Chapter XX
Roman
I had to remind myself not to stare at Demi. Her silhouette in front of the fire was impossible to ignore—the flames licking the air behind her in the twilight of evening, casting gold across her skin. That sundress of hers was doing me in. And every male cast member, apparently.
Each one vied for her attention with nauseating enthusiasm. None of them had a shot. That much I knew. My divine had spoken. Not one of them was her match.
And I could tell Demi knew. She read them—read me—like a book. And I couldn’t say I liked it. It gave her an unfair advantage. Though, judging by the way she’d looked at me before we boarded the wagons, she was confused. Upset.
She had to be wondering, just like I was—what the hell kind of turn had this quest taken?
If none of these yahoos making passes at her were meant for her . . . then who was?
Meanwhile, my Cupid was scripting out another sonnet for her like we had a shot. “Goddess by the Firelight.”
She stands where flame and shadow intertwine,
her sundress clinging to the dusk’s desire.
The stars lean in; her pulse turns near-divine,
and mortal hearts ignite with borrowed fire.
Her gaze — half storm, half sanctuary’s grace —
unravels truths we swore we’d never speak.
She reads the ache we hide behind our face
and finds the fault lines trembling in the weak.
Enough.
I made him stop before he tempted me to sing it out loud to her.
That’s all I needed—a sonnet serenade to the goddess by the firelight. My show was already teetering on the edge of cancellation. Especially with Demi determined to turn it into a glorified Hallmark movie with zero drama.
Even now, I could hear her over the fiddle and banjo players providing the music.
“Braden, have you met Maggie yet? She’s seriously the cutest, and you are going to love her. See her over there?”
She pointed across the hoedown at Maggie, who was sipping lemonade and doing her best to stay out of the fray.
What the hell was she doing? I mean, I knew what she was doing. She’d warned me. But damn her.
Not that she was wrong. I had an inkling Braden and Maggie would make a good match. But I needed to lead the cast and audience along. Not have Demi fast-track the plot like she was an executive producer.
My crew noticed too, and they were less than thrilled.
In fact, they were downright antsy about the situation, pacing back and forth, wringing hands, watching Demi like a hawk.
We’d already had team meetings about Demi flipping the script.
Never had we had a cast member like her.
If they only knew the half of it and who they were really dealing with.
I’d delicately tried to lead them down the path of let’s see how it plays out, fearing if we tried to control her, she and Cassie—and for all I knew, Zeus—would obliterate the entire season.
Cassie already looked two seconds away from throwing gasoline on the bonfire and letting it torch the entire set.
Although I had to wonder what Zeus was up to.
What was his plan if none of the male cast members were meant for Demi?
Surely he hadn’t sent her on this quest to fail.
Hadn’t Eros told me how important she was and how important it was for her to fall in love and use her gifts?
Well, she was certainly using them now. To annoying effect.
It was like she’d become the cruise director on The Love Boat.
And all I could do was hope she didn’t sink the ship.
Thankfully, the caller of the band shouted, “All right, fellas, grab a partner. It’s time to square dance.”
Demi shot me a look that said, Really?
Yes, I knew it was hokey, but audiences loved this kind of thing.
Jax, Blaine, and Carter all lined up to ask Demi.
Lucky fools, the sonnet-composing side of me thought.
Demi had other ideas. “You all are so sweet. But . . .”
I braced myself, knowing I wasn’t going to like what she did next.
“Jax, you need to dance with Brinley. You’ll like her much more than me.” She patted him on the back like he was a good little boy. Was she giving him a love pulse? She wouldn’t sink that low, would she?
Jax shrugged and walked off, downcast. So maybe she hadn’t given him a love pulse.
Still, it wasn’t her place to make matches. That was my job.
“Blaine, I think you and Jessica have a lot in common. You should ask her.”
He opened his mouth to disagree, but she wagged her finger, smiling a heart-stopping smile. “No arguing,” she sang. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
The cameras were all zoomed in on the spectacle she was making. This was a nightmare. Where was Demi, queen of the dead, when I needed her? Not this sparkly goddess whose behavior I wanted to berate but whose curves I wanted to feel under my fingertips.
By the time she sent Carter over to dance with Paloma, I threw up my hands.
So it surprised me when she walked over to Todd, the guy I’d deemed the boring accountant, who was nursing a root beer near the refreshment table.
He was average as they come. Average build, height, net worth.
He wasn’t usually the kind of cast member drawn to our show, but Jazzy had thought we needed to mix it up a bit this season.
Every eye seemed to follow Demi, wondering the same thing as me. With a model and a former NBA player on the table, why choose Todd?
I moved in closer, unable to help myself, though I did my best to keep my face professional.
Todd himself seemed to be thinking the same thing as everyone else. Why me? Demi’s attention took him so off guard, he dribbled some root beer down his shirt.
Demi smiled as he tried to pat his shirt dry with his hand.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.
“No, you’re not. I do that kind of thing all the time.” She said it softly, trying to put him at ease.
