Paint Me Saved ✓ Book 1

7. Welcome to the downfall

Zemira

The news of our impending merger with Brenton Media Inc. was highly regulated. Everything that went to the press ran through a million checks. Staff were employed whose sole job was to ensure people only heard what we wanted them to.

Thanks to Haley, we secured the prestigious James Gallagher interview, with our hotel as the venue. It was estimated to be viewed by millions. Haley's role stretched, from selecting the penthouse for the view of the vast, serene ocean to approving every single flower, portrait or even a toothpick.

Since confirmation of the live interview date, Antonio and I had spent hours rehearsing our speeches and coordinating our answers. Simple questions about likes and dislikes could reveal a couple's compatibility. Even a sweat bead out of place could unravel everything.

Ours had to be a waltz, a synchronized effort to show our compatible pairing.

Even with the chilled breeze circulating in the suite I sat in, thorns of nerves pricked my throat. My eyelids were heavy from the lack of sleep, and my neck couldn't bear the weight of my head.

When Antonio walked inside, I looked for signs of nerves or nausea in him.

His confident smile flashed brighter than fluorescent bulbs. He carried two bags, a big gray one with a fancy clothing label and another in a shade of pink.

"Only very confident men like that color in their daily wear," I said, eying the smaller bag. He chuckled, setting them on a nearby table.

"Then I'm not confident, Zem." He fished out the contents. "It's for you."

Antonio held a small bottle of Parisian perfume. As he opened the cap, wafts of tangerine and shea butter wafted through the room.

"Shall I?" He waited while my gaze shifted from the pale purple colored bottle to him.

My head bobbed, my throat too. He leaned lower to meet my hooded eyes. The mist evaporated, spritzed over my shoulder blade.

Though my mouth watered, I wasn't sure if it was the scent or something else.

"Antoni-"

"Shush." He ran a finger over my lips, drawing his face closer.

Control left my body as my eyelids fluttered shut. The room was cold, but our proximity warmed me. Antonio held the back of my neck, commanding me to look up.

I was pressed between the wall and him, my brain cells fusing, mushed into a useless mass.

"Zem, you don't know how many times..." His forehead touched mine, and warm breath hit my lower lip, a minty assault.

"How many times what?"

His reply was an airy hiss merged with a sigh. Antonio walked to the opposite side of the room. With a hand resting on the table for stability, he stood still with his back facing me.

I felt a tug at my heart, one I always had whenever realization hit. Antonio was a nice guy. But I had to hold my heart's reigns. I didn't want to ruin what we had. Not before the engagement, when it would all be a done deal.

"Tell me," I said, letting him know it was safe to surrender.

His words never came. Instead, he moved me back to the wall, caging me with his arms.

"I can't tell you what I want..." His whisper trailed goosebumps. "It's not that simple..."

"Whatever it is, I want to know."

The eyes narrowed. Antonio pulled me into his arms and crashed with me on the bed.

Never before had we navigated into this territory. Like all things unknown, there was a certain thrill and danger in this play.