by Leesa Bow
“Yes. Yes. Thank you,” she says quickly.
I jump up and pull on jeans and a shirt. Running a finger through my hair I turn back to Fleur. “I’ll see you at breakfast, okay.”
She nods, and before I get to the door she says, “Rhett, wait. Did you get any sleep?”
I shrug. “Not really, but it doesn’t matter.” Although I don’t picture anything happening between Fleur and me in the future, I do care about her.
Fleur stares at me in amazement and gratitude. I give her a nod before I close the door. With luck, I reach the elevator without bumping into anyone in the hall. But when the elevator door slides open my luck runs out. Ingrid is leaning on the back wall, arms folded. Her expression tells me she’s not surprised to see me, despite commenting, “Not your floor, Mr Williams.”
“Morning, Ingrid,” I say, without adding anything. We ride in silence to my level. When the doors open I say, “Have a good one.”
But then she surprises me and exits the elevator with me. She walks beside me and says, “Don’t mind if we have a couple of words in private, do you?”
“Um, yeah I do. How about I meet you downstairs in five. We can chat over breakfast.”
“This won’t take a minute,” she says, and smiles in a way that makes every hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Flashing my card, I open the door a fraction. “Can you make it quick?” I stand there, not opening the door wider.
“Inside.” She folds her arms with a determined look.
I sigh and open the door to my perfectly made bed, and the towel folded on the bed from yesterday.
“So … where shall we begin,” she says. “I’ll start. You know we have cameras, everywhere.”
Digging my fists into my hips, I face her. “Yeah, I do. And?”
“Do you want to explain last night?” Her phone rings and she glances at the screen as though she’s about to silence it. When she reads the name she takes the call. “I’m in his room now.” Her eyes lock with mine as she listens to the caller on the other end, and it can only be Grant because she doesn’t interrupt. “Now?” Silence. “Fine.” She ends the call and gives me another curt look. “Grant wants a meeting with you after breakfast. What I have to say can wait until then.”
Christ, I thought she’d be happy I was getting closer to one of her girls. Means she’ll get a bonus and her damn promotion. Talking of promotions … my stomach dips when I realise I didn’t call Tori back.
Fuck.
Tori must think I’m a complete arse not to call her back after we fucked like sex-deprived teenagers last night. And as for the little prick who took the photos. I shake my head at the memory.
Christ.
I’m waiting for the fall out on that one. At least Tori’s face was concealed.
I search for the mobile phone and take it to the bathroom. Standing in the shower, I squat, thinking the cameras wouldn’t be angled lower than my waist, because that would be grounds for a lawsuit. Well, I bloody hope not. I send Tori a long text explaining everything. After it sends, I delete the message and switch it off. Tucking the phone in my pants, I walk out and discreetly hide it under my clothes again, and hope to hell Tori will understand.
TORI
When my phone rings, the vibration on the wood of the bedside table startles me from a deep sleep. I groan and wipe my eyes before checking caller ID.
Ingrid calling …
Shit. I sit up and clear my throat before answering.
“Hello,” I say, sounding chirpier than I feel.
“Tor, hope we haven’t woke you?”
We?
“No. What’s up?” I force myself to focus on her words while my brain catches up.
“Grant would like a meeting with you. Do you think you can get here?”
Ingrid’s voice holds no sign of urgency. “Sure. Is there something wrong?”
“Well, there are a few things we’d like to talk to you about, one being that Rhett spent the night in Fleur’s room.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I activate the speaker and then go into messages and notice the text from Rhett. “She’s one of your girls, right,” I say in an upbeat tone.
“Yeah. Has he mentioned anything to you?”
I swallow. Do I admit to coming last night? Do they know? “No. I’ll be there soon.”
“Thanks, Tor. See you then.”
Double shit.
Reading over Rhett’s message it now makes sense. I wonder how much has been caught on camera? Tossing my phone aside, I scramble into the shower, not having enough time to wash my hair.
