Fake Dating My Boyfriend's Rival For Christmas

{Day 1; 20th Dec, The Ophelia Cruise Ship} Octavia “Can’t you at least try to look like you belong here?” Nathan’s voice was a low hiss in my ear, but the condescension cut deep. His hand tightened around my arm, guiding me through the glittering crowd with the same sharp, exacting grip he used when leading junior associates through presentations. Tonight was the first night of the Winter Publishing Gala, a 12-day event that would stretch all the way through the holiday season, from December 20th to December 31st. This was the biggest event of the year, an industry celebration that was supposed to bring a festive end to the year and usher in new opportunities. Twelve days of mingling with top executives and editors, awards ceremonies, parties, and deals. But all I felt was dread, knowing I’d have to cope with Nathan barking orders at me like a child on this cruise for almost two weeks. “I’m trying, Nathan,” I replied, managing a small, tight smile even as his words sank like stones into my chest. I could feel my confidence diminishing, little by little, but I’d learned to hide it behind polite silence. Eight months with him, and I still hadn’t figured out how to be the flawless girlfriend he wanted—or how to stop feeling like a poorly dressed imposter in his world. Nathan Sinclair was everything I wasn’t—polished, rich, and ruthless. Standing at six feet, with dark hair slicked back in a perfect sweep, he wore his power like armor. Tonight, he was dressed in a sharp navy suit that fit him like a glove, every line of it only reinforcing the severity of his expression. His jaw was clenched, and I could see the impatience simmering behind his carefully composed smile, the one he wore only for show. “Stand up straighter,” he ordered, barely glancing at me as we approached the main deck of the cruise liner. The ballroom stretched out around us, a sprawling expanse of gold and white with shimmering lights and opulent decor, all themed in icy blues, silvers, and whites to capture a winter wonderland aesthetic. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting soft, golden glows over everyone gathered, while white garlands and wreaths dotted with frosted berries decorated the walls and railings. It was like stepping into a holiday dream. But instead of excitement, all I felt was dread. I straightened my shoulders, trying to ignore the judgment in his gaze as he looked me over. My dress—a modest, midnight-blue cocktail dress that reached just below my knees—suddenly felt too plain, too cheap. Next to him, I felt like the poor girl I used to be, the one he’d plucked out of the editorial department at Empire House Publishing, polished up, and then reminded, every day, of my flaws. Nathan's gaze swept over me with thinly veiled dissatisfaction. “Can’t you be more… elegant, Octavia? Look at yourself. You’re not exactly blending in with the crowd here, are you?” I forced myself to nod, even as a painful knot formed in my throat. I couldn’t let him see how much his words hurt. Not tonight. Tonight was important to him, and I had to be the perfect girlfriend. The one everyone envied. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the truth. My colleagues might envy me for dating the CEO, but they didn’t see the subtle put-downs, the way he chipped away at me piece by piece. “Smile,” he ordered, his own smile stretching wide as we approached a group of industry elites. I pasted on my best smile, the one I’d practiced in the mirror, even though my heart felt like it was sinking. Then, as we moved further onto the deck, I saw him. Dave Carter. Even among the glittering elite, Dave Carter stood out. The CEO of Vanguard Publishing, Nathan’s greatest rival, and the man who represented everything Nathan desperately wanted but didn’t have. Dave exuded an effortless confidence that Nathan tried so hard to emulate. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jawline that gave him a classic, rugged handsomeness. His dark hair was tousled just enough to look deliberate, and he wore an impeccable black Italian suit that practically screamed wealth and power. He looked every inch the self-made billionaire, his gaze cool and detached as he surveyed the room. Beside him stood Ava Gomez, his girlfriend, an internationally-known model who seemed to float through the crowd with effortless grace. Ava was tall and stunning, with sun-kissed skin, high cheekbones, and glossy black hair that spilled over her shoulders in perfect waves. Her dress was scarlet and scandalously low-cut, clinging to every curve. She was a walking embodiment of glamour, and the envy of everyone on board. I felt a pang of jealousy as I looked at her. She was everything I wasn’t—confident, glamorous, and completely at ease in this world. Unlike me, standing beside Nathan, with his constant criticisms ringing in my ears, I felt like a complete fool, an imposter in a room full of people who belonged here. Nathan’s face twisted in irritation as he watched Dave and Ava glide through the crowd. His gaze lingered on Dave’s suit, the casual way he moved, and his jaw clenched visibly. “Look at him,” Nathan muttered, his tone bitter. “Thinks he’s better than everyone else.” I didn’t respond. There was no point. Nathan had spent countless nights ranting about Dave Carter, about how his company, Vanguard Publishing, kept snagging the industry’s biggest awards, landing the most sought-after authors. Nathan loathed him, but I knew a part of that hatred stemmed from envy. Dave had the success, the confidence, the perfect lifestyle, and the woman Nathan could only dream of. It didn’t help that Dave’s company was dominating in every area Nathan craved. Dave’s eyes flickered in our direction, landing on Nathan briefly. Nathan straightened, plastering on a strained smile, attempting to look casual and friendly. But Dave simply raised an eyebrow, his expression icy, and continued walking with Ava at his side, brushing past us as if we didn’t exist. Nathan’s face turned a dangerous shade of red, and his grip on my arm tightened painfully. “How dare he snub me,” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper. He dragged me down the hall toward our suite, his pace brisk, almost violent. When we reached the door, he flung it open and shoved me inside, barely allowing me to catch my balance. I stumbled forward, my hand reaching for the wall to steady myself. “Do you see that?” Nathan fumed, ripping off his tie and tossing it on the bed. He grabbed a glass from the nightstand and poured himself a drink, his hands shaking with fury. “He’s no better than me. He’s just lucky.” I stood there, silent, my heart pounding as I watched him down his drink in one go. I wanted to say something, to calm him down, but I knew better. Any attempt would just make things worse. “And you,” he snarled, turning to face me. “Can’t you be more like Ava? Look at her! She’s everything a man could want—classy, beautiful, perfect. Not… whatever this is.” He gestured at me, his expression disgusted. “You’re just so… local.” I felt the sting of his words like a physical slap, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. I’d grown used to his insults, but tonight, they cut deeper. Every time he criticized me, he chipped away at whatever self-esteem I had left. And yet, here I was, still trying to be the perfect girlfriend, still clinging to him because I didn’t believe anyone else would want me. “Sorry,” I whispered, looking down, feeling the familiar shame wash over me. He scoffed, taking another swig from his glass. “Just… get out of my sight, Octavia. I need a break from your pathetic attempts.” I nodded, slipping out of the suite as quickly as I could. The hallway was quiet, the muffled sounds of the holiday music drifting from the ballroom. I wandered aimlessly, letting the cool December air on deck and the sweet smell of the ocean calm the burning in my chest. I told myself I just needed to give him time to cool down. He’d be asleep soon enough, the alcohol knocking him out, and I could return without any more confrontation. After an hour or so, I started back, dreading the return but knowing I had no choice. As I turned the corner toward our room, I spotted someone coming out of the suite across the hall. It was Dave Carter. He looked different up close, his sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes giving him an aura of confidence that was almost intimidating. He was scanning the hallway, his expression tense. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with worry as he approached, standing directly beside me. “Have you seen a woman around here? She’s tall, dark hair…” I blinked, realizing he meant Ava. “Ava Gomez?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. He nodded. “She was a little drunk earlier, said she needed to lie down, but she’s not in our room.” I forced a polite smile. “Sorry, I haven’t seen her,” I shook my head, reaching for the door to our suite. But as I pushed it open, the scene before me shattered my world in an instant.