Page 9 of Arranged To Be Mine

Cleo leaned closer. “Click it. I want to see what happened.”

“What is it?” Jeremy asked. He came around to stand on my other side.

“Click it,” Cleo said.

I clicked it. The video loaded. Darcy stood at the podium in a navy blazer, her platinum hair pulled back. She looked polished. Professional. Completely in control.

“These rings are more than jewelry. They’re a promise. A beginning.”

I shrugged. “This⁠—”

Cleo shushed me.

“Under me, love gives up hope.” Darcy’s words hung in the air.

“Oh shit,” Jeremy said with a laugh.

Darcy’s face went through about six different emotions in the span of two seconds. Confusion. Realization. Panic. And then nothing. A wall slamming down.

“Thank you for your time,” she said, her voice suddenly clipped. “I won’t be taking questions.”

And then she walked off. The video cut to a news anchor trying very hard not to smile.

“Oh, that poor woman,” Cleo said, her hand pressed to her chest. “That was painful.”

“Why didn’t she just correct herself?” Jeremy asked. “Like, laugh it off? No one would have cared.”

“She panicked,” I said, watching the video loop back to the beginning.

“Clearly.” Cleo shook her head. “But running off stage like that? Now it’s going to be everywhere. The social media people are going to eat her alive.”

“Man, I fell on a runway once,” Jeremy said. “The rule is to get up, maybe make a joke, and no one cares. She’s fucked.”

The internet was merciless, and Darcy Corwin had just handed them a gift. They’d be feasting on her for at least a week.

“Come on,” Cleo said, tugging at my arm. “You can doom-scroll later. I’m starving.”

I closed the laptop and grabbed my jacket. The Corwin situation wasn’t my problem.

We ended up at a trendy spot in West Hollywood. The menu didn’t have prices because if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. Jeremy got recognized twice before we even sat down, which he pretended to be annoyed by but clearly loved.

“You could wear a hat,” I said. “Sunglasses.”

“Why?” He grinned. “They’d still recognize me.”

“So,” Cleo said once we’d ordered. “Mom’s gala is next week.”

“The charity thing?” Jeremy asked, scrolling through his phone. Probably checking how many new followers he’d gained since breakfast.

“Yes, the charity thing. She’s raising money for hungry kids. It’s important to her.” Cleo fixed Jeremy with a look. “You’re going.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I just got back. I haven’t even unpacked. But yes, I’ll be there in a tux, looking gorgeous, making Mom proud.”

“Beau?”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good.” Cleo smiled, satisfied.