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“It’s fine,” I say because although the angry man-god is hot and I adore the idea of Anthony squealing for mercy, I don’t really want Shane to give my asshole ex the time of day. I wave my hand. “I turned him down by saying I was already engaged.”
Shane’s shoulders slowly relax, his jaw loosening. “Good,” he says. “Because that’s— I can’t even— If he tries anything like that again, you tell me, okay?”
Well, well, well, what do we have here? It’s not like he has to play a role for Nia’s sake; she knows what’s going on. But this is definitely Shane the Protector. He reminds me of his counterpart in Crown of Spires, all swagger and alpha posturing. And I madly, deeply love it.
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
“And staging a proposal—let me think about that,” he says to Nia. “That’s a great idea.”
When Shane’s gone, my sister dissolves into squeeing. “Omigod, omigod, omigod. He’s, like, so larger than life and good looking and fierce. And I don’t even want to fuck him. I just want to stare at him.” She eyes me. “What? Why are you so quiet? You do. You want to?—”
“Hush! Nia!”
She raises an eyebrow. “No one would blame you! That I’ll break his face for you thing was hot. And duh, obviously, you need to try out spire sex with the lord of the skies.”
“I haven’t even watched that scene yet!”
Now it’s both eyebrows, and she’s having trouble hiding her smile. “But you did watch the first movie.” It’s not really a question, not with that smirk.
“It seemed like important research.”
“Has Shane watched Bridge?” she asks.
“Not relevant!”
“So, so relevant. Next time you see him, you have to ask him if he’s jerked off to Oriana getting boned in the engine room.”
“There is absolutely no way I’m going to ask?—”
“Kidding, Ivy, kidding.”
I roll my eyes and slump against the doorframe. I have zero desire to admit it, but the fact that Shane watched some of my show, might even have watched the infamous engine-room scene, causes my skin to glow with heat. In general, I never want anyone to confuse me with Oriana, but somehow this is different. Maybe because Shane is an actor, too, and knows the difference between me in real life and me on-screen.
He’d get to see you naked. Maybe pause the scene and rewatch. Reach for his belt buckle and the zipper under it.
What’s behind that zipper?
“Ivy?”
“Sorry,” I say. “Was thinking about?—”
“Sex hundreds of feet off the ground? While tied to a spire?”
“Shut. It. Shane and I are not having sex—on a spire or anywhere. His motives for doing this whole fake marriage are even purer than mine. And everyone wins if we pull this off.”
“Which does not preclude your having sex with him,” she points out.
“No, but having sex with him would make this so, so much messier. Right now it’s an acting job. A business contract. Sex would add the mother of all swerve to the mix.”
Her smile drops away. “Okay. I can see that. So you’re really doing this, huh?”
“Seems like it.”
She crosses her arms. “You better get one hell of a proposal on video. If you’re going to get rid of losers, users, and trolls—Anthony foremost among them—you need the lord of the skies to stake his claim and show the world how it’s done.”
I raise my eyebrows. “No pressure on him.”
“I mean, you’re getting married to save his family’s business. The least he can do is propose like a boss.”
