Chapter X
Demi
“How bad is it?”
I peeked over Cassie’s shoulder early the next morning, eyes half shut like that might soften the blow of the press’s reaction and the fallout from last night’s interview. I’d basically handed the world a front-row seat to what was probably going to be my undoing.
Jazzy had informed me yesterday that they would waste no time editing said interview and releasing snippets of it. The most awkward interview of my life, mind you.
“Hold on.” Cassie tapped on her contraband phone.
We weren’t supposed to have any electronics or means of contacting the outside world. No news, no social media, no talking to family or friends. Cassie and I weren’t even supposed to be together. But she’d snuck over to my “isolation” cabin last night after her arrival.
Apparently, each cast member had one on the vast resort property.
Mine was cute and cozy. It had a whole wilderness theme going for it—exposed logs and wood beams, a wood-burning stove, textural rugs, leather and plaid furniture.
It was homey, unlike my penthouse that it was possible I would never see again.
And it would be my home—more like my prison—for the summer.
The Love Unscripted crew basically owned me.
I couldn’t leave without their permission or interact with anyone unless they approved it.
Yeah, that didn’t work for me.
Hence, Cassie was staying with me.
It’s always good to have a hex-wielding friend by your side.
Cassie had thrown her brand of magic around the place like she was sprinkling fairy dust to make sure no one would be the wiser to our rebellion.
I was so on edge, I started pacing, even though I shouldn’t have had the energy.
I’d hardly slept the night before as I’d recounted every second of the interview to Cassie.
We’d discussed Roman’s odd behavior ad nauseam.
I wanted to know why he’d gone easy on me.
Not to say his questions weren’t invasive, but it could have been much worse.
He could have been worse. Honestly, he should have been.
I’d laughed at his ridiculous title. In my defense, I had tried not to. But really? Architect of Love? It was so cheesy and cliché.
More than that though, he could have wrecked me because he knew.
He knew what I’d done to my heart. What a fool’s errand this was.
His dang powers had gone straight to my secret.
Thankfully, the lock prevented him from reading my heart or he might have found himself written on part of it.
The goddess inside me wouldn’t erase him from it. I couldn’t fathom why.
Even yesterday, she’d been screaming at me when Roman and I had shaken hands.
After all these years, it was our first touch.
And did my goddess side ever have things to say about it.
The same things she told me when I saw him for the first time when I was sixteen.
She’d told me he was not only who my heart belonged with but a soulmate—a rare thing for humans or gods. She’d lied. And she continued to do so.
Yet, Roman’s and my connection the previous day had felt oddly familiar, like we’d touched before.
But in all the years we’d known each other, we hadn’t.
Truth be told, between Junie and Roman, it was the first time in a long time my heart had shown signs of real life.
It was a comfort to know it was still there.
Not comforting was that it had reacted to Roman and his daughter, of all people.
The goddess part of me was obviously confusing my heart.
I wished I knew why she was still so adamant that we were meant to be together.
She’d been there during our first meeting, where it had been so painfully obvious that he abhorred me.
I didn’t want to think about it. I’d heard everything I needed to hear that day.
All the words he hadn’t spoken. But I’d felt them all the same.
But she was relentless in her lie. She’d held firm to it even after he’d gotten married. Granted, she was right when she’d told me it wouldn’t last. But to believe that Roman was my soulmate and true love was laughable. If that were the case, wouldn’t he already have unlocked my heart?
“Ooh. Okay. Social media and all the major news outlets are blowing up over you,” Cassie sang.
I froze, cringing inside. “Blowing up good or bad?” Not that any of this was good.
Regardless, I’d played my part last night in the name of self-preservation.
I knew I couldn’t come off as a closed-hearted psycho.
Nor did I want to play the victim. I just wanted to control the narrative.
Give people somewhat of an understanding of why I’d disappeared.
I couldn’t tell them the entire truth, but I’d shared what I could.
Or at least what I was semi-comfortable with.
Not that any of this was comfortable.
“You definitely have people intrigued.” Cassie flashed her phone at me.
My stomach twisted into a giant pretzel.
“What does that mean?”
I didn’t want to know, but I had to.
Cassie read aloud the following headlines, her voice dripping with drama:
“Demi Blake Breaks Her Silence, but Is She Ready to Love Out Loud?”
“Hello, Demi Blake! Are We Looking at This Year’s Next Top Model?”
“Olympic Darling Turned Reality TV Enigma: Where Has Demi Really Been?”
“Why Did Niko Themelis Keep His Daughter Hidden from the World?”
“From Gold Medals to a Guarded Heart: What Happened to Demi?”
“Does Roman Archer Have a Soft Spot? Fans Speculate About His Unexpected Interview Tone.”
“Ugh.” I buried my face in my hands and muttered through my fingers, “Maybe I said too much last night. I should’ve just pretended to be my old perky self. Though I’m not even sure I remember how to be perky.”
Cassie set her phone down on the rustic side table beside the plaid couch she’d claimed.
“I think you played it right,” she said. “People can tell when you’re faking it. You were real.”
I lowered my hands. “Yeah, I guess.”
Cassie tilted her head, a mischievous smile curling her lips.
“There were several photos of Roman during the interview plastered all over. Why didn’t you mention how enamored he was with you?”
“What?” I spat. “He wasn’t enamored with me.”
I knew that for a fact. He’d felt torn. I didn’t get specifics—just this low hum of consternation. Like he was warring with himself.
