Chapter XXXII
Roman
I paced the Blueprint Room, trying to burn off the nervous energy coiled tight in my chest before interviewing Demi. Every muscle in me ached to sneak away and talk to her alone, but after last night’s spectacle, there hadn’t been a moment.
Was she okay? Why the hell hadn’t she told me she never wanted to see Jonas again?
What had that bastard done to her to leave her so shaken?
He hadn’t even looked rattled—just stood there in the clearing, smug as ever.
All he’d managed to say after she’d run off was, “Come on, love, we were so good together.”
If I’d known how much it would hurt her, I would’ve fought harder to keep him off the show.
“What’s wrong, Roman?” Jazzy’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You’re pacing like a caged tiger. You should be thrilled—after last night, we’ll be back on top of the ratings. But we do have a situation with Gemma and Gia. They can’t stop vomiting.”
I kept my expression neutral, though I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Even from across the field last night, I’d caught Cassie’s murderous I’ll hex you into oblivion glare. Honestly, I was more surprised Carter hadn’t gone down with them.
“Did Dr. Cartwright have a look at them?” I asked.
We always kept medical staff on hand.
“Yes, she’s got them both on IV fluids, but she’s worried they may need more advanced care.”
I suspected the only real cure was for them to leave. And honestly, we didn’t need them. There’d be plenty of drama with the exes who remained. My priority wasn’t them anyway. It was Demi.
Why hadn’t Cassie hexed Jonas? Had he threatened her—or Demi?
“Tell her to do whatever she thinks is best,” I said, waving it off. The truth was, I didn’t want them here. I didn’t want the show to slide into cheap and icky, as Demi would say. I wanted her to be proud of me. To see that I hadn’t sold out. That I hadn’t cheapened love for ratings.
“I’ll let her know. Are you sure you’re okay? Or are you just dreading interviewing Demi?” Jazzy scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I’d never cast her. She almost ruined the entire season. But after last night, I’m almost ready to forgive her.”
I narrowed my eyes at Jazzy, biting back the diatribe burning in my throat. How dare she say anything against Demi. The urge to defend her surged hot and fast, but I forced it down. The last thing I needed was the studio sniffing around, asking more questions about my feelings for her.
Feelings I couldn’t even name. They lived in that maddening space between I can’t stop thinking about her and she drives me insane.
I decided to take a different approach. A more professional one.
“Do you ever stop and wonder if what we do actually helps people? Are we really in the business of love?”
Jazzy pressed the back of her hand to my forehead.
“Are you coming down with something too? Where’s this sudden philosophy kick coming from?
We’re here to make the studio money. If people happen to find love along the way, great.
Now, get Demi to open up about Jonas. The ratings will be through the roof.
Finally, little Miss Everyone’s Friend did something interesting. ”
My fists clenched at my sides. I bit back the words I wanted to hurl at her. How dare she reduce Demi to a storyline. Demi was trying to do the right thing—the thing I should have been doing. Helping people find love.
And more than that, I needed to help her find it. Even if it killed me.
“At least her heart’s in the right place.” I couldn’t help it—I had to defend her.
Jazzy looked down her nose at me.
“So is mine. I’m here to save this show—and apparently, you from yourself. I say this as your friend—be careful. Don’t throw your career away for her. For all we know, she played us to get on the show. I’m not buying her sudden one-eighty.”
I could see why she’d think that. From the outside, it probably did look like Demi had fooled us.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine,” I lied.
I was anything but fine. Demi was turning out to be my kryptonite—and I was falling for her, hard, when I damn well knew I couldn’t have her.
Jazzy patted my arm. “I’m just worried about you. I’ve never seen you like this.”
That was because no one but Demi had ever affected me like this before. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to play it off.
“Back-to-back seasons has just been a lot.”
“Well, I think we are back on track. I don’t think Demi has any chance of making our new set of cast members all friends. Cassie looked like she might strangle Carter last night. That could be fun,” she chirped.
