by Jen Greyson
I fidgeted and dropped my hands to my lap. At some point Mandy was going to figure out where I’d come from and why I was participating. I didn’t want to discuss my situation with any of them, let alone her. They’d at least take my answers at face value... Mandy wouldn’t be satisfied until I spilled the whole truth, I just had a feeling.
Mateo’s voice entered before he did.
Discussions died as he and Kat came in, Kat’s breast pressed against his arm where she’d entwined herself around the crook of his elbow. By the dopey look on his face, the view down her shirt was fabulous. I narrowed my eyes and Mandy’s vibe tilted precariously. My fingers curled around the fork’s hilt again.
Mateo pulled out Kat’s chair and sat beside her and at the head of the table—Right next to me. I wasn’t ready to talk to him, look at him, or smell him. I leaned against the other arm. Mateo rested his elbows on the edge of the table and smiled at each of the girls. “A thorn among roses.”
Gag. Really? My blood pressure spiked. This meal could not end soon enough. The waiters served the first course, a beautiful asparagus and arugula salad.
“Would you like some wine?” A young waiter with a Persian accent asked softly.
I looked up from and recognized the same one I’d snapped at earlier. He smiled and held a wine bottle out for my review. I quietly inspected the label, not really wanting anyone to see that I knew anything about wine other than liking it. If I were trying to impress anyone, I’d have asked for the ’03 instead. I rubbed my index finger gently across the winery name and shrugged. “Sure.”
He bent over and spoke quietly, “This is nearly as good as their early years.”
I flinched and lifted an eyebrow. His smile held no trace of creepiness, so I took another glance at the label. This vineyard hadn’t had a bad year for the last decade, so it wasn’t really a gamble. I nodded and he filled my glass. Legs of alcohol dripped down the glass and I took a sip. The bouquet of peaches and rose hips exploded in my mouth, picking up the tart citrus of the dressing. I closed my eyes. Forks tinkled against plates and my animosity evaporated like the hint of oak as I swallowed.
I wanted to watch how the girls interacted with Mateo, but I wanted to do it without my own emotion clouding my impressions. I drew a deep breath.
Taking another sip, I set my glass beside my plate and forked a giant asparagus spear. Beside me, Kemmerie regaled Mateo with a delightful tale about her last charity bash. I didn’t think Kemmerie had a single negative bone in her body. Sure, she wasn’t exactly conquering the world with her mental acuity, but that many volunteer hours were tough to knock. I nibbled on the end of the spear and scanned the table.
Everyone but Kat listened politely to Kemmerie’s story. Kat flirted with the waiter and made impatient huffing noises. Mandy asked probing questions when Kemmerie dragged on in the story or got hung up on the color scheme, keeping the story light and lively. Rinnae finished her salad and a waiter hurried it away. She leaned forward in the vacant spot. “That’s really great, Kemmerie. How often do you do functions like that?”
“Oh, it varies. Sometimes two a month, sometimes only one.”
Mandy declined a refill of wine. “I suppose it depends a lot on the charity.”
“That’s right.”
“We’ve been thinking of putting something like that on at the shelter, but I don’t know where to begin. I always feel like I have a thousand other things to do.”
“I’d love to help you plan one. Maybe we can do a little while we’re here.”
Mateo cleared his throat and chuckled. “And I was hoping you’d be fighting over spending time with me.”
I clamped my jaw. Could he be any more of a cliché? This act of his was sixty-year-old bowling alley sleaze ball. Was he doing this for the cameras? It was an odd choice and not the guy I’d met at the auction or last night at the pier. Not that I wanted to hang with that guy any more than this one, but it was still strange.
The waiters cleared the salad plates and set down plates of orange roughy bedded on wild rice and baby red potatoes. I leaned forward and dipped my fork in the amber sauce. Orange and mint swirled together on my tongue and I forced myself not to dive into the plate. I refolded my napkin and scooted my chair closer.
“So Sangria,” Mateo stretched his hand toward mine. “Do you have any hobbies? Anything you like to collect?”
I glared at him and took a huge bite of fish. Chewing, I pointed at my mouth and shrugged.
