Page 89 of Sapphire Storm

He pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. “Comeon. It’ll be fun. Like a game. Pretend marriage, or whatever. Like dress-up.”

“You a big fan of dress-up?”

“Not really, no,” he said as he started them back toward theFrench doors. “According to Ethan, I have trouble wearing anything.”

When he handed the script back to her, the pain of lettinggo of Ethan’s loving words felt like a stab in the gut.

At 7:00 p.m., exactly a week after Roman hadbeen flown out of the country, Rachel’s number lit up the screen of Ethan’sphone as he was driving home from Sapphire Cove on Laguna Canyon Road. Hepulled into the parking lot of a lumber yard, knowing whatever response Romangave to his letter might seize control of his emotions.

In a whispered rush that made it sound like she was beingwatched, she gave him Roman’s response to his letter. And suddenly he wasresting his head against the top of the steering wheel.

“Can I talk to him?” he finally asked.

“She’s got a guard outside his room.”

“So what happens next?”

“We do the interview tomorrow, it airs the day after that,then I’m on a plane back to New York to close out my run.”

“And Roman?”

“He stays here until the wedding. With her. They’re flyinghome twenty-four hours before and then going to the Castle. And then to thehotel, obviously, when it’s time.”

“So no rehearsal dinner?” he asked.

“The cover story’s going to be that with all of the scandalswirling, the other events are going to be private and for the family. We’redoing the rehearsal on the beach by the Castle with a shit ton of security. Thepapswill get tipped off so they can be stationed nearby. She’ll claimwe had a private dinner in the house after, but that’s doubtful since everyonewants to kill her. The wedding will be the big show, just like she wanted.”

“Tell him that I’ll have a special dessert waiting for himwhen he gets to the hotel,” Ethan said. “Tell himI’llbe waiting forhim.”

“I will, but listen, I gotta go.”

When they hung up, it took him several minutes before he feltcapable of driving the rest of the way home.

After hours of bickering, all of which Romancould overhear from his makeup chair in the adjacent room, the camera crew andMelanie—under Diana’s instructions—settled on a location for the first interview—aspot close to the pool with plenty of lavender-filled planters and thevine-shrouded, tiled-roof guest house in the background.

When he first took a seat next to Rachel, he was relieved tofind the garden wasn’t as hot as he’d feared. But after only a minute or twointo the interviewer’s invasive questions, he was sporting a layer of sweatunder the drab, boring outfit they’d chosen for him—an eggplant-colored dressshirt and dark slacks.

He recognized the reporter who’d been sent to cover them, buthe wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her report on a story that didn’t involve murder.Maybe that was why her tone was more serious than he expected. Afterinterrogating Rachel on the pain and misery she must have suffered due toScott’s betrayal as if they were discussing a missing child, she resorted toarch skepticism over how quickly the romance between Roman and Rachel hadblossomed. He figured she was on the hunt for any tidbit suggesting Rachelmight have strayed as well. But Rachel played her part perfectly, alwayscircling back to the talking points they’d both rehearsed.

Diana’s silhouette was visible just behind the camera, armscrossed, tense as a coiled snake. But the glare of the hot lights concealed herexpression, which Roman found a relief.

“All right,” the reporter finally said, “it can’t be easystarting a romance in the midst of all this…intrigue. So tell me,what’s the happiest memory you two have shared together?”

Roman’s heart raced with a new feeling, something other thannervousness. Something that took him back to Ethan’s warm embrace in that SanDiego hotel room as the scent of oncoming rain blew in through the open deckdoor.

He spoke before he could tell himself to stop.

“I think it was when we touched the sky.”

The reporter’s eyes met his. “I’m sorry,the sky?”she asked, smiling.

He shook his head. “I’m a certified paraglider pilot. It’ssomething that’s always made me really happy in my life. Something I’ve alwayswanted to share with the people that I really care about.” He looked right atthe camera lens. “The people I love.”

Slowly, Diana lowered her arms to her sides as she took a steptoward the camera, her face still lost to glare. But their interviewer lookedcharmed. He continued. “It seems like love, true love, is about sharing allyour life and not one part of it. I mean, there’s, like, wanting to share yourbody. Then there’s wanting to share where you live. And then there’s wanting toshare your joy. That’s what I did at the glider port in La Jolla a little whileago. That’s probably my happiest memory ever. Teaching someone how to touch thesky.”

Rachel reached across the distance between them, gripped hishand, and brought it to her knee. He couldn’t tell if she was comforting him orwarning him.

Then suddenly the interview was over.

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