RENT A HEART

EVE's POV

I couldn't wrap my head around what I was seeing. Lexi Brown, the Lexi Brown, the supermodel I'd been trying to secure for Ethereal Eve for months was right here, in front of me. And my fake boyfriend was walking into the restaurant, hand-in-hand with her, acting all lovey-dovey, saw me, and then proceeded to completely ignore me.

How does he even know her?

Who exactly is he? I feel like I don't know him at all.

What exactly is their relationship?

He never laughed like that with me. Never smiled so brightly. Never seemed so...relaxed.

These were the internal monologues swirling in my mind, so consuming that I completely ignored my food and the person sitting across from me.

"You don't like the food?" I heard Frederick ask, his voice pulling me back to reality.

"Sorry?" I said, blinking, not sure I'd heard him correctly.

"If you don't like the food, we can order something else," he offered, giving me his signature charming smile.

"Oh, sorry. I spaced out," I apologized, forcing a smile of my own.

"I noticed," he chuckled softly. "Is anything the matter? You look worried."

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm absolutely fine," I said, trying to sound convincing. I picked at my salad, but it was laborious to swallow. I'd completely lost my appetite.

Every now and then, I stole a quick glance at their table. Even though I couldn't see Chris's face, the picture was clear enough. Lexi's bright smile and unrestrained laughter, the way she was playfully toying with his hands and the fact that he was allowing her to do so, told me everything I needed to know. They were very close. Incredibly close. And the realization stung more than I cared to admit.

And even though I hated to admit it, I missed him. A lot. I know it's only been a few weeks since we started this fake relationship, but the time I've spent with him felt like I've known him my whole life. We bickered, yes, but I'd rather have the arguments than this...this nothingness.

He hadn't called like he used to. No texts. Even the flowers had stopped arriving. I missed all of it. The small gestures, the constant presence, the way he somehow managed to annoy and intrigue me all at once.

Seeing him again after these past three days sent my heart into a frenzy. I lost count of how many times it skipped when we stared at each other. But he was with someone else, and I couldn't help the wave of jealousy and anger that washed over me.

"It's been thirty minutes, and you haven't touched your meal," Frederick said, his voice gentle.

"I'm so sorry. I think I've lost my appetite," I said honestly.

"Do you want to go to another restaurant? Maybe the change of scenery would help," he asked, starting to rise from his chair.

"No, I'd rather just go back to the office," I said. I really needed to be alone, to sort through this confusing mess of thoughts and feelings.

"Alright. Let me pay, so we can leave together," he said, and within a few minutes, we were heading for the door.

The closer I got to Chris's table, which was positioned near the exit, the faster my heart beat. It felt like a drum solo was being performed inside my chest.

Finally, we were out of the restaurant, and Frederick drove me to the company in silence. I wasn't in the mood for conversation. I felt sad, angry, jealous, and every other tumultuous emotion under the sun. As soon as Frederick dropped me off, I scheduled a meeting with my design teams for the next hour and instructed my assistant that I was not to be disturbed until it was time for the meeting. I needed to escape into work, to find some semblance of order in the chaos swirling around me.

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"Lexi Brown is back in the country," I announced as soon as the meeting commenced, my voice betraying a slight edge.

"How do you know this? Did you already meet her?" Stephanie asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

"I saw her today when I went out for lunch. She was with someone, so it was inappropriate to approach her during her date," I said, and I felt a pang of something sharp and unpleasant stab at my heart as I spoke those last words. From what I saw, it seemed highly likely that she was his date.

"How are we progressing with Elena Dermot?" I asked, steering the conversation back to business.

"It hasn't been successful," the head of one of the design teams reported. "She's asking for an exorbitant fee, and from what I could gather, she has already agreed to a deal with Amour company and is just stringing us along."

"I suggest we cut our losses and look for another supermodel," another team lead offered. "Besides, our own supermodels have the publicity, the charisma, and the aura to give us a fantastic show."

"Elena Dermot has the biggest publicity, being the president's daughter and all," another countered.

"And that's the only reason we wanted her," another chipped in. "She isn't better than our models to be demanding such a ridiculous fee."

"As much as our models are equal to the task, we need an edge against Amour," I said, pushing back against their reluctance. "And that's where Lexi Brown comes in. We need to get her before Amour even notices she's in the country." My voice brooked no argument. This was happening.

"Stephanie, you'll handle this. We need to set up a meeting as soon as possible. Latest, tomorrow," I instructed, my tone leaving no room for debate.

"That will be all," I said, ending the meeting. But Stephanie followed me back to my office, her brow furrowed with concern.

"The person you saw Miss Brown with... are you sure it wasn't someone from Amour? What if we're already too late?" she asked as soon as the door shut, her voice hushed.

"Well, we're not, because the person she was out with was Chris," I said, taking a sip of my coffee and bracing myself for her reaction.

