Page 24 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

He didn’t even know what he was doing.

I turn my face away to cover my blush. “Right. No touching. Got it.”

At that moment, the producer cuts into our conversation. “Get changed into your swimsuits and we’ll head down to the spa. I’ll have hair and makeup do a touch up before we shoot and then we’re good to go.”

My stomach flutters as if a hundred butterflies are trying to break free.

I didn’t really think about the fact I’d have to get into a swimsuit in front of Ronan.

Oh, God. It’s not even my swimsuit. It’s whatever hair and makeup packed for Natasha, the fitness instructor with completely flat, toned abs.

I really, really hope it’s not a bikini.

It’s a bikini.

The kind woman who fixed the hem of my wedding dress holds up two different options for me to choose from. Both of them are two piece. Both of them are hardly even there.

I cringe.

“There isn’t anything a bit... bigger?” I know the answer before I even ask.

The kind woman scoffs. “No. Of course not, dear. You’ll look amazing. Don’t worry. Mr. Kernos won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

I cover my hands with my face. “That’s kinda what I’m afraid of.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Look at you.” I avoid looking at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror in front of us.

Keeping my eyes closed I point in her general direction. “That one.”

“Good choice.”

I open my eyes to find I’ve pointed at the blue floral bikini. She holds it out to me and I take the hanger with a shaking hand.

It’s only when I am struggling to untangle them and put them on in the bathroom that I discover the pants are so high cut they slip up into my ass crack and cover less than half of my ass cheeks. I tug uselessly at them, to pull them over more of my butt, but then my belly hangs over the waistband and that’s worse.

I guess Ronan is copping an eyeful of my ass whether he likes it or not.

Somehow, I already know that he won’t.

Nothing for it.

Sure enough, the look on his face when I walk into the spa is icy. His nostrils flare and he looks across at the producer and the camerawoman on the other side of the room. “Is this really necessary?”

He’s sitting on a bench at the side of the decadent room. A huge, deep tub fills the middle of the space. The tiles are large sandstone squares. There are even real potted plants in the corners of the room and a tray of food and drink by the pool.

The spa itself is big enough to fit at least six people! That’s probably a good thing if Ronan is getting in. He’s large enough for at least two or three.

“Oh, yes,” Amy cheerfully assures him. “This is the most interactive part of the show so far. I guarantee this next bit is genius.”

I hurry across to the edge of the water and slide in before anyone can look twice at me in the awful swimsuit.

Ronan sighs, standing to remove the robe he’s been wearing up until now. I can’t help gawking at the beautiful ripple of his muscled chest as he disrobes and discards it.

I know, I know. I saw him without a shirt on last night. Only, I’m still not over it. I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. If I thought I could stand the cringe of watching myself on TV, I’d be watching this show on repeat for years to come.

As it is, I’m hoping it somehow gets lost in the Bullseye Media archive.

Ronan strides over to the tub and steps down into the water. The level immediately rises to cover my chest and I’m immensely grateful for his size.

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