When I accepted this assignment, I did not think close proximity with Rio would be an issue.
It has been four years since that night. And a million other men have replaced Rio in my girlish childhood fantasies.
But as I look at him again, I realize that my head is saying one thing. And my body quite another.
CHAPTER 13
MADDIE
From the back of the ballroom, I watch Rio personally greet several journalists as they enter. He's confident and full of charisma as he shakes hands and even signs a few album covers.
But his confidence only makes my anxiety about public speaking grow.
Then there's the delicate issue of getting my point across. These reporters will write about our love affair. We'll have to make it convincing.
Given that stupid"delicious"remark, I'm reasonably sure I can make mypassionfor Rio come off well.
But can Rio speak of me without sarcasm? Or making me the butt of some joke?
Just then, Rio appears by my side, as if by magic.
"Ready to join me on the dais?" he asks. "I'm going to get settled in."
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and grab Rio's wrist.
"Rio," I say, my voice shaky and pathetic to my own ears. "I've never done a press conference before."
I realize I'm still holding his wrist, my fingers pressed against his warm skin. His arm feels solid under my grip.
"Don't worry, Maddie-girl. You'll be fine," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear it.
"My voice might disappear. My mind might freeze?—"
"Stop it."
He cuts me off with a sharpness that makes me blink as his eyes lock onto mine.
"You'll be just fine. Follow my lead. You'll be great."
Before I can respond, he smacks my butt.Hard.
I don’t even know what hit me until I feel the resulting sting.
My eyes dart around the room to see if any of the journalists caught that.
But as if to add insult to injury,he pinches my assfor good measure.
I glare at him, my cheeks burning hot. My mouth opens, but no words come out.
That impossible arrogance. The way he just assumes he can touch me like that.
But I have no choice other than to follow Rio up to the dais with Snorty in my arms.
As I settle in, nerves cause my armpits to grow damp under the designer blazer. Strange, because the air conditioning vent above me blasts cold air like crazy.
Even Snorty, sitting on a cushion on the seat beside me, curls himself in a ball to keep warm.
I try to display charisma, like Rio, by smiling at the journalists sitting in the chairs in front of me.