“I collect balls,” Sarina offered. Everyone laughed, including me. “No. Volleyballs, you dirty-minded sluts. From my wins. I started after my first game, thinking I’d keep one or two, but then I seemed to have this thing for winning.” She shrugged and forked the fish. “It’s fairly ridiculous now. How about you guys?”
I wasn’t sure if Rinnae’s volley had been on purpose or to call attention onto herself, but I was grateful. It had to be only a matter of time before the girls realized I wasn’t here as the law intern, and that the interior design student, Talia, wasn’t coming back. The sooner I could escape this display, the better. And Mateo better get rid of any more bright ideas like dragging me into a conversation—especially if he meant to show the girls I had anything in common with him.
Kemmerie collected vintage teapots. Cassidy’s collection included crystals and bongs, which inspired a complete side-conversation about legalized pot and which states were next to push it through.
Even under any other circumstances, I still would have been an outsider. I’d never done drugs, never smoked, and was pretty low-key as far as drinking went. A good glass of wine was something I enjoyed, but I didn’t drink to get wasted—I drank wine like I drank coffee—because it tasted good and I enjoyed the way a couple made me feel. Pot—legalize or otherwise—would have no bearing on my life, so I didn’t have a lot to interject into the conversation.
A cloud shifted overhead, mottling the light. A beam reflected off one of the tables and made Cassidy’s necklace sparkle. I coughed and held my napkin to my lips while I swallowed. Nothing more awesome than spewing food over the table on national television.
I’d forgotten about the hidden mics in the necklaces. Now I was extra glad for my sheltered, prudish life. The girls probably wouldn’t get charged with anything, but who knew these days. I still had my square non-matching necklace on and wasn’t sure how I was going to play that off without drawing a whole lot of attention to theirs. I could take mine off... I blinked and focused my attention back on the others.
Swirling my last bite around in the glaze, I sipped my wine. It had been dad’s idea to introduce me to the world of sommeliers and a love of wine. He’d built a small wine cellar beneath our stairs in the basement, complete with Plexiglas walls and accented lighting. His passion had made gift-giving pretty easy, though the first few bottles I’d bought him were total duds. When I turned eighteen he’d opened a bottle from the year I was born and showed me how to let it breathe, and how to recognize the bouquet and flavors. I hadn’t been in his wine cellar since he died.
The fish turned sour in my stomach and my appetite fled. I angled my silverware on my plate and my plate disappeared, along with my remaining silverware. I ducked my head and fiddled with my napkin. If this pot conversation went on for much longer, I was going to excuse myself. Kat and Mateo were lost in their own conversation about drugs and Kat asked if he’d ever used Extasy.
I screeched my chair back. There were some things I didn’t need to know.
Every head swiveled and conversations died mid-sentence.
“Sorry. I’m not feeling well.” I dropped my napkin in the chair. “Excuse me.”
Fleeing up the back set of stairs, I came up short, dead-ending into a warm, walnut-paneled library. Bookshelves stuffed to overflowing lined the seats beneath wide windows and the back wall, continuing over the top of the stairwell. The girls’ chatter chased me up the stairs and I tried to figure out how the door worked. I finally found a button beneath a hidden p
anel and punched it hard.
Thick glass slid closed, cutting off the giggling and Mateo’s voice. I sighed and sank into a leather chair. Rubbing my eyes, I counted the number of remaining meals I’d have to endure. Six weeks, three meals a day... I tipped my face to the ceiling. “Oh good, only one hundred twenty-five left.”
I wasn’t going to be able to run every time Mateo tried to engage me. With any luck, I’d get better at seating arrangements. Standing, I walked to the window. Just as in the dining area, this section of the boat promised an unimpeded view. I pressed my forehead against the glass. I’d been an idiot to let McComb bribe me into doing this. I could have found another job. Someone would have hired me. Why didn’t I ever believe in myself? Dad wouldn’t be very proud at how I’d basically laid down and let the old codger walk over me.