On arriving, I’m greeted by Ingrid near the main entrance. There’s no one else in sight.
“Where is everyone? Any important shoots today?”
“All the girls are having spa treatments upstairs, except for Emma. We decided to bring her family visit forward to today. Paige is with Emma and Rhett, along with Jim and Ethan. Paige is doing surprisingly well”—she rolls her eyes—“so Grant decided to let her go with Dale and be HP for the day.”
Head producer. “What? So Dale must have faith in Paige if Grant isn’t there to have the final word.” By Ingrid’s tone, she’s threatened by Paige, and I wonder if Paige is also in line for the executive producer position, over Ingrid.
“Dale is giving us all extra responsibility, so I’m not worried. You haven’t been forgotten.” She smiles at me as we walk through the main doors. “Grant wants to make you an offer, today.”
I’m speechless. “Well, that’s a lovely surprise.” Instead of heading to the office we veer to the camera room on the right. Ingrid opens the door and allows me to enter first.
Stepping into the dark room, my gaze immediately lifts to the large screen mounted on the wall, to an image of Rhett, naked in the back seat of my car, my bare limbs the only part of me on show.
My body freezes.
Realisation hits, and my stomach nosedives and splatters across the carpet.
I stop breathing, and jump when the door bangs behind me. Tearing my gaze from the screen, I find Grant sitting in an office chair, one leg crossed over the other.
“You took the photos?” I whisper the accusation.
His gaze lingers on the screen. “No, not me. Someone associated with the show. We were always going to watch our star like a hawk.” His hands close like a temple, fingers tapping, as though he’s pondering.
“Lust causes us to make rash decisions, don’t you think?” He swivels his chair so our gazes meet. I swallow hard. My cheeks burn, as understanding passes between us. Lost for words, I nod. “And I’m not going to ask you to explain, because we both know it wasn’t the first time.”
“You bitch,” Ingrid says, and I jerk, forgetting she’s standing behind me. She slides into the chair beside Grant. I don’t react to her tone, because I’m already filled with complete shame.
Grant folds his arms. “We want to know how far you’ll go to fix it.”
I turn away from the screen and focus on Grant, because, right now, looking at his arrogant expression is better than looking at the screen. “Anything,” I rasp.
Grant taps his fingers along the arm of the chair. “Good answer, because we have a right to sue for breach of contract.”
My heart’s pounding so hard against my ribs it’s about to crack the cage open. Even by breathing shallow and fast, I struggle for air. My thoughts are spinning from Rhett’s football contract, to my job, and being prosecuted. I blow out air in an effort not to pass out.
“Sit before you fall,” Ingrid demands, with a needle-like tone. I’m hurting everywhere. I slump into the chair, not caring what they dish at me. I’m back at school, hearing the taunts, then I’m with my mother, bearing the weight of her disappointment. My chin dips with the wave of negative thoughts bombarding my brain.
“You’re going to help Ingrid get her promotion, and her bonus.”
I look up at her piercing gaze.
“How?” I croak.
; Ingrid leans forward. “You’re going on the show as a contestant.” She smiles at me as though she’s the best friend in the world.
My gaze flickers from Grant to Ingrid, and back to Grant. My heartbeat is loud in my ears. I’m not sure I heard her right. “That’s it?”
Grant scratches the stubble along his jaw. “Basically, yes.”
When I first open my mouth, nothing comes out. I cough, finding my voice. “You’re telling me if I go on the show as a contestant you’ll forget everything? Rhett’s football contract won’t be in jeopardy?” I don’t keep the doubt out of my tone.
“Rhett doesn’t know anything. And we’re going to keep it that way. Oh, and I believe this is yours.” Ingrid hands me the phone I gave to Rhett. “FYI, he didn’t get your last message.”
I take the phone with trembling fingers and plop it into my bag. Could I sink any lower? “What does he know?”
