I realized it was the first time we had ever touched.
“I’m Demi,” she stuttered as if she, too, felt the currents between us. As if parts of ourselves were converging without our permission.
And then the Cupid in me went straight to her heart. It wasn’t intentional. It definitely wasn’t what I expected. What the hell? She’d . . . she’d done the unthinkable. It wasn’t supposed to be possible. Or at least I’d never known any other god or goddess who had been successful at such a drastic and inadvisable piece of magic. No wonder she came off as an ice queen.
Demi knew immediately what had happened. That I knew her secret. She pulled away, blinking, dazed, furious, scared.
She’d locked her heart.
Did her father know? If so, did he know the impossible task he’d given me? Her? Demi didn’t need only to find love. It had to betruelove.
I cleared my throat and looked around us, wondering if anyone else had noticed what had happened between Demi and me. No one seemed the wiser. They were all still smirking as if waiting for a showdown between us.
Jazzy gave me a nod, telling me to proceed, before she stood in the corner to watch the fireworks.
“Please have a seat.” I waved to the velvet chair across from mine.
Demi walked over slowly and lowered herself carefully into the chair, as if bracing for impact. She had to know the uncomfortable questions about her past were coming and that this would be more of a reckoning than an interview. I had to know that she wasn’t just here to make me look like a fool or to sabotage my show.
But what I really wanted to know was why she’d locked her heart. Did she know what she’d done to herself?
Frederick immediately zoomed her way with a mic pack. He blushed like a schoolboy. “Um, I need to, uh. Well, place this—”
“Here, let me help you.” Demi smiled, immediately putting him at ease. She took the mic and clipped it like a pro to one of the tiny straps holding up her dress.
Whowasthis woman?
One minute she made me feel like an idiot. The next, like I was being woven into the makings of a Greek tragedy (this quest of hers was going to be damn near impossible to complete). And then, in the following breath, she was charming my crew like she’d been born for this.
Once Demi was situated, the segment producer gave me the go-ahead. I sat up tall and made eye contact with the beauty and the beast across from me.
“Welcome toLove Unscripted, Demi. I’m Roman Archer, Architect of Love.” I introduced myself as I had at least a hundred times before on the show, hoping she’d gotten the snickering out of her system earlier.
No such luck.
Demi pressed her lips together, holding back a laugh, judging by how red in the face she turned. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep her derision in, and a giggle leaked out of her pink-painted lips. They added a softness to her that I couldn’t help but recognize.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t get over a grown man calling himself that.”
I didn’t flinch even though I could see Jazzy in the background ready to lose her composure. Obviously entertained.
“I assure you, I’ve more than earned the title.”
“If you say so,” Demi zinged back.
I was ready to fire back, to remind her who ran this show. She no longer had the backing of the Bureau she’d so carelessly run. But just as I was ready to lambast her, this thought popped into my mind:Protect her.That thought didn’t come from either side of myself. The gods were meddling.
As far as I could tell, Demi didn’t need me to protect her. She was doing fine on her own. So I opened my mouth to ask her why she had come out of seclusion to join this season’s cast. Was it for attention? The need to be back in the spotlight? The words were forming. I was going to say them.
Then . . . her glasses slipped down her nose, and her kaleidoscope eyes caught hold of me. A flicker of defiance flashed in them, almost begging me to let her have it, but in the next breath I saw the fear, the uncertainty. Worse, the girl I used to watch on TV.
That’s when these words fell out of my mouth:
“Demi, I think all your fans and admirers want to know how you’ve been. Where have you been?”
Demi pushed her glasses up and blinked several times. From the corner of my eye, I could see Jazzy tilting her head, questioning why I hadn’t let the sparks fly.
As Demi sat there planning her response, more words came. It was my voice, but definitely not me.