The usual hate I felt rolling off him whenever I was near? It wasn’t as present. At times it had vanished altogether. And that unsettled me more than the hate ever had.
I wished I couldn’t read his feelings at all.
Or anyone’s, for that matter.
Seriously, Miles and Jazzy probably needed to each take a cold shower. Their very graphic longing had nearly pushed me to send out a love pulse yesterday—just to quiet the noise and reclaim a sliver of peace.
But their relationship? So against my guidebook.
No doubt my father would be approving their union any minute now.
Workplace romance was a dangerous game. One I didn’t wish to watch this summer.
“Well, he looked pretty smitten to me. And I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“Who else thinks that?” I snapped—sharper than I meant to.
Cassie didn’t seem bothered. Her Cheshire Cat grin only widened.
“Oh, so many people. Shall I read the comments?”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling icky.
“People want to know if he still has a poster of you hanging on his wall.”
Okay. That had been a weird revelation. Like, so weird.
But people were taking it all wrong. Roman Archer did not have romantic feelings for me.
Believe me, as a goddess of love, I would know.
Or at least I thought so. Obviously, the divine part of me had some screws loose.
I wasn’t sure why he’d had a poster of me, but I didn’t need to know. It was no one’s business.
Especially not mine.
Cassie waggled her dark eyebrows. The contrast with her platinum hair made her look even more mischievous.
“I think he had a crush on you.”
“No, please don’t say that. I can’t ever afford to think like that,” I pleaded.
There was a time I’d wanted Roman’s affection more than anything, and when he didn’t give it, I’d been devastated. Sure, looking back, it was ridiculous to think that I would have met my soulmate as a teenager. But my goddess side had been so sure that I’d easily fallen for it.
And to be fair, even if she hadn’t thrown me headlong in his direction, I still would have fallen for him.
I’d watched him for a year every time he’d come to visit my father, and I’d foolishly thought there was something different about him.
Something about how kind he was to everyone and how easily he laughed.
But when I finally worked up the nerve to introduce myself to him, that boy was gone.
I’d often wondered if he’d ever existed.
If my divine side had tricked me into seeing something that wasn’t there.
Cassie tilted her head. “Demi, what aren’t you telling me?”
I’d told her about locking my heart after she decided to join the cast. I figured she should know how pointless an endeavor this was. And despite my heart being closed off, I did value our friendship. Now more than ever.
“It’s nothing. Stupid, really. And it doesn’t matter because we know Roman is definitely not my true love. Honestly, I don’t know if anyone is. And if that’s the case, I won’t even know who Roman is—who you are—come the first full moon in August,” my voice hitched.
She stood, brushing off her leggings.
“Don’t say that,” Cassie demanded in her scary-but-loving voice. “We are going to fulfill this quest with style and pizzazz and find your true love. We are also going to talk about Roman. But later. If you want to run, you’d better go now. My magic can only cover so many areas at once.”
I nodded and zipped up my black hoodie. Despite not being a world-class athlete any longer, I still trained every day.
It was too ingrained in me. Normally I ran on my treadmill and lifted weights in my gym, but the cabin lacked such equipment.
Besides, it had been a long time since I’d taken a run outside among trees, air, life.
Coming out of my penthouse had made me realize all the things I was missing out on. You know, like, living.
“Thank you.”
Lady Goldy flew from my bedroom and landed on my shoulder. She would act as my protector from humans and animals. The last thing I needed was to be eaten by a grizzly bear. Although it would probably be less painful than starring in a reality TV show.
“Demi,” Cassie said carefully. “You don’t have a crush on Roman, do you?”
“No,” I was adamant. That ship had sailed, gotten hit with a missile, and sunk to the depths of the ocean.
“Oh, good. Just checking. He has such a little-g-in-gods complex, and I can’t wait to mess with him during my interview today.”
I laughed, already imagining the chaos.
“See you soon.”
I waved and hustled toward the door, nervous energy crackling through me like static. I needed to clear my head—especially of a certain TV host whose voice still echoed in mine. Stepping onto the covered porch, I paused.
The early-morning sun spilled golden light across the wood planks, warming my skin despite the crisp mountain air. Pine needles glistened with dew. A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of earth and something that felt outside the constraints of time.
I inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the tension that had wrapped itself around my ribs.
Above me, wings fluttered. Lady Goldy took flight, her feathers catching the sunlight like molten metal. She circled once overhead, then swooped down to land back on my shoulder with a soft thud—her talons gentle, her presence grounding.
“Let’s go,” I whispered as I jogged down the front porch steps.
The scenery was stunning—towering pines casting long shadows across a meadow bursting with wildflowers in every shade imaginable. The creek trickled nearby, its soft murmur joining the birdsong in a quiet symphony of morning.
My mom would’ve loved this place. She always said nature was the closest thing to heaven.
My feet hit the dirt trail, and something about the rhythm of it—thud, thud, thud—made me feel alive again. Like my body remembered who it was before the accident, before my heartbreak and the revelation of my demigodhood.
But then I heard it. Another thud. Not mine. I slowed, breath catching. The sound was steady, deliberate. Not the erratic rustle of a squirrel or the flutter of wings.
Footsteps.
Behind me.
Lady Goldy took off, her wings slicing through the air, sending off a warning. Or at least I thought that’s what she was doing. She circled, but didn’t land or ward off the unwelcome company.
I turned my head just enough to glance over my shoulder. Someone was there. Running. Matching my pace.
Not just any someone . . . Roman.