I stood before the mirror in the restroom, my fingers working methodically as I applied another layer of mascara. My reflection stared back at me: high cheekbones accentuated by a light dusting of blush, full lips painted a deep red, and eyes that seemed to smolder with a mix of resignation and defiance.
I blinked, scrutinizing my work. The makeup was flawless, transforming me from CEO to red carpet ready in a matter of minutes. On any other night, I might have felt a twinge of satisfaction. Tonight, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Fucking circus," I muttered, reaching for my lipstick. My hand hesitated over the tube. Did I really need another coat? Who was I trying to impress?
I knew the answer, even if I didn't want to admit it. This whole charade was for Alex's benefit. Sure, I stood to gain from our arrangement too, but right now, it felt like I was nothing more than arm candy for Seattle's most eligible bachelor.
