"You want me to do what?"
Ana stood in the middle of the luxurious Manhattan studio, staring at the creative director like he'd grown three heads.
"Wrap your arms around him. Tilt your chin. Smile like he's the only man who's ever touched you."
She blinked. "He's not even the only man in this room."
The crew laughed.
Christian didn't.
He was already in position — crisp black suit, hand in pocket, jaw locked like a statue sculpted by disappointment.
Ana sighed and stepped into the frame.
They hadn't spoken since the confrontation.
They hadn't even looked at each other long enough to start another argument.
Now they were expected to look in love.
Easy.
She positioned herself beside him, fake smile activated.
The lights flashed.
"Closer," the photographer called. "Touch his chest."
She did. Cool wool. Warm breath.
Christian's hand slid to her waist.
Lower than polite. Firmer than expected.
Ana raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
The next flash caught that exact moment — two people trying to pretend they weren't pretending.
📸 Twenty Minutes Later
"Okay! Last set — Christian, lift her like you adore her. Ana, wrap your arms around his neck. Look like you'd kill for him."
Ana muttered, "Not kill for. Maybe kill him."
Christian heard it. Smirked.
She jumped slightly when his arm wrapped beneath her legs and waist in one swift move.
Her heart skipped.
She was in his arms.
Held like a prize.
Lifted like something rare.
The cameras clicked wildly.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Their eyes met.
For a second—just one second—Ana forgot it was fake.
His hand wasn't just steady. It was gentle.
His gaze wasn't blank. It was... full.
Of something she couldn't name.
And then—
"Perfect!" the photographer called.
Christian gently set her down.
Too gently.
Ana stepped back fast. "We done?"
"For now," the assistant said. "We'll send you the selects."
She was already grabbing her coat.
🚪 Backstage – Moments Later
Christian caught her wrist before she could escape.
"Wait."
She froze. Turned halfway.
"What?"
His jaw tightened. "You looked… real today."
"So did you," she said softly. "Scary, isn't it?"
He let go first.
And for once… he was the one watching her walk away.
He stayed in the dressing room long after everyone else had left.
The cameras had captured enough fake love to sell a magazine.
But none of them had seen what he saw in her eyes when she looked up at him mid-shot.
Something raw.
Something unspoken.
Something he wanted again.
Too bad wanting wasn't part of the deal.
🖤 Christian's POV
She was heavier than she looked.
Not in weight—
But in presence.
Christian had lifted hundreds of women before. Dancers. Models. Business partners at charity galas.
But no one had ever felt like Ana did in his arms.
Solid. Real. Warm. Dangerous.
She didn't melt into him.
She held herself.
Even when being held.
That part scared him more than he'd admit.
📸 During the Shoot
Christian barely heard the camera clicks.
All he could focus on was her pulse against his wrist.
She had no idea how loud she was — even when she said nothing.
Every time she laughed on cue, he could tell which ones were fake.
Every time she posed, he felt her stiffness.
Every time she looked up at him…
He wanted to forget why he started this.
He wanted to forget it wasn't supposed to mean anything.
To be continued…