My career’s been slipping, and it feels like nobody’s interested in my art anymore. Then, by pure chance, I cross paths with this rising actress. She’s not famous yet, but there’s something about her. We barely know each other when the paparazzi snap a picture of us together, and by the next morning, the tabloids have decided we’re dating.

My agent thinks this is a blessing in disguise, proposing that we play along and fake a relationship. She agrees, and now here we are, staging ‘dates’ and posing for cameras, all for the public’s benefit. It’s supposed to be pretend, but every time I’m with her, it gets harder to remember that.

Tonight, we’re at some swanky, high-profile event, courtesy of the agency’s planning. We arrive together, putting on a show for everyone, then split up to mingle. I watch her as she chats with some people, never letting her drift too far out of sight. Then, I spot some guy, I know him, he is an model, getting a little too close, leaning in as he talks to her. She laughs, and something stirs inside me. And then I hear him, asked her for dance.

I stride over, slipping an arm around her waist, claiming her in front of him. I lock eyes with him and say, “Actually, this is my date.” He gets the message and quickly backs off. She looks up at me, surprised, but I don’t let go. We might be pretending, but tonight, she’s mine, and I’m not sharing.