Chapter 4: Performance of a Lifetime

The Sterling & Associates conference room felt like a war room two hours later, complete with battle plans projected on massive screens showing social media analytics, trending hashtags, and what appeared to be a minute-by-minute breakdown of their coffee shop "date."

Elara sat across from Liam at the polished mahogany table, acutely aware that they hadn't spoken since his car dropped her off at her agency. He'd changed into a charcoal suit that made his dark eyes look even more intense, while she'd opted for a navy dress that struck the right balance between professional and approachable. They looked like they were dressed for a funeral—which, Elara thought grimly, might not be far from the truth.

"Ladies and gentlemen," announced Victoria Kane, Meridian Studios' head of publicity, her silver hair pulled back in a bun so severe it could have been a weapon, "we have a situation."

She clicked a remote, and the wall screen filled with numbers that made Elara's head spin. "In the six hours since your coffee shop encounter, #Starfire has generated over two million tweets, been shared across Instagram 800,000 times, and spawned approximately 10,000 pieces of fan fiction."

"Fan fiction?" Liam's voice was strangled. "Already?"

"The internet moves fast when it smells a love story," Victoria continued smoothly. "More importantly, early tracking shows that awareness for 'Aetheria's Echo' has increased by 340% since this morning. That translates to approximately sixty million dollars in free publicity."

Miranda leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Tell them about the international response."

"Ah yes." Victoria clicked again, showing a world map dotted with bright red indicators. "You're trending in seventeen countries. The photos from this morning have been featured on every major entertainment outlet from Entertainment Tonight to the BBC. You've essentially become a global phenomenon overnight."

Elara felt sick. "This is insane. We had coffee. We argued. That's literally all that happened."

"That's not what the photos suggest," said David Chen, Liam's agent, sliding a tablet across the table. "Take a look."

The screen showed a series of images that told a completely different story than the one Elara remembered living. In the first photo, she and Liam were leaning across the small café table, their faces inches apart, eyes locked in what could only be described as an intimate stare. Her hand was reaching toward his, as if she couldn't resist touching him.

"I was reaching for the sugar," she protested weakly.

The next photo showed Liam's face in profile, his expression soft and vulnerable as he looked at her—the exact moment when he'd admitted his fear about living in his father's shadow. But without context, it looked like a man gazing at the woman he loved with desperate longing.

"And this one," Victoria said, clicking to the final image, "has been shared more than any celebrity photo this year."

It was the moment they'd fled the coffee shop, Liam's hand clasping hers as he guided her through the crowd of photographers. But the way the camera had caught it, with her looking up at him with what appeared to be complete trust and adoration while he shielded her protectively, looked like something out of a romantic movie.

"We look..." Elara trailed off.

"Like you're desperately in love and trying to hide it from the world," Victoria finished. "Which brings us to our proposal."

She clicked the remote again, and a contract appeared on the screen—dense with legal language but with several key phrases highlighted in red.

"Fake dating contracts aren't uncommon in this industry," Victoria explained. "Usually they're damage control—hiding a messy breakup or diverting attention from a scandal. But this is different. This is about creating a narrative that will make 'Aetheria's Echo' the most anticipated film of the decade."

Liam was reading the contract with the focus of someone studying hieroglyphics. "You want us to pretend to date for the entire promotional campaign?"

"Not just pretend," Miranda corrected. "Live. You'll attend events together, be photographed together, give joint interviews. The whole relationship needs to feel authentic because the public is already invested in your love story."

"What love story?" Elara demanded. "We can barely stand each other!"

"The public doesn't know that," David pointed out. "They see enemies-to-lovers, opposites attracting, passion disguised as conflict. It's the oldest story in the book, and they're eating it up."

Victoria pulled up another screen showing entertainment blog headlines: "Starfire: From Feud to Forever?" "The Coffee Shop Meeting That Changed Everything." "Exclusive: Inside Sources Say They've Been 'Fighting Their Feelings' for Months."

"Inside sources?" Liam's voice was dangerously quiet.

"The narrative writes itself," Victoria said diplomatically. "Two talented actors who publicly clashed, forced to work together, slowly realizing that their antagonism was really attraction. It's irresistible."

Elara studied the contract terms, her stomach sinking with each clause. "Six months of 'exclusive romantic companionship.' Mandatory appearance at all studio events. Coordination of all social media posts." She looked up. "This is my entire life."

"This is your career," Miranda corrected firmly. "Ellie, the studio is offering you a three-picture deal with a first-look production agreement. That means you can develop your own projects, choose your own roles. You'd never have to play the quirky best friend again."