Tears blurred the view. Lifting a finger to the glass, I traced a heart. Dad hadn’t asked a lot of me in those final days, just that I’d find happiness. Problem was, I didn’t know where to look. He’d taken my happiness with him that day he said his final goodbye. Working on his cars and going to auctions made me feel close to him, but I’d only ever wanted to become a lawyer because he said it made him proud.
Pretty sure I’d deviated drastically.
Seriously, who gets forced onto a reality show? Bad enough that I’d done it for a job, but these girls—some of whom I thought I could like—had done it for love. They were smart, pretty, accomplished girls, they shouldn’t have to... I sighed. Of all the things I could give advice on, romance was not one. Being an actual contestant on something like this was pretty much the only way I was ever going to be a contender for love. I’d given up dating when dad got sick, and—listening to my roommate and friends—I wasn’t missing much.
The door whooshed open and I turned.
Mateo’s dark head crested the stairs, sending my traitorous stomach plummeting. I fisted my hands until my fingernails bit my palms. Please don’t let Kat be with him. Please, please. Being civil to her took everything I had, and right now I was tapped.
He brushed the button, closing the door, and climbed the final step. Pausing, he surveyed the room, his gaze sliding impassively over me as if I were a bookshelf.
Fury heated my cheeks. Everything was an object to him. It didn’t matter if it was a car or a woman or a book. This was going to be the longest six weeks of my life. How he’d thought this was going to be anything other than a disaster was just proof of how out-of-touch the ultra-rich were.
Thankfully my dad had been the exception.
“I wanted to apologize.”
“No need. I was just leaving.” I wanted an exit other than the one behind him.
“Sit with me?”
“No thank you.” I couldn’t be in this room with him for any longer. He was an electrical charge and I couldn’t make my body not respond and I hated it. Everything was going wrong.
“Sangria, please. I don’t want us to be at odds this whole trip.”
“Then you should have left me home,” I yelled as I shoved past him and punched the button. The door inched its retreat into the wall, trapping my escape. I shook while I waited every excruciating second. Behind me, Mateo sighed, but didn’t say anything else.
I raced down the stairs, not pausing until I slammed my own door shut.
Flopping on the bed, I barely had time to fling my arm over my eyes before someone knocked. I pulled a pillow over my face. “Go away.” Muffled, it didn’t have near the impact I wanted. If I pressed hard enough, I could almost not hear the knocking. Surely Mateo hadn’t just chased me down the hall. My name cut through the feathers. I pressed harder until I couldn’t breathe.
Stuart’s voice was worse than Mateo’s.
CHAPTER
I ROLLED OVER and banged my head repeatedly against the pillow. Stuart knocked again.
“Go away.”
“No.”
I groaned and yanked the door open. “What?”
His gaze darted right and left. Never had he looked more wolfish. Head ducked, beady eyes darting around, I might as well be standing there in a red hood.
“I’d like to speak to you privately, for starters. Can I come in?”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, blocking the narrow entrance. “No need. You won’t be long.”
Stuart peered over his shoulder and dropped his voice to a whisper. “That’s no way to talk to the man who determines when and where you are for the next six weeks.”
I inclined my head. Was that a threat—or a bribe? I didn’t want to stand anywhere near him for any longer than I had to, so I leaned back, opening a small space. He immediately consumed it and I stepped away. My tiny dining set was barely big enough for one body, but I pulled my chair away, and put my back to the balcony glass door. Folding my hands in my lap, I sat on the edge of my chair. “Be quick.”
Stuart reclined in the other seat, one hand drumming on the tabletop. “I have a proposition for you.”
“This ought to be good.” The sarcasm pooled around us.
“I need your help with Kat.”
I stiffened. Other than throwing her overboard, I had no desire to help with Kat. Nothing about Kat appealed to me, and the time Stuart forced us to spend together at meals was more than plenty. There was nothing Stuart could offer that would make me reconsider—other than a plane ticket home—and that obviously wasn’t going to happen if he wanted my “help.”
“I need you to spy on her. She’s wreaking havoc with the other girls.”
We’d been on the boat for less than a day, I wasn’t sure what havoc he was referring too. Maybe I’d missed a few altercations while I’d been hidden away before lunch. “Like what?”
