Page 92 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

I nod, already opening the message. The fifteenth is almost a month away. He either has something special planned, or I’m about to get the bad news he’s going out of town for work or something.

Justine: yeah. Why?

Ronan: they want us on the Morning Show. Ratings have finally improved beyond 2012 levels and it’s all thanks to you. Let me take you out tonight to celebrate

I grin up at Courtney. “Oh my god! They want to interview us on the Morning Show! Me! Well him, but me, too.”

“This is so exciting!”

I frown as I text Ronan back.Justine: can’t tonight. But ur welcome to come hang out with me and Courts

Nothing for a long moment. Then, when his next message comes through, I’m not surprised. I am disappointed, though.

Ronan: another time. Swing around mine if you feel like it after xx

I sigh. He’s still dodging. I wonder when he’ll stop trying to hide from my friends.

THIRTY EIGHT

Justine

I stare at the face of the woman in the brightly lit mirror in front of me. She looks far more like the elegant person they made me into for the filming of Married for a Day than the real me. The more I see footage and pictures from the show and the promo around, the more I feel a distance between me and her.

Behind me, the young man doing my hair gives it one more sweep with the rounded brush, curling my bangs perfectly so they bounce into perfect angles framing my eyes. The light rouge over my cheeks is subtle compared with my normal beet red color. My lashes are long and fake.

The woman doing my makeup has the most dramatic eyeliner I’ve ever seen. The long wings curl out from her eyes making them look like cat’s eyes. She looks down her long nose at me as she assesses the two lipsticks she’s holding.

“Is Tabitha good to work with?” Tabitha Redman is the host of the Morning Show. Before she came to work for Bullseye Media, the werewolf used to run a blog called Tabitha Spills the Tea. She’s famous all over the country for her warm demeanor and her love for gossip. I hope she’s as good at making me feel relaxed as she seems to be with other guests.

The woman sniffs. “Dunno. I only do the guests.”

“Oh.” I tuck my hands between my thighs to hide the way they’re shaking. I open my mouth to ask another question, but she cuts me off.

“Keep still.” She applies the lipstick, then turns and sets it down on the table beside her. Without another word, she walks away.

I wish Ronan was back here with me. He’s in another dressing room getting done whatever it is they do to minotaurs to get them ready for television. I wish he’d sit beside me and squeeze my thigh, or tell me to stop blushing. Just something to make me smile instead of want to throw up.

I don’t know why this is so different to being filmed for the show. Maybe because I was so immersed in the fake marriage. Or maybe because we were on location.

The studio feels so sterile. On set, everything is two dimensional and plastic. You have to look out beyond the cameras to the audience sitting there watching. Judging.

What if I stuff this up?

Ronan assures me I won’t. His team gave me a thorough briefing. I’ve been given lines to say about my experience on the show. I even helped his PR guy write them so they’d sound more natural. I just know in the heat of the moment, I’ll forget everything and say whatever stupid thing comes into my head in my panic.

“Starting in ten!” The middle-aged centaur at the door holds up ten fingers to reinforce his statement. “Let’s get cracking.”

I stand on wobbly legs and make my way out to the set.

The host, Tabitha Redman, is sitting on her iconic leather armchair, heels off and bare feet tucked up under her as she chats with Ronan.

When she spots me, she gives me a warm smile and beckons me over. “Hi, Justine! We were just talking about you. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you both on the program. You know I’m a huge fan of Married for a Day and this is the best season yet!”

I return her smile, already feeling better. “Me, too. I’m so glad you think so.”

I concentrate on walking carefully up the three steps rather than tripping. Then I see Ronan and I almost trip anyway. He’s sitting there in his smart casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the front unbuttoned to reveal a hint of his furry chest.

I can’t believe he’s mine—well, sort of. I mean we’re both our own people. No one can belong to someone else, can they? The knowledge he’s not seeing anyone else still makes me all warm inside. For the moment, it’s enough to distract me from the rows and rows of people sitting in the audience. Eeek! I didn’t even know they could fit so many people inside a television studio. There were so many more on the street outside, though. They had to blockade off the square outside the building for the crowd.

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