“This is insane.”

“You’re telling me,” Lando said, looking way too calm for someone who just fake-hired you to be his girlfriend in front of a literal Netflix camera crew.

“You really just told your PR team we’ve been dating for six months.”

“Five,” he corrected, adjusting his watch. “We broke up for a week in April. Don’t worry, I’ve got our whole timeline mapped out. I even gave us a ‘soft-launch’ post.”

You blinked. “What soft-launch post—”

He held up his phone. There, clear as day, was a blurry photo of your elbow and his shoulder in some rooftop dinner pic from last month.

“You posted that?”

He smirked. “People ate it up. You’re kinda famous now.”

Your jaw dropped. “You unhinged racetrack menace.”

He just grinned wider, stepping closer, voice lower now. “All you have to do is survive this red carpet. Smile, hold my hand, laugh at my jokes. We pretend we’re madly in love. Easy.”

You stared at him. “This is never going to work.”

“Too late,” he whispered, slipping his hand into yours as the curtain was pulled back and someone yelled, “Lando, you’re up!”

He winked. “Ready to be adored, babe?”

And before you could reply, you were stepping into flashing lights, fake smiles, and utter chaos.