He signed and rubbed the back of his neck. “So far, she’s strung fishing line across the stairs, and emptied a bag of marbles on a floor.”
I laughed and he looked up. “I’m being serious, problem is, I think it’s great for ratings—and it’s mostly harmless—but the director’s team are worried she’s going to amp it up until she seriously injures someone. Which is still a ratings boost, but whatever. I’ve warned her, but she’s hell-bent on winning—at any cost. Basically, she’s acting like the delinquent at summer camp. I need to make sure she’s never alone.”
“Pretty sure Mateo’s taking care of that.” I managed not to glare.
Stuart stiffened and stared at the ocean view over my shoulder. “Yeah, he does seem to be spending a lot of time with her. But I plan on remedying that. Which is where you come in.”
“Why?”
“I need someone less involved to keep her under control.”
I laughed and leaned back in my chair. “That’s rich. What do you expect me to do?”
“Make friends, play nice, spend enough time with the girls so Kat doesn’t think anything about you being around when she tries to wander off alone.”
Stuart obviously had no clue about my shortcomings. Making friends hadn’t been easy for me since the first grade. It didn’t matter that he’d handicapped me by shoving me in late and in their faces. “Why me?”
He touched his throat. “For a few reasons. One, you’re missing a specific piece of jewelry, so any discussions we have aren’t recorded. Two, you know who Mateo is, so you’ll easily spot if someone knows something they shouldn’t.”
I fingered my necklace. “So far, no one’s noticed the difference, but that won’t last. Mandy’s smart enough to pick up on the discrepancy and wonder. How did you explain me?”
“I haven’t...Yet. No one’s asked. I’ll handle it when it comes up.” He sat up and leaned forward. “What’s your deal with Mateo anyway? You guys have some history or something?”
I managed to keep my voice level. “We’ve had a few business dealings in the past. I have no idea why he pushed to get me on the show.”
Stuart snorted. “Pushed is putting it mildly. He made quite the scene about it—threatened to quit.”
He could have knocked me o
ut of my chair with a feather. Mateo would have quit the show? My analytical side thought about the penalties we’d put in the contracts while my heart got mushy about it. I vaguely wondered if there was a lobotomy equivalent for the part of a heart responsible for stupidity. I jammed my fingers under my thighs and ignored my emotions, focusing instead on the rational stuff. The penalties were big—seven figures big. What would possess him to make that kind of a threat? “I—I’m not interested in him like that.”
Stuart grinned. “Good. I hoped that was the case. You didn’t seem overly excited last night. And you weren’t exactly a willing participant at lunch.” He quirked an eyebrow and I stared dumbfounded, still reeling at the information.
He rubbed his hands together. “So... I see you as my edge. An impartial player to keep the show’s best interest at heart.”
“You mean your best interests.”
He flattened his hand on the table. “Yes, and yours as well.”
I straightened, the fog evaporating. “Mine?”
“If the show’s a flop, who do you think the firm will blame?”
My fingers numbed. “Why me? I’m barely a contestant.”
His smile curled away from his teeth. “Editing, dear. It’s all in the editing. I can make the audience see exactly what I want.”
“So you came to threaten me?”
His smile softened and he looked almost human. Almost. “No. Not at all. I came with gifts.”
“Like what?” This had better be good.
“Your job.” He stood and fished a lump of keys from his front pocket, jerked his head toward the door in invitation and slid into the hallway “This way.”
I followed, hoping those were keys to a chopper waiting on the helideck.
Twenty feet down the hallway, Stuart stopped and peeled keys one at a time until he made it through half the wad. Bending, he slipped one in a perfectly camouflaged opening. With a twist, a six-inch panel beside my head slid away. I jumped back and stared at the lighted keypad.
Melodic tones pulsed out the code under Stuart’s fingers—music to my soul. I missed my alarm so much that I nearly kissed Stuart. Being alone took a long time to get used to—and some days I wasn’t sure it was ever something I could manage. Having an alarm let me sleep. I cut a sideways glance, not ready to admit that Stuart might be becoming an ally. Not only was he offering to honor my position with Mateo, but he was offering me the greatest gift ever without knowing it.