The words hit their target. For five years, Elara had been fighting to be taken seriously, to land roles that challenged her beyond her ability to look adorable while delivering witty one-liners. This contract could change everything.

"And you," David said, turning to Liam, "get creative control over the sequel scripts, plus a producer credit. No more fighting for artistic input. No more having decisions made without your involvement."

Elara watched Liam's face carefully. She could see the moment he understood what was being offered—the freedom to make the kinds of films he wanted, to step out of his father's shadow once and for all.

"There's just one catch," Victoria continued. "It has to be believable. The public is already suspicious of celebrity relationships. If this feels fake, if there are any cracks in the facade, it won't just hurt the film—it could destroy both your careers."

"So no pressure," Liam muttered.

"None whatsoever," Victoria agreed with a sharp smile. "Your first official date is tonight."

"Tonight?" Elara's voice pitched higher.

Miranda slid another document across the table. "Nobu Malibu, eight PM. It's been leaked to three different paparazzi agencies, so you'll have plenty of coverage. The reservation is under 'Mr. and Mrs. Starfire'—cute touch, right?"

Elara stared at the reservation confirmation in horror. "You've already planned our fake date?"

"We've planned your entire fake relationship," Victoria corrected. "Dinner tonight to confirm you're officially together, followed by strategic appearances at industry events, a few romantic getaways that will be 'accidentally' photographed, and culminating in you walking the red carpet together at the premiere as Hollywood's newest power couple."

The room fell silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of Los Angeles traffic. Elara looked across the table at Liam, trying to read his expression. His face was carefully neutral, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the table.

"If we do this," he said finally, "there have to be ground rules."

"Such as?" David prompted.

"No public displays of affection beyond what's necessary for photos. No interviews about our 'relationship' without both of us present. And absolute privacy when we're not performing."

"Agreed," Victoria said immediately. "Anything else?"

Elara found her voice. "What happens when the six months are over? How do we break up without making it look like the whole thing was fake?"

Miranda and Victoria exchanged a look that made Elara's stomach twist.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Victoria said smoothly. "Right now, we need to focus on selling the romance."

"And if we refuse?" Liam asked.

The silence that followed was answer enough. The studio had invested too much in this narrative to let them walk away now. They were trapped.

"I need a few minutes," Elara said, standing abruptly. "Alone. With him."

The room cleared with the efficiency of people accustomed to high-stakes negotiations, leaving Elara and Liam facing each other across the empty conference table.

"This is insane," she said once they were alone.

"Completely," he agreed. "But also..."

"Also what?"

He ran a hand through his dark hair, messing up the careful styling. "Also potentially the best career move either of us could make."

"You're actually considering this?"

"Aren't you?" His dark eyes met hers. "When was the last time you had complete creative control over a project? When was the last time someone offered you the chance to produce your own films?"

Elara sank back into her chair. He was right, and they both knew it. This contract was offering them everything they'd ever wanted professionally, wrapped in the most complicated personal arrangement imaginable.

"We'd have to spend six months pretending to be in love," she said quietly.

"We'd have to spend six months pretending to be in love with each other," he corrected, and something in his voice made her look up sharply.

"Is that a problem?"

For a moment, something flickered in his dark eyes—something that reminded her of the way he'd looked at her during the table read, when he'd whispered "Love me back" with devastating conviction.

"No," he said finally. "I think I can manage to pretend to find you attractive for six months."

The way he said it—with just a hint of challenge, as if he was daring her to admit she might not have to pretend at all—made heat curl low in her belly.

"Good," she said, standing and smoothing down her dress. "Because our first performance starts in four hours."

As she reached the door, his voice stopped her.

"Elara?"

She turned back, surprised by the use of her first name.

"For what it's worth," he said, his expression unreadable, "I think you're going to be an excellent fake girlfriend."

"And you're going to be a terrible fake boyfriend," she replied, but there was no heat in it.

"Probably," he agreed with the ghost of a smile. "But I promise I'll make it convincing."

As she left the conference room, Elara tried to ignore the way her pulse had quickened at his words, or the fact that the most terrifying part of this whole arrangement wasn't the public scrutiny or the media attention.

It was the possibility that somewhere between the staged dinners and orchestrated photo ops, she might forget they were supposed to be acting.

Four hours until showtime. Four hours until she had to convince the world she was falling in love with Liam Blackwood.

The truly frightening part was how easy it was starting to seem.