Roman and I locked eyes, and I glared at him. The deepest sense of loathing filled me. He had to have known this was the plan all along. Maybe he was thearchitectof it.
Roman’s brows furrowed, confused by my reaction.
How could he be? Then again, he probably thought I wanted this role. He knew my secret, after all, and he’d once accused me of knowing nothing of love. I felt so foolish for believing all his friendship garbage that morning.
To be fair, I was the villain in my own story. The goddess of love who’d locked her own heart. But I had my reasons, and I wished I had remembered them and not let Roman fool me again. I didn’t care if Zeus wanted us to be friends. I’d rather have a tree fall on me at this rate. Or even be cast out of the realm of the gods. Maybe then I could forget all of this.
My only saving grace in all of this was Cassie, who must have clued in on what was going on. She ran toward me, shrieking like a fangirl. “Oh. My. Gosh. It’s Demi Blake. You’re my hero.”
As soon as Cassie threw her arms around me, I sank into them and whispered for her ears only, “Thank you.”
“Smile,” she reminded me. “You got this.”
Isodid not have this. But I smiled anyway.
“Oh. Wow. Thank you.” I tried to channel my old self. “I always love meeting fans.”
Jazzy’s smile faltered.
“Well,” she said, disappointed—like I’d just foiled the crew’s master plan. “Shall we make introductions?”
Note to self: Do not be a pawn for ratings. Don’t let anyone else tell my story.
Maybe I didn’t know who I was anymore. But I knew who I wasn’t. And I wasn’t going to play the villain.
I linked arms with Cassie, and together we walked toward the other women. They looked a little confused now—unsure how to behave around me. I could feel the shift. Their attitudes were recalibrating, but judgment was still pending.
It was strange. They wanted a villain. They wanted someone to hate. Why?
Jazzy started making introductions. Names and stats for each woman flew like confetti.
Brinley McCall from Tennessee. An influencer. She had a practiced smile and long, flowy blonde hair. Her dress was bubblegum pink, her heels sky high, and her energy screamed main character. She saw me as a rival. I could feel it.
Up next was Maggie Lane from Wisconsin. A bakery owner. Her vibe was as warm as her yellow dress, but guarded—she was doing her best to withhold judgment. I could feel that she was just as uncomfortable as I was being here.
Then there was Paloma Cruz from Arizona. A firefighter. Very cool. She stood strong and proud, as if she could carry a whole roomful of people out of a burning building—and probably had. Her dress was red and bold and shimmered against her soft-brown skin and dark waves. She didn’t flinch when our eyes met. Her feelings regarding me were steady. She wanted to see what I was made of.
That left Jessica Wynn from Vermont. A paralegal and apparently an aspiring influencer. She wore lavender and kept glancing at Brinley like she was waiting for permissionto breathe. Weird. And, oddly, she and Brinley had almost identical hair color and style. Her smile was sweet, but her energy was scattered. She wanted to be liked. She wanted to be a Brinley. And she wasn’t sure if liking me would ruin her chances.
Every woman looked around the same age, late twenties to early thirties.
Jazzy saved Cassie and me for last.
“This is Cassie Fairchild. She’s from Kansas. She’s a mechanic and owns her own garage, where she restores classic cars.”
Everyone seemed in awe of her and her combat boots. They didn’t see her as competition the way they saw me. I didn’t understand it. Maybe it was my previous fame. Or maybe Roman had already poisoned the women against me.
I noticed him skirting around. Watching. Studying. Planning.
I threw him another scathing glance.
Again, he seemed shocked by it. Really?
The nagging, lying part of me begged myself to withhold judgment, but she’d never seen him clearly.
“And . . . our last cast member is none other than Demi Blake,” Jazzy trilled. “Not that she needs much of an introduction. I’m sure you all recognize her. She was such a media darling back in the day. And here she is back for more.”
Did she want these women not to like me? It was like she was saying,Here’s the shining star of the show—try not to hate her too much.And, hello, I wasn’t back for more. Here I’d thought Jazzy was a nice person. She was so not getting a love pulse from me. Or maybe I should consider it. She deserved an awkward workplace romance for this.