More and more, I questioned whether I was architecting love or ratings. And Jazzy seriously underestimated Demi. But I didn’t say a word.
“Well, good luck.” She waved and headed for the door. “I’m off to check in with the doctor about Gemma and Gia.”
Demi stood just outside the entrance to the room. And from the way she narrowed her eyes at Jazzy, I could’ve sworn she’d overheard our conversation. Except the room was soundproof.
Or maybe Demi was just reading her.
“Hello, Demi,” Jazzy said, all innocence. “I hope you’re doing well. You seemed . . . quite shocked last night.”
There was no hiding how pleased she was about it.
“I sure was.” Demi’s smile was filled with mischief. “I can only imagine how happy that made you.”
She reached for Jazzy’s hand. “And I have a feeling you’re about to be even more ecstatic.”
Oh, hell. I realized what Demi was doing a second too late.
Jazzy blinked, dazed for a beat—then lit up like someone had turned on the lights inside of her.
“I think you’re right.” She sighed dreamily. “I need to go find Miles.”
Demi let go of her hand. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
I shook my head, stunned. She’d given Jazzy a love pulse.
Not that I hadn’t thought about it myself—but workplace romance was a hard no in Demi’s guidebook.
Did this mean she was rewriting her rules? My next dangerous thought: Would she consider an enemies-to-lovers situation? Translation—us. What was I even thinking? Demi needed to find her true love.
“Have fun, you two,” Jazzy chirped, jogging off like she hadn’t just been thrust into the plot of her very own rom-com.
I flashed Demi a look that said, I know exactly what you just did.
I wasn’t mad. Honestly, it was kind of brilliant. Maybe even poetic justice. Jazzy had upended Demi’s life—and now Demi was upending hers.
The added bonus? Jazzy would be too busy chasing Miles to meddle in Demi’s love life. Was Demi an evil genius? Maybe.
I just hoped she was okay after last night. She didn’t seem as shaken, so maybe the shock had worn off. Maybe I wouldn’t have to pummel Jonas after all.
Demi shrugged as if to say, I don’t know what you’re talking about. She knew very well what she had done.
“Come in, Demi,” I said, aiming for professional.
But my voice betrayed me. My eyes had already taken her in—every detail.
The way she’d swept her hair up, like a romantic heroine.
The green sundress that clung to her curves, baring smooth shoulders that made my pulse go wild.
The urge to pull her close and taste her lips was almost unbearable.
She slipped past me, deliberately avoiding my gaze. I was sure of it.
Was she upset with me for not fighting harder to keep Jonas off the show? The last time we were together, her kiss had said otherwise. But maybe she was having second thoughts.
And why the hell was I feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy again?
Once Demi was mic’d, she took the chair across from me. She nibbled her lower lip, eyes wide and wounded. She blamed me. I could feel it.
Damn it. How was I supposed to fix this? Should I even try? The clock was ticking on her quest, and things weren’t looking good.
No time to question my entire life’s trajectory. Jules gave me the thumbs-up. Showtime.
“Demi,” I said—with too much emotion, too little control. “Would you like to recap last night? What was it like seeing Jonas again?”
“What was it like?” Her voice cracked, trembling on the edge of tears. “Didn’t you see me run off? I can’t believe he’s here.”
She sounded betrayed. Like I was the one who’d betrayed her.
Why hadn’t she made it clearer when I told her Jonas was coming on the show? I’d honestly thought they were still friends from how she’d spoken about him during one of our runs.
“His presence obviously upsets you. Why? What happened in your past?”
She tipped her head back, eyes on the ceiling, and exhaled. “I can’t talk about it. It’s just too painful.”
A rage I didn’t recognize surged inside me. Never had I wanted to maim someone the way I wanted to maim Jonas.
“Did he hurt you?” The words slipped out, too personal, but I had to know. If he had, I was already calculating how to avenge her.
“No. No,” she said quickly. “It’s not like that.” She offered nothing else on the matter.
