The Prince’s GameA Mershano Empire Novel

by Lexi C. Foss

  “Good Morning, Evan,” Carrie greeted. “Sarah will be your assistant for the day.”

  He held out his hand, and I shook it on autopilot. Very businesslike. Seriously, what the hell?

  “Put me to work, boss.” I went for cheeky as my part and avoided Paul’s scrutiny. If he didn’t like it, he could yell “Cut!” and start us over again.

  Evan gestured to a large desk in the corner of the room. Beside it was the door to his office. A glimpse of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Mississippi River made my heart race. The pictures I could take from up here . . .

  “I hope you’re good with spreadsheets.” The sarcastic edge in his tone was not appreciated.

  “I think I can manage.”

  “We’ll see.” His expression radiated doubt.

  Yeah, okay, asshole.

  Where was the man I met last week? The one with the wicked gleam and dimpled smile? I liked him a lot more than this suited jerk. He still had a great ass, one that looked fantastic in those black slacks, and the five o’clock shadow was back, but the attitude had to go. If the cameras weren’t on us, I would say a few choice words. Rachel’s astute point Thursday night that the network could destroy my reputation was what kept me quiet. As a marketing professional, it would be detrimental to my career. I had to play nice for the producers.

  Damn you, Abby.

  I followed him past the reception area’s couches and the double doors of an ornate conference room. The desk he led me to in the walled corner was boring by comparison and void of any decor, but I could see into his office from the chair.

  “Here’s a list of what I need done.” Evan waved a hand toward a stack of papers with a note on top. “I’ll be in my office, if you have any questions.”

  I picked up the list. He wanted a spreadsheet reformatted and two memos edited, a stack of business cards needed to be added to his electronic contacts, and five meetings needed rescheduling. This was supposed to keep me busy all day?

  “Okay.” I sat down and fussed with the chair while he looked on expectantly. “Oh, I don’t have any questions.”

  “All right, then. No cameras in my office,” he said to Paul as he disappeared and closed the door.

  “Cut.” Paul sauntered over and leaned against the desk. “Nonchalant was not the way I expected you to play it, but I like it. What else are you planning?”

  “Right now?” I picked up the stack of crap and dropped it beside the keyboard. “I’m going to get this done.” Have fun filming it.

  He frowned. “You’re not going to wander in there and ask questions? You know, as a way to get to know him?”

  “I think he made it clear he doesn't want to be bothered at the moment, so I’ll play along for now.” Besides, the computer had internet. Excellent.

  5

  Mershano Standoff

  My tasks were done. I considered informing my “boss,” but he was on a call, so I pulled up my work email. One of my clients sent a proof back with edits. It was a human resources ad for an accounting firm in Chicago. I tinkered with the programs on the computer and found one that worked, and then I pulled up the design and started making the requested adjustments.

  “Thought you might want lunch, since someone rudely forgot to offer.” Brenda tossed a sandwich on my desk. The makeup artist flashed me a smile. “I hope you like turkey.”

  “Thanks.” It was after twelve. The crew members took a break to eat their lunches, but it was short-lived. They sprung into action as Evan’s parents stepped out of the elevator.

  “No filming,” Ellen snapped when the camera turned on. “All crew off the floor. Now. I need a private moment with my son.”

  I set my sandwich down and made to leave, but Jonah caught me by the arm. He was as tall as Evan and had to lean down to whisper in my ear. “Can you stay and make sure the cameras don’t come up here while we’re chatting?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.” My hesitation was in part due to his request, but it was more a result of his manhandling. He held me too close for a man who didn’t know my name.

  “Thanks, dear.” My skin crawled as he rubbed his palm up and down my arm before returning to his livid wife. She supervised the crew as they packed up their cameras. When the last one left the floor, she marched over to the executive office door and threw it open.

  “You are unbelievable, Evan!”

  “I’m sorry, Monsieur Delante. I’m going to need to call you back. Oui. Au revoir.” He set down the phone. “Hello, Mother. To what do I owe the pleasure? Father.” The latter was added as an afterthought.

  “Son.” His father used the same curt tone.

  “Oh, you know exactly why we’re here.” Ellen slammed the door, not that it shielded their voices from the reception area. I tried to finish my sandwich, but it was tasteless. I set it aside as Ellen ripped into her son. “We only agreed to your idea of putting the girls to work because you promised to socialize with them in each area. It’s one o’clock, and you haven’t left your office! You haven’t even socialized with your assistant.”

  “There are cameras everywhere, Mother. I’m watching.”

  There weren’t any cameras in the lobby. None that were obvious anyway, but just in case, I engrossed myself in work again as the argument flowed in the background.

