Yeah, I wasn’t buying the lie either.
But, forgetting about my own personal drama, he was right about one thing. He was my friend. I did care about him and his future. And I couldn’t let him be snowed by some awful reptile like Abigail. “You really think the woman you want to marry is here?”
He reached over and put his fingers on my chin, turning me to him. “I really think the woman I want to marry is here.”
His eyes were so intense, so honest. The world stopped. Time ceased to exist. The oceans had dried up for all I knew. There was only me, Dante, and that current that tugged me to him, begging me to kiss him.
Which I could never do again.
Letting out a shaky breath, I tried to joke. “Every other man is terrified of getting married, and I know the one guy who thinks it’s the best thing ever.”
I turned my face away for my own sanity. His fingers lingered for a second and then dropped.
“Does that mean you’ll help me?”
“Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?”
He sounded adorably confused. “I don’t know.”
“It does. It means yes, I’ll help you. I’ll stay. For a little while. That’s what friends are for, right?”
I really, really hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.
“So we are friends.”
“Of course we’re friends.”
“With benefits?” he asked hopefully.
I raise a scornful eyebrow at him. “Um, no. No benefits whatsoever. Benefitless.”
Then he laughed, and I suppressed the desire to laugh with him. Because every time I did, another one of my defenses fell down.
He took the backing off of the pin. “May I?”
All of the oxygen left the room. I was playing with fire again, and I was definitely going to get burned. But stupidly I said, “’Kay.”
He tugged my jersey lightly and pushed the pin through the fabric. He reached inside to attach the backing, and as his fingers brushed against my heated skin, I hoped that when I passed out I wouldn’t hit the edge of the counter on my way down.
Then he adjusted the pin, making sure the heart pointed the right direction. My actual heart beat so fast I anticipated a visit to a hospital in my near future.
He didn’t help the situation when he put his hand on top of mine. I could just imagine the doctors’ conversation. “She ended up here how again?”
“The prince touched her, apparently.”
“Thank you, Limone.” His voice sounded husky and full of emotion as he interrupted my ride on the crazy train. “It means the world to me that you would stay and sacrifice to help me. Grazie.”
Serious, emotional Dante again. He was making all my feminine parts overload.
“And if I get to surround myself with beautiful women in the process, what’s the harm?”
I let out a sigh of relief. This I understood and could deal with. “There’s the Dante I know and lo . . .” I trailed off in a panic, realizing what I’d nearly said.
“Love?” he finished playfully.
“The Dante I know and tolerate for a paycheck,” I responded, and he put both of his hands over his heart, as if I had wounded him, and whirled backward. It made me laugh.
“If you stay, will you have time to do your work and plan your wedding?”
His voice was this strange mixture of casual and friendly, tinged with what sounded like sadness. But that couldn’t be right. I did like that he cared about what I wanted.
“You haven’t met my mother yet, but I am superfluous to her planning. She could pull off something twice as elaborate in half the amount of time. And I’ll have to make some kind of arrangement so I can have access to my phone to check on Nico and Kat’s press tour, but I’d set aside this time to be your liaison. I suppose it doesn’t really matter whether I’m behind the camera or in front of it.”
“Well, if you’re on television, it might help you get some new clients. Everyone in America will know who you are.”
Now that idea had merit, and it hadn’t occurred to me. He was right. This might open doors for me to build my business. We just couldn’t tell anyone about our little scheme or else everyone on the show and across Internet message boards would be talking about how I wasn’t there for “the right reasons.”
Taylor entered the room, still looking panicked. I was pretty sure this job was going shave ten years off of her life expectancy. “Dante, Chris needs to interview you in the interview room.”
“Of course,” he said. He nodded at me before leaving, and I smiled back.
The anger had been sustaining me, and now that it was gone, I felt drained and exhausted. I was ready to find my room and go to sleep. “Where am I staying?”