“Maybe if you talked about it, it would help.”
I had to stop myself from reaching for her.
She finally met my gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. I hadn’t even known she could be this raw with her heart locked. Jonas must have shattered something deep.
“That’s really sweet,” she whispered, “but some things are better left in the past.”
“So you’re saying you don’t think there’s a future for you and Jonas.”
“I don’t know how there could be after what happened between us.”
Her evasiveness was maddening. I needed her to tell me everything.
“What if I told you that when we invited him on the show, he called you the love of his life—and said he was hoping for a second chance?”
The words tasted like poison in my mouth.
She paused, considering.
“Well, that’s really sweet. But I just don’t see how that could happen. And he knows why.”
She drew a deep, cleansing breath.
“I think our viewers would like to know why too.”
And Jupiter help me, so did I.
“I’m sure they would,” she said sweetly. “But a girl has to have some secrets.”
Was she taunting the audience? Me? What were these secrets?
Frustration slipped into my voice.
“Do you think this show can still help you find love with Jonas here? Do you still think I can?”
What was I saying? I sounded like a lovesick fool.
She didn’t hesitate. “I really hope so.”
“Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
She flashed me that brilliant smile of hers, and for a beat, I didn’t care that I was practically begging to be fired.
But just as quickly, the smile vanished. She straightened, businesslike, stone-faced.
“You promised you’d do your best to find me love. I’m going to hold you to that, Roman Archer.”
My name on her pouty pink lips never sounded so good.
“That would make my life a whole lot easier,” she added.
There was a double meaning there—I could feel it. Was she telling me it was best if we stopped making out every time we were alone? Probably. And while it would be for the best, the thought left me hollow.
“I’ll do everything I can,” I promised, realizing I had no idea how to make good on it. I sounded more like her friend than a television host. Might as well hand in my resignation now.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said—too intimately. I was so wrapped up in her that I’d lost my train of thought.
“So, do you have any other questions for me?” Demi’s voice pulled me out of the stupor she’d induced.
“Uh . . . yes. One more. Did you ever love Jonas?”
I knew she’d said we wouldn’t find the man she loved in her past, but what if Jonas was still in her present? Or what if she’d just been trying to steer me away from him?
She shook her head slowly, deliberately, almost seductively. “I tried to love him. But . . . I couldn’t.”
The words hit like a riddle. Was she saying she couldn’t because she’d met him after she’d locked her heart? Or because he was a douche? It had to be the latter. Right? She met him in college. No way she’d locked her heart before then.
I would have to ask her later.
“Well, I think he’d like to change your mind.”
I had to say it. It would be good for ratings.
“I hope—for his sake and mine—that’s not true.”
She stood abruptly, ripping off her mic with a flourish.
I hadn’t expected that.
Nor did I expect it when she flung open the door and Jonas was waiting outside, leaning against the wall like he was auditioning for Rebel Without a Cause.
“All right, love,” he said, voice smooth. “Knew I’d find you here. Fancy a stroll down by the river?”
Every camera swiveled toward him.
Demi hugged herself. “Jonas, please don’t make this harder than it already is. You know we can’t be together. Goodbye.” She choked out the words and bolted.
I had to stop myself from chasing after her.
Jonas pushed off the wall, casual as ever, with a smug grin plastered across his face.
“Love’s never easy, mate. Bit of a bloody mess, isn’t it?”
He spoke to me like we were old friends. We were anything but.
“It can be,” I gritted out.
“Well, I’m off to win my lady love.”
“I don’t think she wants that. You obviously hurt her. So maybe lay off,” I warned.
Jonas gave a low, amused laugh. “How do you know it wasn’t she who hurt me? See you later, mate.”
I stood there seething. He was lying—I knew it. But then the realization hit me like a punch to the face, the cameras were still rolling. And instead of the composed host, I’d just been caught acting like a jealous lover.
This season and Demi were going to lead me to an early grave.