"Wait, your Chris? Your Chris was the date you were talking about?" she asked, settling into one of the sofas, her eyes wide with disbelief.

I simply nodded.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, chuckling.

"Knew what?" I asked, genuinely curious as to what was going on in her mind.

"He was the reason you were sulking when you got back from lunch this afternoon, and the reason you've been in such a foul mood for more than two days now," she asserted, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"I do not want to talk about my relationships with you, Stephanie. Please, go back to your office. I need to work," I said gently, pushing her towards the door while she continued to laugh.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

"No, you are not," I lied, refusing to acknowledge the truth in her words.

"I'm going, I'm going, okay. But first, let's go to a club tonight and unwind. There's a really nice one that just opened near your estate. We can check it out later tonight, alright?" she suggested, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Okay, fine, fine. But leave," I said, relenting.

"Yes, yes, I'm leaving," she said, grinning. And with that, she finally left, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the unwelcome truth that Stephanie had, once again, seen right through me.

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"I knew it was a fake relationship, and he could have whatever woman he wants with that face and body he has, but still, he should respect the fact that the public now thinks we're a couple," I ranted to Stephanie, swirling the ice in my frozen margarita with unnecessary force. "He shouldn't be seen going out with another woman. It's bad for the image!"

"You were there with Frederick, correct?" she asked, her tone annoyingly reasonable.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" I huffed, exasperated.

"Well, everything, duh. What if Lexi is to Chris what Frederick is to you? A childhood best friend? Have you considered that, Miss Jealousy?" she taunted, emphasizing the last two words with a mischievous grin.

I pondered her words, turning them over in my mind. She might have a point. But something was still off, something felt fundamentally different about this situation.

"You didn't see how they were," I argued, my voice laced with frustration. "How close they were. They were literally playing with each other's fingers!" I emphasized the "literally," as if that detail was the key to understanding the entire mess.

"Best friends are supposed to be close, no?" she said, shrugging. "Look, I don't know why you're trying so hard to justify your jealousy. Just admit it." She said mockingly

"Jealous? Oh, come off it, Stephanie. I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous," I insisted, my voice rising slightly.

"Yeah, sure," she said, her lips twitching with amusement. It was painfully clear she didn't believe me for a second.

"I knew it was a fake relationship, and he could have whatever woman he wants with that face and body he has, but still, he should respect the fact that the public now thinks we're a couple," I ranted to Stephanie, swirling the ice in my frozen margarita with unnecessary force. "He shouldn't be seen going out with another woman. It's bad for the image!"

"You were there with Frederick, correct?" she asked, her tone annoyingly reasonable.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" I huffed, exasperated.

"Well, everything, duh. What if Lexi is to Chris what Frederick is to you? A childhood best friend? Have you considered that, Miss Jealousy?" she taunted, emphasizing the last two words with a mischievous grin.

I pondered her words, turning them over in my mind. She might have a point. But something was still off, something felt fundamentally different about this situation.

"You didn't see how they were," I argued, my voice laced with frustration. "How close they were. They were literally playing with each other's fingers!" I emphasized the "literally," as if that detail was the key to understanding the entire mess.

"Best friends are supposed to be close, no?" she said, shrugging. "Look, I don't know why you're trying so hard to justify your jealousy. Just admit it." She said mockingly

"Jealous? Oh, come off it, Stephanie. I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous," I insisted, my voice rising slightly.

"Yeah, sure," she said, her lips twitching with amusement. It was painfully clear she didn't believe me for a second.

"Care for a dance?" one of the men asked, his voice thick with alcohol.

"No, thank you," we both said simultaneously, exchanging a quick, amused glance. We giggled at our synchronized response and turned back to our drinks.

"Are both making fun of us?" the man persisted, his tone shifting from suggestive to confrontational. I recognized him immediately: the notorious, hot-tempered son of the state councillor. He was known for his violent streak, and I knew we needed to avoid trouble at all costs. We made a silent decision to leave, but as we moved towards the exit, they blocked our way.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of them sneered, his eyes narrowed.

I was about to offer a placating response when I heard a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Let the ladies through."

Immediately, the men turned to see who had dared to interrupt.

"And if we don't?" the councillor's son challenged, his voice dripping with menace.

"Then forgive me for what I'm about to do," I heard Chris say, his voice deceptively calm. Suddenly, the men parted in their middle like the red sea, forming a path for Chris and a group of men who seemed to materialize from nowhere to reach us.

"Did they touch you?" he asked, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. He cradled my face in his hands, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. At that moment, my mind went completely blank. I didn't hear what he said, neither did I care about anything else in the world other than the face in front of me, the concern etched in his features. The noise of the club faded away, leaving only him.

Stephanie might just be right, I thought, my heart pounding against my ribs. Maybe I really do like him. Maybe more than I even realized.