NINE

Justine

We both stand one on either side of the generously sized bed in silence. Huge stacks of pillows are piled on each side and the immaculate white comforter is strewn with rose petals. It would be romantic under different circumstances.

Eventually, Ronan's tail flicks and he snorts. "I'll just go tell them we're not doing this. This is ridiculous."

"You can't!"

He turns toward the bedroom door, but I dart in front of him. "This is the part of the show that gets the best ratings! We have to do it."

He scrubs a hand over his face and down his long nose. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"It's not so bad, is it? At least the room is nice."

He gestures to the three cameras fixed in different corners of the room. "There are camera's everywhere. I won't be able to take a shit without it being on national television."

I can't help laughing. It's a bad idea because it only makes his scowl deepen. "OK, but there are no camera crew. Besides, there aren't any cameras in the bathroom, surely."

"You sure about that?"

I open my mouth to reply I am sure, but actually the more I think about it, the more I'm doubting myself. I run back over all the seasons of Married for a Day I've watched, trying to remember if there were bathroom scenes.

Pressing my lips together, I walk around the bed and peek into the bathroom. Sure enough, there's a camera in there, too. It faces the shower and sink, not the toilet, but still.

Ronan's deep voice behind me makes me jump. "See?"

The sound rumbles down my spine and a shiver spreads across my body. I clear my throat. "OK, but they're not filming us taking a—using it. It's just in case we have an interesting conversation in here." The bathroom suddenly feels very small with Ronan's bulky body crowding behind me in the doorway.

He snorts. "Sure. Conversation. That's what they're hoping for."

I'm glad he's behind me, so he can't see the blush creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks. Why, oh why did my mom have to pick a redhead for her first husband? "People don't really do that, though," I whisper, more to myself than to him. "It could be dangerous."

I turn to find him staring at me and suddenly wish I had somewhere to hide.

"What?"

Instead of answering me, he just turns away.

I'm left wondering if perhaps the kind of scenes I love to read about might be more real than my first and only boyfriend, Cameron, ever led me to believe.

"Well, who's taking the bed?" Ronan's returned to the foot of the bed.

I look around the room. There's a single sofa chair in the corner, but it has wings I can tell instantly aren't made for a minotaur with wide horns like Ronan. He'd never be able to sit in it, let alone sleep.

Other than that, there's the hardwood floor.

I sigh. "You can have the bed."

I think he's going to be a gentleman and protest. Or say thank you, at least.

Instead he huffs a long puff of breath out his nostrils and flops onto the bed. "Fine."

I stare for a long moment. It's like he was just expecting me to offer him the bed, even though I'm female. I mean he's my boss, for heaven's sake! Of course, he expects me to take the chair.

I fling myself into the chair and tuck up my feet, hugging my knees into my chest.

It's not that being female should have anything to do with it, I suppose. I mean, it's a bit of an outdated concept. Only, it's still something I'd kind of like from a guy I was actually going to marry.

Lucky I'm not really married to Ronan.

The thought circles round and round in my mind over the next forty minutes of silence.

Eventually, Ronan gets up and goes into the bathroom. I hear the water running and desperately try not picturing him naked and lathered in soap. What is wrong with me when he's being such a grump that I'd even think about that?

I try to read my book, but even though things are steaming up between Rosaline and the Duke of Carlisle, I can't concentrate. Do minotaurs have pubes? I spend far too long imagining the way his taut belly descends below his navel to the point where his cock juts out from his body. Only I can't quite make myself picture his cock. Not really.

In my mind's eye, I'm really picturing Cameron's, the only cock I ever got... up close and personal with. And that's not right. It's also a bit of a disappointing image if I'm honest. I never said anything to Cameron, of course, but I'm not sure his ever really did much for me.

I know for a fact minotaurs are much more well endowed.

I swallow thickly when the bathroom door opens and he emerges wearing only a pair of sweat pants.

I turn my head away so I don't give into temptation and stare at his broad chest and huge pecs. God, they're so huge he practically has cleavage.

OK, definitely staring.

"The bathroom's all yours."

With a squeak, I dart inside and shut the door. Then I take the world's shortest shower, so I'm not tempted to rub my soapy hands over my breasts and belly or down between my thighs where I'm suddenly throbbing.

When I go back into the bedroom, he's lying on the bed again. "They could at least let us have our phones. This is ridiculous. I don't see what having or not having our phones has to do with anything."

I want to tell him we're supposed to be talking, but I'm tired of making cheerful conversation. I talked the whole way through lunch. I told him all about my mom and my stepfather and confided things to him I've only ever told close friends. I don't know what made me do it. I guess I thought maybe he'd loosen up a bit and be a bit less grumpy.

But he's hardly said two words that weren't written on the cards.

He rolls over with a huff and I scurry over to my chair, pulling a thin blanket off the bed to cover myself. My pajama shorts suddenly feel far too short and I spend a few minutes making sure the blanket really does cover all of me.

Ronan says nothing.

Well, if he wants to be quiet, I can be quiet.

I jump when his deep rumbly voice comes from the bed. "Justine?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stop tapping your foot, please. I'm trying to sleep."

God, is he always this grouchy or does he save it especially for me? I try to keep still and not fidget. Almost impossible when this chair is so uncomfortable and I know there's no way in hell I'll get much sleep tonight.

Eventually, I realize Ronan's actually fallen asleep. I shift in the chair, already getting a crick in the neck.

It's going to be a long night.

I'm finally dozing off when a bellow from the bed makes me sit bolt upright. "What is it?"

Ronan is thrashing around, clutching at the bedding. He lets out another loud groan.

"Mr. Kernos! Ronan, what is it?" Did he eat something bad at dinner?

He lets out a shout and sits up clutching at his chest. His eyes are wide, but he's not looking at me.

I rush to the bed. "What's wrong? Should I get someone?"

He doesn't look at me. He's staring straight at the opposite wall. "Help!"

"I'm right here. I'll call a—" Belatedly, I realize we don't have our phones. But the crew is watching, right?

I don't know if anyone is watching live. They're filming, but the show doesn't go to air for a month. They're probably recording so they can edit out all the juicy bits later.

I reach out to touch his arm. "Ronan."

"They've called the ambulance, but he's not going to make it." He groans again and sinks back down onto the bed. "I'm not going to make it. My heart."

I frown. "Who called the ambulance? Did the crew come in here? While I was asleep?"

"Crew?" He sounds confused. "What are you talking about? Mom called. Just now. You watched her."

OK, this is weird. Is it possible this is all some bad dream. I shake him. "Ronan. Are you even awake? Does it still hurt?"

"No! No, no, no." He squeezes his eyes shut.

Leaning forward, I touch his face. "Ronan?"

He doesn't answer. I'm becoming more sure this is a nightmare, but—

I start to pull my hand away and he cries out again. "No! Come back. Touch me. Please."

I hesitate. This sounds horrible. Whatever is going on in his head, it's terrible to watch.

I pat his arm awkwardly.

"Stay," he says, sounding exhausted and pleading.

I crawl a little way onto the bed and pet his arm. He closes his eyes and his breathing slows further. Tentatively, I stroke across his broad chest and my fingertips graze the swell of his pecs.

Oh, my god, his body is so firm, it's like stone. So firm and softly furry. I'm really badly tempted to let my fingers stray.

I don't though. I return to petting his soft arm. The fur on his body is short and smooth if I brush my fingers downward.

Ronan wraps his arm all the way around my legs like he's hugging a pillow or a teddy bear, then he gives a loud sigh, and settles into peaceful sleep.

Welp, I guess this is where I'm sleeping.