Page 15 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

She looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and her lips painted the perfect shade of red to compliment her hair. The perfect shade to draw my eyes and my attention. You know what they say about red to a bull...

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Is that all I can say back? There’s nothing in my head except the swoosh, swoosh of blood rushing in my ears.

She turns. “Did we get it? Should I do it again?”

My jaw almost hits the sand again. Did I just buy into my own Reality TV program?

Fuck.

“No, no. You’re all good.” The camerawoman gives Justine the thumbs up. “Just act natural.”

“OK.” Amy, the producer claps her hands. “Let's get the introductions and vows then. Just make sure you get plenty of footage of their faces from different angles and we can edit later.”

“Sure.” This is only an act. Playing a part. No different to work, really. Then Justine takes another step toward me, trips on the long hem of the dress and tumbles into my chest.

I catch her on instinct, my hands closing around her upper arms to hold her steady. Her flushed face, pink cheeked look scrambles my brain, just when I’ve managed to compose myself.

“Television gold,” one of the crew whispers from the background.

All I can do is try to stop anyone from seeing how my nostrils flare as I breathe in deep to get more of her lavender and honey scent.

“Um, I’m Justine. I’m your bride for the day.” She smiles at me as if she really believes we’re going to live happily ever after.

“It’s nice to meet you, Justine. I’m sure you know who I am.” Mentally, I berate myself for the way that sounds like I’m the most arrogant bastard imaginable. “Please call me Ronan.” God, I wish that didn’t sound so fake. I’ve never been a great actor. Justine on the other hand is killing it.

“You, too.” The breathless way she says it. The flush in her cheeks. This is the side of her that makes me wonder how much more there is beneath the surface. The side she showed me when she originally came up with this idea. Animated. Excited.

God, it’s doing something to my chest I didn’t know was possible.

To my left, Cedric Du Montfort, a gargoyle in a neat suit, folds his wings and steps under the arch, clearing his throat. I’ve always thought the host of Married for a Day was annoying on camera. That’s nothing to how he is in person.

“Dearly beloved,” he begins dramatically, waving his hands around in the long sleeves he’s wearing to mimic a priest.

I just about stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“We are gathered here in the sight of upwards of seven million viewers to join this minotaur and this woman in reality TV matrimony!”

He pauses with a grin, presumably to allow the crew time to laugh at his terrible joke.

“Now, Ronan and Justine. You’ve come here to see what it would be like to really be married, and we take our little experiment very seriously. So I need you both to commit to giving this your all.”

I grunt. Justine is nodding enthusiastically.

“Do you, Justine, promise to take this minotaur as your husband for a day, to have and to hold—” The damn gargoyle winks at the camera.

I realize I’m still holding Justine and step back. Everything grinds to a halt.

“Oh, no no, Ronan. That looked so good. Put your hands in his, Justine. That’s right. Let’s start over again.” The producer makes a shooing gesture with her hands until I finally submit and move back toward Justine and she places her hands in mine.

A woman with a comb steps in, fluffs Justine’s hair, and wipes an invisible spot from her cheek.

We’re forced to endure the same godawful jokes seven more times until they decide they’ve got the footage they need.

“Do you, Ronan, promise to take this woman as your wife for a day, to have and to hold?”

“I do.”

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