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He looks at me closely like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.” I set down my mug. “But I’m your girlfriend buffer. And honestly after last night?” I lean in. “I’m feeling territorial about your emotional bandwidth.”

His eyes darken. Just a shade. Just enough.

"Territorial," he repeats.

“Very.”

“What did you have in mind?”

I grin. “Do you trust me?”

“That’s a terrifying question.”

“Do you?”

He hesitates. Then: “Yes.”

“Good.” I stand, pulling the sheet around me like a toga. “But first—brunch. We need to make an appearance with the bridesmaids. Sell this whole dating thing properly.”

“Sell it how?”

“By telling them the truth.” I pause. “Well. A version of the truth. We’re dating. We’re keeping it low-key because of the wedding drama. But we’re together.”

West raises an eyebrow. “More lies.”

“Strategic truth,” I correct. “We are spending time together. We are… attracted to each other. We’re just… not mentioning the expiration date or the transactional nature of the arrangement.”

“You’re really good at this.”

“At what? Lying?”

“At justifying it,” he says, and there’sno judgment in his voice. Just observation.

The words land heavier than they should.

Because he’s right. Iamgood at justifying it—good at spinning the narrative so I’m the hero, not the deceiver. Good at telling myself that lies for the right reasons don’t count.

But they do count. To Natalie. To the bridesmaids who hired me. To West, eventually.

I push the thought away. Deal with guilt later. Survive brunch first.

“Come on,” I say, heading for the bathroom. “Help me look like a woman who’s definitely not walking funny.”

His laugh follows me across the room, warm and genuine, and I let it chase away the uncomfortable truth.

For now.

Brunch is on the main terrace—white linens, tropical flowers, and champagne that keeps coming.

I’m wearing a sundress that Barbie deemedacceptable but needs more cleavage tomorrow, and I’m walking like a normal human being.

Mostly.

West keeps sending me these slow, knowing looks every time I adjust in my chair.