“He knows we caught him on camera using the phone. I knew it was from you. I told him I didn’t care who gave it to him, just to hand it over. So he cooperated. We spoke about him spending the night in Fleur’s room. Something went down with her and Sally, but after your little prank it’s now irrelevant, because we have a new plan.”
I’m tired of her manipulating games. I know what she’s capable of, but I have no choice but to cooperate. “Get straight to the point.”
Ingrid shoots me a wry smile. “Rhett will be oblivious to you coming in as a late contestant until you appear on the show. You’ll tell no one. Your job will be to help Lucy win, become her ally and cause friction among the other girls. You’re the new villain,” she says proudly.
“What if Lucy doesn’t win. What if, say, Sally or Fleur wins. They’re still your girls?” I argue.
“Lucy is best suited to win the game, and she has the least baggage. There’ll be an eviction next week, and Sally will be sent home.”
“And you’re sure he’ll choose Sally?” I’m not as convinced as Ingrid.
“Yes, because of the Fleur thing. We know drugs were involved, but not how. We don’t want a marijuana addict on the show. And, yes, we have camera footage of her chucking in the toilet to prove her addiction.”
I nod at her and understand their reasons. “Sounds like an obvious choice.” I focus on Grant. “How can I be sure that once the show’s over, you’ll keep your promise to Rhett? Will I be fired?”
“Fire you?” Grant laughs, and the vile sound makes me want to puke. “Hell no. You proved to be one hell of a manipulator, and exactly what the show needs. If you do what we ask, you’ll get your promotion, and Rhett will re-sign with his football club. Everyone will be happy. Except you and Rhett won’t be a couple, because you can’t win. Winning is not a possibility, so you have to make sure you do everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t pick you. He has to believe you no longer have feelings for him. On the upside, we’ll make sure he doesn’t evict you. Do you think you can manage to make him hate you?”
My throat burns as I take in what is expected of me. “Piece of cake,” I croak.
Grant gives me one nod. “Go home, Tori. Pack your clothes and be here tomorrow. We’ll keep you in hiding until tomorrow night. Adele will have you looking beautiful, even more irresistible to Rhett than you are now.”
“Irresistible? Why?” I rasp.
“Because it’s going to be fun watching him crumble when you reject him. He’s going to want you badly, think he’ll be able to fuck you in secret.” Grant clasps his hands. “But you’re going to toss him aside like he means nothing. Give the guy a taste of his own medicine. So, if you have to screw him again to do it, you have our permission.” I gape at Grant. “Not like we haven’t seen images of you two in action already.”
Subdued and embarrassed, I stare at the floor. “It won’t happen again.”
“If it needs to happen, then seduce him. It’s not for footage, but to get into his head. You are going to fuck him over.”
My lips press tightly and I breathe through my nose. My chest squeezes in pain. I can’t fight it any longer. Tears spill onto my cheeks and I quickly swipe them away. “And you’ll burn all evidence?”
“Yes. After the show. You can do this, Tori. It’s for the best. It would never have worked between you two anyway. He played you like he’s played every girl. You have a chance to show him how it hurts, and make him do the right thing. He’s on the show to set his life right. And Lucy is the perfect girl to help him do it.” Ingrid rubs my arm in an effort to soothe me. For a moment, I actually believe she cares.
I take in a deep breath and stand.
No. I can’t trust anyone.
“I won’t let you down. I’ll be here tomorrow morning and check straight in with Adele.”
Ingrid stands with me. “I’ll walk you out.”
“No need. I’ll use the bathroom first and then go. You don’t have to worry about me doing the wrong thing. I’m sorry. I’ve learnt my lesson and really can’t believe I was so stupid.” I give Ingrid an exasperated look. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re fine, Tor. He was always going to break someone. Now you have a chance for revenge.”
I nod, like I get what she’s saying. Instead, I’m filled with the same numbness as when I came home from the Bahamas after being screwed over. Literally.
Holding my chin high, I stride out of the room and head straight to the bathroom. As soon as I open the door to the cubicle, I lean over and puke up breakfast. And I keep puking until I’m heaving, with nothing remaining in my stomach.
