Demi stood just outside the entrance to the room. And from the way she narrowed her eyes at Jazzy, I could’ve sworn she’d overheard our conversation. Except the room was soundproof.
Or maybe Demi was just reading her.
“Hello, Demi,” Jazzy said, all innocence. “I hope you’re doing well. You seemed . . . quite shocked last night.”
There was no hiding how pleased she was about it.
“I sure was.” Demi’s smile was filled with mischief. “I can only imagine how happy that made you.”
She reached for Jazzy’s hand. “And I have a feeling you’re about to be even more ecstatic.”
Oh, hell.I realized what Demi was doing a second too late.
Jazzy blinked, dazed for a beat—then lit up like someone had turned on the lights inside of her.
“I think you’re right.” She sighed dreamily. “I need to go find Miles.”
Demi let go of her hand. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
I shook my head, stunned. She’d given Jazzy a love pulse.
Not that I hadn’t thought about it myself—but workplace romance was a hard no in Demi’s guidebook.
Did this mean she was rewriting her rules? My next dangerous thought:Would she consider an enemies-to-lovers situation?Translation—us. What was I even thinking? Demi needed to find her true love.
“Have fun, you two,” Jazzy chirped, jogging off like she hadn’t just been thrust into the plot of her very own rom-com.
I flashed Demi a look that said,I know exactly what you just did.
I wasn’t mad. Honestly, it was kind of brilliant. Maybe even poetic justice. Jazzy had upended Demi’s life—and now Demi was upending hers.
The added bonus? Jazzy would be too busy chasing Miles to meddle in Demi’s love life. Was Demi an evil genius? Maybe.
I just hoped she was okay after last night. She didn’t seem as shaken, so maybe the shock had worn off. Maybe I wouldn’t have to pummel Jonas after all.
Demi shrugged as if to say,I don’t know what you’re talking about.She knew very well what she had done.
“Come in, Demi,” I said, aiming for professional. But my voice betrayed me. My eyes had already taken her in—every detail. The way she’d swept her hair up, like a romantic heroine. The green sundress that clung to her curves, baring smooth shoulders that made my pulse go wild. The urge to pull her close and taste her lips was almost unbearable.
She slipped past me, deliberately avoiding my gaze. I was sure of it.
Was she upset with me for not fighting harder to keep Jonas off the show? The last time we were together, her kiss had said otherwise. But maybe she was having second thoughts.
And why the hell was I feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy again?
Once Demi was mic’d, she took the chair across from me. She nibbled her lower lip, eyes wide and wounded. She blamed me. I could feel it.
Damn it. How was I supposed to fix this? Should I even try? The clock was ticking on her quest, and things weren’t looking good.
No time to question my entire life’s trajectory. Jules gave me the thumbs-up. Showtime.
“Demi,” I said—with too much emotion, too little control. “Would you like to recap last night? What was it like seeing Jonas again?”
“What was it like?” Her voice cracked, trembling on the edge of tears. “Didn’t you see me run off? I can’t believe he’s here.”
She sounded betrayed. Like I was the one who’d betrayed her.
Why hadn’t she made it clearer when I told her Jonas was coming on the show? I’d honestly thought they were still friends from how she’d spoken about him during one of our runs.