I had a feeling she didn’t do things like that all the time. Demi was very much in control—of her emotions, her body, her presence. She didn’t stumble. She didn’t spill.
Todd blushed and set his drink on the table. “I’m Todd,” he stuttered.
“I’m Demi.”
“I know. Everyone knows who you are.”
“Hmm. I suppose they do.” Her tone carried a weight—like it wasn’t exactly something she was happy about.
“Since you know me,” she said, “tell me about yourself.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell.”
She slid closer to him, a sly grin curving across her perfect face. “Well, let me tell you about you, then.”
Todd tilted his head, obviously intrigued.
I shook mine, knowing the powers she possessed. She was like a damn Jedi. And I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“Let’s see.” She gave him a good once-over, her smile fading. “You’re in love. Deeply in love.”
His brow creased. “How do you know that?”
“I’m good at reading people.”
Oh, hell. This wasn’t going to be good. If only I could yell, cut, like we were on a movie set.
“Tell me about her,” Demi gently prodded.
“Olivia,” he whispered. “She was my everything.”
Demi swallowed hard. “She broke up with you out of the blue, didn’t she?”
Todd blinked. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” she sighed. “But if you were so in love with her, why are you here?”
Todd looked around. “Honestly, I don’t know. It sounds weird, but I felt like maybe I would find some answers here.”
Demi placed a hand on his arm. “I’m going to help you find them. Even if it means getting Olivia on this show.”
What was she even saying? I screamed in my head. She had no authority here.
Jazzy and Miles both shot me a what do we do look.
Normally, we didn’t intervene while cast members interacted.
This was Love Unscripted for a reason. We wanted the process to feel natural, unpredictable, real.
And I was only supposed to be on camera at the beginning of each episode, plus for interviews and dramatic reveals.
Not mid-hoedown, trying to wrangle a devious matchmaking goddess.
But the control room was already flagging the moment. I could feel it—someone was probably whispering, “Do we let this play out or prep a network note?”
Jazzy gave Miles a shove.
He stumbled forward and yelled, “Sorry, we’re having some technical difficulties here!” He was obviously lying. “Let’s just regroup for a second,” he added, voice cracking. “Everyone, get something to eat and drink.”
Jazzy covertly pointed at Demi and mouthed, Fix this now.
I didn’t know what she thought I could do. I was the last person Demi was going to listen to. She hated me now more than ever. But I supposed I’d better try before the network started handing out pink slips like they were candy.
I skirted past the nearest camera op, George, before I made my way to Demi, who was still talking to Todd like she was his therapist.
“Hey, I need you to keep what I’m going to do off camera. I’m trying to save our jobs here,” I whispered. And myself. The last thing I needed was for someone to notice that I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I was still catching flak about the poster-on-the-wall thing.
“No problem. Good luck, man.” George flicked his head toward Demi. “She’s quite the character. I like her, so go easy on her.”
Great, just what I needed—my crew joining her fan club.
She was coming off as charming, I’d give her that. But I didn’t need her to be charming. I needed her to let me do my job. I was already planning on bringing in Todd’s ex-fiancée during Temptation Week. I didn’t need any spoiler alerts here.
Now to find a way to get Demi away from everyone without drawing attention to it.
I seriously thought about letting some of the horses loose to cause a distraction.
But then—the clear night sky fractured. Clouds rolled in fast and furious, like someone had ripped open the heavens.
The stars vanished in a blink. The wind whipped around us, sharp and sudden, snatching hats and any sense of calm.
Some of the women screamed. Miles was calling to save the equipment. Everyone scattered, running for cover—except for Demi and Cassie. They didn’t flinch. They knew exactly what this was. It was the damn gods. Zeus, if I had to guess.
But . . . maybe this was just the distraction I needed. Had Zeus gifted this to me?
Carter played the hero, grabbing Cassie’s hand.
“Come on! We need to get out of here.”
Cassie hesitated, her gaze flicking between Demi and me. Then she nodded—like she knew. Like she understood she needed to leave us alone. How odd.
And just like that, it was Demi and me. Alone in the eye of the storm. Her fiery hair whipped around her face, wild and untamed, as if the wind answered to her. She looked like a vision—a goddess mid-summoning, as if the chaos belonged to her.
Lightning cracked somewhere behind us. The air pulsed with electricity; something dangerous was in the air. And in that moment, instinct took over. I ran toward her, heart pounding.
I grabbed her hand, and miraculously, she didn’t pull away.
Not that the Cupid in me was going to let her go without a fight.
He needed to know her heart. But first, I needed to get us to safety.
As soon as I thought it, I caught a glimpse of the nearby forest, which seemed entirely unaffected by the storm.
“This way,” I shouted above the noise, not caring about the rest of the cast or crew, who should have been my chief priority. But the connection between Demi and me was undeniable, all-encompassing. My only thought was getting her to safety.
Which, as far as my heart was concerned, was probably the least safe thing I could do.