Page 24 of You're The One
She doesn’t answer right away, and for a second, I wonder if she’ll actually say no. With the cameras rolling—one of them circling to catch every angle—there won’t be a thing I can do to stop her. And admittedly, I don’t like the idea of her leaving.I need her help.
Her eyes twitch with the effort not to roll. “I’d love nothing more,” she says, way too sweetly.
“Thank you.” I hold out the flower, and she takes it—but I don’t let go. I wrap my hand around hers.
“Do you know what kind of flower it is?” I taunt.
My eyes drop to the stem we’re gripping a little too tightly. I asked the producers to find one as soon as I knew I was keeping her.
She glances down. “You couldn’t just give me a normal red rose like everyone else?”
“This one’s better. It’s a Hellebore. Blooms in winter, when most things don’t. Figured that suited you.”
Her brows pull together. But just as quickly, she shakes it off and straightens her spine.
“Thanks.” One word, sharp as ice.
She tries to pull back, but I keep my hand around hers.
“So, we’re in agreement?” I ask, softer, though I know the mic will still pick it up.
She lifts her brows, clearly unimpressed that I’m putting her on the spot. But after a beat, she nods.
“Say it,” I murmur.
“Deal,” she practically spits, yanking the flower—and her hand—from my grip.
I open my arms, and she steps into them, reluctantly, though there’s a little less resistance than last time. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.
Who knew a hug could feel this satisfying? Like scoring on Hellebuyck—hard-earned, and all the more rewarding.
Before she pulls away, I lean in.
“Oh, and wash your hands,” I murmur, tipping my chin toward the bloom. “It’s poisonous.”
Her eyes widen slightly before she drops it and steps on it without missing a beat. “Oops.”
Emile mutters a curse from across the room, and Bodhi just shakes his head.
I tip mine back and laugh.
The rest of the ceremony goes off without a hitch. I send home six women—the one I kissed included—which turns out to be easier than I expected.
Honestly, the hard part was picking eighteen I’m actually interested in. A few sparked genuine curiosity, but that instant, intangiblethingI was hoping for? Still missing.
I’m hopeful now, though, that I’ll find it. With my little matchmaker’s help.
Bodhi appears at my side. “Ready to see your temporary home?”
It’s nearly midnight, and after meeting that many women in one night, I feel like I’m about to turn into a pumpkin. I’m an extrovert, but even I have my limits.
I say goodnight to the group, everyone except Mia, who practically sprints out of view the second a producer yells “cut.”
Figures.
I follow Bodhi out of the mansion and into the back of a black SUV.
“Here.” He hands me a spiral-bound notebook. “I made this for you.”
