“It’s not like I want to know how you feel,” she said, voice light. “But if you want to know how I feel, you could just ask me.” She smirked. “And I may or may not tell you.”
Dang if I didn’t want to kiss that smirk off her face. This was so wrong. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake the feeling. I had a show to run. A show she was trying to single-handedly sabotage.
“Well, tell me this, then: What do you think you’re doing playing matchmaker on my show? Are you trying to get it canceled? What’s your endgame here?”
“My endgame?” Demi wrapped her arms around herself, her voice lower, uneven.
She was probably cold. The bonfire was long behind us, and the forest air had turned nippy.
If I’d worn a jacket, I would have given it to her. But my vest wouldn’t cut it, and if I offered her my shirt—well, that would be a whole other headline if anyone caught us together.
Producer caught half-naked in woods with cast member.
Not exactly the kind of press we needed.
“You know what the endgame is,” she said, voice pitched high and trembling. “I cease to be a demigoddess and—for all I know—Demi, come the full moon in August.”
“What do you mean?”
She glared at me, eyes sharp and glistening, piercing through every defense I had left.
“I know you know that none of the men cast this season are meant for me. Maybe you did that on purpose. Maybe you planned the entire thing with my father and Zeus to punish me for all my mistakes. I don’t know.”
Her voice teetered on the edge of collapse, and I tried to interrupt—tried to tell her I would never do such a thing, even if she was the bane of my existence. Even though she made me feel like I was losing my mind.
But she wouldn’t let me speak.
“The only thing I do know,” she cried, “is that this quest is just to make me pay for my sins. I get it now. Okay? I ruined everyone’s love lives and the whole world. So my only endgame, Roman Archer, is to make sure everyone cast this season gets their happy ending—and then you and my father can fix all my mistakes and make the world a better place.”
I stared, stunned, trying to unwrap her words and the unfounded accusations she’d hurled at me. But mostly, I was trying to fight off my Cupid’s ache to hold her and soothe her pain. And it wasn’t just that side of me. I didn’t want her to hurt like this.
So, I did the worst thing possible—I wrapped my arms around her shivering body. At first, even though she trembled from the cold, she stiffened to the point that I almost let go, especially knowing she would read just how much I enjoyed it—the feel of her soft skin, her silky hair, and the way she smelled of sandalwood. But then she gave in and sank against me, her breath stilted. It was almost as if she were trying me on. She didn’t even complain about how part of me was relentlessly trying to break into her heart. It was a vain pursuit, yet that part of me persisted.
“You’re warm,” she said after a few beats, as if giving an excuse for clinging to me.
“You looked cold. It’s why I’m hugging you.” It was a clumsy, transparent lie. I sounded like an idiot. I was an idiot.
I looked up at the sky, which was once again clear. The stars shone brighter than normal. I wanted to curse and thank Zeus all at once for this moment, even if I wasn’t entirely sure why he’d bestowed it upon us.
This would be a good time to sing her a sonnet,my Cupid nudged.
That was never going to happen. Because despite what Demi thought, I knew her father would never send her on a quest she was meant to fail. I also knew I wasn’t the right man to unlock her heart.
“Demi,” I murmured. “I didn’t choose the cast members. I had no idea none of them would be a match until today. AndI know your father would never do anything if he thought it meant losing you.”
She scoffed against my chest. “My father ignored me for the first sixteen years of my life. And I’ve done a terrible job running the Bureau, so I’m not so sure.”
“I’ll give you the one about the Bureau,” I teased. Although it was true.
She tried to untangle herself from me, but I just couldn’t let her go. Not yet. The need to try to see into her heart was becoming something primal.
“You’re cold, and I don’t have a coat to offer you. This is the best I can do,” I said, fumbling.Smooth. Real smooth.Who was I? I was a Cupid. Smooth was supposed to be my game.
“Um . . . well . . . I am cold.” She settled back against me.
My Cupid sighed.Idiot.
I rubbed her back—in a purely gentlemanly way, of course. Friction created heat. Not that we needed any more of that. It felt like there was enough between us to ignite the entire forest. At least on my end.
