This was going to end badly, and not for the Hollywood star. No, it would end badly for her, theordinaryEllie Jones. He was going to break her heart if he kept kissing her like that.
Remember, it’s not real.At least this time she knew it was fake, and she’d be getting her lovely two-bed flat at the end of it.
Nobody would laugh this time. No, Ellie Jones had nothing to be ashamed of.
She pulled away, blinking rapidly against the flashing cameras, still shocked by his kiss. He led her away gently, as if she were the most precious woman in the world.
Was he acting? He had to be.
The crowd of photographers were going wild. But Ellie couldn’t hear a word they said; in her mind they were cheering, and she was finally being accepted for who she was. Alex had kissed her publicly – declaring them as a couple, claiming her as his own – and, even if it wasn’t real, she didn’t care.
Plus-size, ordinary Ellie had finally triumphed. Alex’s kiss had stuck up a middle finger to every person who’d ever made her think she wasn’t good enough. David, Richie, even her mum.
Richie beckoned them impatiently from the side and they moved on.
A scream of noise and light came from behind them and Ellie had the sudden horrifying thought that one of her duct-taped boobs might have fallen out of her dress. But no, it was for the glamorous and tiny woman who had just stepped out of alimousine and was currently walking up to the position they’d just left.
‘Is that— Oh my God!’
Alex grinned. ‘Get used to it. I’m not the biggest name here, not by a long shot.’
Wild-eyed, Ellie whispered, ‘Don’t leave me alone. I’ll end up doing something ridiculous, like beg her to kiss my hand or sing my name.’
They walked up the steps towards the scarlet and gilded archway and the memorial statue guarding its royal entrance.
‘I’m having such a great time,’ gasped Ellie, holding on to Alex’s arm tightly.
His eyebrow quirked up playfully. ‘It’s only just begun.’
‘I know, but if I forget later, I just want you to know that I had the best time!’ She beamed up at him, her heart thundering in her chest. If this were a dream, she never wanted to wake up.
Chapter Thirteen
Alex was grateful that Richie always knew what to do. Smoothing the way ahead of them, speaking to the reporters – telling them what they could and couldn’t ask. Shaping the damn narrative, and threatening to blacklist the journalists who didn’t play ball. Which was why an official event like this was the ideal place to publicise their fake relationship, and also why Richie was paid so well, despite the fact that he could be a complete asshole at times.
Alex had been furious with Richie’s rudeness to Ellie in the car. It was Alex’s fault for not telling Richie her name. In fact, he’d only confirmed her full name with his mother that morning, after she’d threatened to contact a private detective. He’d delayed telling them because he knew that, once he revealed who she was, the entire family would be looking into her, and their safe little bubble of privacy would be gone for good. He also didn’t want to give Richie an opportunity to talk Ellie out of helping him, and he couldn’t trust his mother not to tell Richie.
A journalist was asking him about his latest production, and he reeled off all of his planned talking points, in well-rehearsed answers, steering the conversation to the talent of his actors and crew. As always, the interviewer then turned to Ellie and asked a question to draw her into the conversation. This time it was the very benign, ‘Who are you wearing?’ question.
Ellie gave a sexy pivot on her elegant heels, her hips seductively tilting with the movement and causing his mouth to dry. ‘Me, of course.’ She giggled.
‘You’re a designer?’ gasped the interviewer with admiration.
Ellie shook her head with a sweet blush.
Alex was quick to interrupt before she dismissed her abilities. ‘It’s one of her passions – her designs are fantastic, don’t you think?’
The interviewer gushed enthusiastically in agreement, and Ellie was obviously flattered by the praise. Richie came over and quickly ended the interview, then ushered them on to the next. The earlier green-carpet viewing area had only been the beginning. Camera crews, interviewers and photographers filled the entrance area, assistants and agents flying around like tennis balls arranging interviews.
‘Bloody hell, are weevergoing to get inside the theatre?’ quipped Ellie, as they walked away from yet another reporter.
‘You’re doing brilliantly, and don’t worry, we’ll be going in soon,’ he said, and he meant it – she was a natural in interviews. Bubbly and friendly, but not overbearing. She took a back seat and let him do most of the talking, only answering questions when they were directed specifically at her, or if he asked for her opinion, which he often did.
‘One more,’ said Richie firmly, and directed them towards a familiar face – at least to Alex – theArts Reviewjournalist, Mei. Today she wore a black cocktail dress with dramatic puffy sleeves. The design was probably a deliberate choice, as it seemed to keep the other reporters at bay, despite their jostling forward with their own microphones and lenses.
Alex stiffened and tucked Ellie’s arm under his more firmly, as if he could somehow guard her from the indomitable Mei. He was prepared to drag Ellie away if she played one of her tricks again.
‘Hello again, Alex.’ Mei beamed, not an ounce of guilt on her perfectly made-up face. She had a TV cameraman beside her today.
