirmed recently from the current owner that the Rose is up for sale.

Don’t think about that.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

“Pinnacle fake boyfriend. It’s what we’ve trained for.”

Florian takes my hand and squeezes it, his gaze lingering and feeling far too real for comfort. My heart batters my ribs, and I’m done for. And next thing I know, we’re sharing a kiss. It’s fleeting, but enough for the scent of his cologne to make me dizzy, his nearness.

We join the queue for the red carpet, people pausing for the cameras, who must be famous, and I recognize a couple of celebrities, then more. Influencers too. A pop star.

“Florian,” I murmur under my breath, “there’s a gala, and then there’s a gala.”

He laughs easily, squeezing my hand. “You’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t realize we were going to the BAFTAs.” Film stars belong at the British Academy Film Awards, not me. I feel like I need to check the invite again in case Florian’s confused.

“People care about the environment. Very much. And Billy has a lot of friends.”

“I’ll say.”

Florian smiles fondly at me, and he squeezes my hand. “You can do this,” he murmurs. “I have complete faith in you.”

I bite my lower lip before I say that’s one of us, anyway, but then it’s our turn to walk the carpet to the entry, and then there’s a flood of flashes, and Florian pauses, looking completely natural because he’s obviously done this before, and I’m trying very much to perfect the deer-in-the-headlights look. He slides an arm around me, and then I can’t help the real smile that comes from having him so close. And then, with my eyes dazzling from the flash photography, he murmurs something to the woman at the end of the red carpet to confirm his name. But judging by the way she looks at him, she knows who he is on sight. As if he needs any introduction. There’s a buzz, and Florian’s getting attention from the photographers.

Probably because he’s Billy’s long-term ex. Oh God. I don’t even know how long ago they broke up. Not just broke up—ended their engagement. That was probably key information that I can’t ask right now.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

We can hear dance music playing from where we stand on the red carpet.

Once inside, we see a DJ set up nearby. There’s a display to the side about rewilding initiatives that the charity supports throughout the UK, which is impressive, and seeing photographs of nature does wonders for my heart rate. The venue has otherwise been transformed with dramatic colored lights and festive decor and even some kind of ice sculpture.

Florian slips away for a moment and returns with two glasses of champagne, also taking in the display beside me. A server soon pauses to offer canapés, which we take. Everything in here’s luxurious and high-end for the gala.

“Wow, Florian. I don’t know what I was expecting. But this is impressive,” I admit, gazing around at the glamorous crowd.

“They’re doing champagne and nibbles before the sit-down dinner,” Florian explains. “There’s also a silent auction, set up over there. Let’s check it out.” He nods at an area in front of a gallery, where people stream in and out. It looks like we have free run of the museum, with mindful attendants on hand. As for the auction, there’s everything from high-end weekend escapes at posh hotels to jewelry and even getting rewilding projects named after the successful winner.

It takes a while for people to arrive at the museum. There are hundreds of people here tonight. While we wander through one of the galleries with our champagne, looking at an exhibition on electric vehicles of all kinds, Florian turns and smiles.

Billy.

My heart’s in my mouth.

Of course, Billy looks amazing. He’s flawless in his tux, like he was born to do this. His hair and beard are neatly groomed, and his blue eyes sparkle. His suit hints at a muscular physique. I hold my breath when he hugs Florian.

“So glad you could make it tonight,” Billy says, clapping his shoulder.