Half the camera crew visibly winced.
But none of that mattered. Because even through the vocal carnage, I could hear Roman in the words.
Especially in the line:
If fate won’t let me call you mine, I’ll still be haunted by you, Demi Divine.
He wouldn’t be the only one haunted if this didn’t work out.
Unless, of course, I was made to forget he ever existed.
But even then, I had a feeling my soul would always know it was missing something—someone. Him.
Jonas howled out the last line: “I’ve seen the stars, I’ve heard the sea. But nothing has ever awed me like Demi Divine.”
When he finished, I could see the crew holding back applause, just grateful it was over.
But I sat on my horse, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Jonas grinned. “So, what did you think?”
“It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”
I knew the audience would take that the wrong way. Maybe even Roman would.
But I needed him to know—cheesy or not, I adored it. And it meant everything that he’d given it to another man, just in case it could save me from a fate I didn’t even want to name.
If only he knew that it made me want him more.
“I’ll take this as a positive step forward for us, darling.”
Jonas snapped the reins of his horse and trotted off like he’d just won something.
I followed, knowing this was going to be ratings gold.
But . . . would all this pretending win me the real thing?
Chapter XXXVI
Roman
Isatinthecontrol room, sifting through the latest rounds of dates, and watched in horror as that jackhole Jonas butchered my song.
I still couldn’t believe he’d asked me for one. Said it was my duty—as a Cupid—to help him win Demi.
Smug bastard. The way he’d asked, all self-satisfied, it was almost like he knew how deeply I’d come to feel for her.
My god side had protested. Loudly. But it couldn’t deny the request. We were bound to answer the call of love. And I wanted Demi to hear the words I dared not speak.
Just . . . not like this.
Had I known Jonas couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, I would’ve declined. At least I’d given him one of the lesser ballads.
But watching Demi’s face—her tears, her silence—was worse than the screeching. Jealousy burned through me like wildfire.
Wasn’t it just a few days ago that she’d said she was falling forme? Wasn’t itmylips she’d tried to kiss?
And now she was crying over Jonas’s sad excuse for a serenade.
