Page 81 of PR Stunt

“Didn’t hear a single peep about you two while we were filming,” she says, tucking a copper strand behind her ear.

My heart stutters, but my face doesn’t. I totally didn’t think this through, and thankfully we’re in the clear. Because if I had so much as looked at someone during filming, this entire ruse would unravel. Am I really thanking myself for being single? New rock bottom.

I let out a soft laugh, smoothing my palm over the fabric of my dress. “Oh my God, hi!” I step toward her, instantly pulling her into a quick, careful hug. “How are you? Toronto feels like ages ago.”

Small talk in this industry is an art form. A performance layered in compliments and feigned surprise, all wrapped in designer gowns and air kisses.

She pulls back, scanning me with an approving glance. “I should’ve known you’d be the best dressed in the room.”

“Oh, please.” I gesture toward her gown. “Look who’s talking.”

“I’ll admit it… I am surprised. You kept this man quite the secret,” she says.

My stomach gives the faintest clench. I laugh lightly again. “We were too busy to talk about anything other than work.”

Harper watches me, amused, but there’s a hint of calculation in her gaze before she turns her full attention to Grayson.

“Do you two know each other?” I ask, shifting the conversation before she has time to push any further.

She hums, lips pressing into something sly. “Oh no, not personally.”

Then she glances at Grayson, something accusing behind her gaze. “But…he was seeing a close friend of mine, hey Grayson?”

My champagne flute stalls halfway to my lips. She is the second person tonight to remind me that Grayson Cole is a living, breathing, walking red flag. That we are selling the story of a man who has a past woven so deeply into this industry, it can’t even go one hour without making an appearance. This is fine. I smile, playing into it like it’s just another harmless comment, even as my mind spirals with the reality of how fragile this whole thing is. I glance at Grayson, noting the way his expression is locked away.

I lift a brow, keeping my tone light. “Oh? Guess some things are better left in the past.”

Harper lets out a soft, knowing laugh, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “Right.”

Okay. She’s still poking at this. I keep my expression neutral, my grip light on my glass, trying not to let the irritation creep in.

Then, she tilts her head at Grayson, playful but pointed. “When did you two meet?”

“In New York,” he says simply, his voice smooth, unbothered. “At a film benefit in SoHo.”

Harper’s eyes move to mine, curious. Waiting.

I rack my brain. “Oh—yes. Remember that weekend I was in SoHo?” I offer, keeping my tone casual. “We were at the same event. Just didn’t realize until later how small the room was.”

Harper narrows her eyes just slightly. “Odd. I could’ve sworn someone said you met here. In l.a.”

My pulse stutters, but Grayson barely blinks. “We did. In passing. At that same awards show we were all at,” he says, calm as ever.

“Did you ever visit her in Toronto?” she pushes.

Grinding my teeth, I think that it’s none of her goddamn business. “You know how shoots are. Twelve-hour days don’t leave much room for anything interesting.” My tone is easy, but my gaze locks onto hers, making sure the message lands.

She lets it hang for just a second longer and then exhales, tilting her head toward Grayson. “Well, just so you know, Cole, if you mess this up, I’m taking her side.”

Grayson chuckles like he’s not the least bit concerned. “Noted.”

I tilt my head, feigning amusement, but somewhere in the back of my mind, that irritation grows. Not at Harper, really. But at the way people talk about him, the way the past never quite stays there. I get why she’s asking. For years, Grayson practically handed the tabloids their headlines. Still, it must be difficult having everyone so attached to a version of you that no longer feels like you. I glance toward the ballroom, spotting the waitstaff moving through the space, ushering guests toward the next portion of the evening. An easy out.

I turn to Grayson, shifting my weight slightly toward him. “Another drink?”

He nods, handing his empty glass to a passing waiter without breaking stride.

Harper smiles, giving my arm a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you inside. And Charlie?” She grins. “Really good to see you.”