I’m certainly not.
As Sofia makes her way back to the palace, she turns to me. “Your sisters are wonderful.”
I shrug. “They’re okay.” I gesture at her phone. “You're not going to use that footage, are you?”
“Do you think you can do better?”
It's more of a challenge than a question.
“Of course I can. You put me off, that’s all.”
“Did I.” It's not a question, and I note it isn't an apology either.
“Well? Go on, then,” she challenges. “The goal is to hit the yellow in the middle, I take it. Do you think you can do it while I film?”
“Only after you've taken your shot first.”
Two can play this game.
“All right.” She unbuttons her blazer and slides it off, exposing a form-fitting white, sleeveless top underneath. Coupled with her pencil skirt, all her womanly curves are plain to see.
Another involuntary shiver races through me before I have the chance to look away.
Why does she have to be so darn sexy? I mean, she’s not even trying, and she somehow manages to make me incapable of doing anything other than gawking at her like a love-struck teen.
She’s just a woman here to do a job. I’ve got this.
My brain may be shoutingNo! Stay away!at the top of its lungs, but my hormones? They’re another matter entirely. My hormones are telling me in no uncertain terms that this woman is sexy as all get out. Sexy and beautiful and smart and totally under my skin.
How the heck am I going to get through the next day, let alone the next month?
She’ll be in my face virtually 24/7, filming me, asking me questions, always…there. Always looking the way she does. Always with that knowing smirk of hers that does things to me, wearing that sexy business outfit. It’s like every one of Ami’s rom-com movies I’ve ever rolled my eyes at have come to life, withmein the starring role.
Only this isn’t a rom com movie. This is mylife. And I refuse to allow any misplaced attraction for Fabiana Fontaine to cloud my better judgment.
As she pulls an arrow from Sofia’s quiver, something catches the light. It’s a necklace with the letter V.
Why would Fabiana Fontaine wear a V necklace around her neck?
Biting her lip, she attempts to attach the arrow to the bow, looking every inch the amateur I hoped she would be.
“Do you need help, Fabiana?” I ask.
“No thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
She fumbles with the bow. “I've done this before, but it was a very long time ago.”
I raise my hands in the air, stepping back. “Okay.”
She holds the bow up and pulls back the string, the arrow bouncing around. I press my lips together to suppress a satisfied laugh bubbling up inside of me.
She has no idea what she's doing.
She releases the arrow, and it glides to the ground in an inelegant arc, landing only two feet away. She looks up at me. “This is harder than it looks,” she admits. “It’s clear I’m no toxophilite.”
“Toxo-what now?”