After wiping my mouth, I make a beeline to the main doors, and don’t stop or look back until I reach my car. For a moment I rest my forehead on the steering wheel until I can focus. With a deep breath, I concentrate on what I need to do, and why.
I need my job. I want my promotion. Nothing has changed my perspective, especially not great sex with Rhett. Sex. Not love. Hard and fast, and all lust, like Grant had said.
I. Can. Do. This.
Starting the engine, I hit the accelerator a little too hard, leaving the hotel, the people, in a cloud of smoke behind me.
From now, the past is the past. It will always be behind me. I make a promise to let go, and focus on what lies ahead: my future, and what’s best for me.
RHETT
“Mr Williams, we’re ninety minutes out of Adelaide,” my driver, Stan, announces. We’re thirty minutes into the journey home after leaving the township of Morgan, where Emma resides.
“Thank you.” I’m familiar with some of the small country towns we have passed, so I had already estimated what time we would arrive back at the hotel. Sitting in the back of the BMW with Emma, I take her hand in mine. “I think today went well.”
Her eyes twinkle when she smiles. “I do too. Mum and Dad both like you.”
“Yeah, I got that.” I laugh. “Think your dad’s my number one fan.”
Emma groans. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d have all that stuff for you to sign.”
I rub my thumb over her knuckles. “It’s all good. I’m used to it. If I can win some supporters to join the club, then I’ve done my job.”
Emma giggles. “Well, that makes me feel a little less embarrassed. I don’t think he’ll be able to contain himself if I have a footballer as a boyfriend.”
And there it is. The idea of having the football player as a boyfriend weighed higher than me. Emma is also from a country town, and I thought she would at least understand what you see is what you get. My shackles go up but I withhold from making a snarky remark.
“We need to make a detour,” Stan announces.
I smell smoke coming through the air vents. Out the window to my left, smoke billows into the sky, forming grey clouds. My stomach clenches. It’s in the direction of my hometown. The farm. “Can you turn up the radio, mate?”
Stan speaks into his earpiece before doing what I ask. He changes the radio station until we find one broadcasting the news. The newsreader confirms my fear and announces a bush fire,
originating north of Berri.
“You’re from around Berri, right?” Emma says quickly.
“Yeah.” I turn back to the driver. “Stan, I need to use your phone.”
“You know it’s not permitted, Mr Williams,” he says in apology.
“It’s a fucking emergency. There has to be some way.”
“I’ll call Grant and you can talk to him.” He dials the number, and it comes up on the Bluetooth of the car.
Grant answers the phone and Stan intercepts. “Mr Williams would like a word.”
“Rhett, I was about to call. I don’t want you to panic.”
“Too late,” I butt in.
“I’ve spoken to your mum, and she wants you to call when you get back here. What we need is for you and Emma to be out of the line of the fire. The wind gusts have caused the fire to act erratically and head west. It’s travelling at an alarming speed. We need both Emma and you and the crew back here. Safe.”
Emma gasps. I rub my hand along her arm, comforting her.
“Is my family safe?” I need him to repeat it.
“Yes. You can call when you get back here.”
“Thank you,” I say, and my shoulders ease a fraction.
Stan disconnects us, then he changes the channel on the radio. I tap out the rhythm to the song on Emma’s wrist. It’s not enough to distract me, because both Emma and I continue to stare out the window toward the smoke.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell her, although it’s more for myself.
A half hour later the driver repeats what he’s heard in his earpiece. “Fifteen people have been taken to hospital for treatment. Damage to hundreds of homes.
“But no fatalities,” I confirm.
“Correct.”
That gives me some relief, but my gut is quivering. I won’t be able to relax until we’re back at the hotel and I can call my mother and hear her voice.
My thoughts are stuck on nine years ago and not being there for my father when he needed me. It will straight out kill me if something happens to my mother and I’m not there to help her. Especially for something as pointless as a fucking reality TV show.