  “Don’t you lie to me, young man. We both know you’re up here working.”

  “Yes, well, multitasking between a frivolous dating show and a multibillion-dollar company is time consuming.” His deep voice was underlined with a patience I admired. This was the man who owned a successful, lucrative company. He would have to be well versed in restraint. “I’ll get to the girls in a bit.”

  That didn’t pacify Ellen. “Our deal was very simple, Evan. You either take this seriously or you hand over the reins to Wyatt.”

  “Mother, I agreed to be on this ridiculous show. I’ve been nothing but pleasant to the gold diggers taking over my hotel, and I’ve tolerated that ridiculous director stalking around like he owns the place. I’ll propose to one of the debutantes at the end, and if she accepts, she’ll become my wife. All to appease you, Mother. So do not start with the threats again. I know what my inheritance clause states despite it being an archaic stipulation you refuse to grant me leniency on.”

  Well, that’s interesting. I gave up all pretenses of working; the marketing ad paled in comparison to what was going on behind the door.

  “Part of our agreement was for you to try. Picking a woman who denies you at the end because you ignored her the entire time goes against our terms.”

  “When do you expect me to work if I’m playing this stupid game? I’m going on a date all day tomorrow, wrapping up filming on Thursday for this episode, and kicking off a new episode on Friday with another group date.”

  “You make being surrounded by over a dozen willing women sound like a hardship.” His father’s tone was bored. “Take each of them to bed, have a good time of it, and pick the best performer. I don’t see why this is so hard?”

  “Oh, do shut up,” Ellen snapped.

  “What? I’m giving the boy helpful advice.”

  “You’re acting like a pig.”

  “Better than pushing romantic babble on the poor boy.”

  “And you two wonder why I have no interest in marriage,” Evan cut in. “Look, let me finish up what I’m working on, and then I’ll go wander around the hotel to check on everyone.”

  “You’ll go now.” Ellen’s tone brooked no argument.

  “I’ll go in thirty minutes and spend a total of two hours touring around. We’ll discuss the date picks later. That’s the best you’re getting from me today.”

  “I want to see more effort, Evan.” Ellen was quiet but firm.

  “And you will when I don’t have twenty women chasing me around like hungry puppies. Now get out of my office. I have work to do.”

  I flipped the screen back to Mershano-related work and pretended to review the memo I edited this morning.


  “If I don’t see you in thirty minutes, you won’t like my actions,” Ellen threatened from the opening door.

  “Duly noted. Good-bye, Mother. Father.”

  Ellen stalked over to the elevator and punched the button with more force than was necessary. Jonah lingered by my desk. “Sorry about that, sweetheart.”

  I forced a smile. “It’s okay. I enjoyed the break from the cameras.” He wasn’t listening to a word I said, too focused on my breasts to care. When his wife cleared her throat, he gave me a wink, which I didn’t return, and joined the woman in the elevator. Charming.

  A sigh fell from the other room through the open door. Evan’s head was in his hands, his thick hair clenched in his fingers. I thought Abby forcing me onto this show was bad, but it seemed his situation was worse. I went to the coffeemaker to get him a fresh cup. It wasn’t a huge consolation, but there wasn’t much to work with up here. I left it black and carried it in with a small knock. Wary eyes looked up at me as I set it on his desk.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Coffee?”

  “Yeah, you look like you could use it.” Not wanting to linger, I walked toward my desk.

  “Did you hear all of that?”

  I paused in the doorway, my back to him. “Uh, yeah.”

  “And how will you use it?”

  I turned around. “Use it?”

  “In this game. How will you use the information?”

  “Why would I use it for anything?”

  “Why wouldn’t you? What you just overheard is gold, right? A payday? Doesn’t that excite you?” That glower was back, raising my hackles. I wasn’t some punching bag to take hits on when he was feeling down. His parents pissed him off; I didn’t. I hadn’t done anything wrong despite his allegations that he was onto me.

  “No, it made me feel sorry for you, which was clearly a mistake. Now if you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll be at my desk, working.” I shut his office door and took a seat. “Ass,” I muttered. Taking his frustration out on me when I tried to do something nice for him was unacceptable. If he didn’t send me home tonight, I would have to find a way to get myself kicked off the show. This was stupid.

  The door opened and he stepped out, his dark eyes alight with fury. “Playing hard to get is not impressing me.”

  My eyebrows flew upward. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I’m not playing hard to get.”

  “Then what do you call this game of pretending not to know a damn thing about me or my family and purposely shutting the door on me in the middle of a conversation?”

  “Uh, I call it being realistic? I didn’t know who you were last week, assuming that’s what you’re talking about, and I shut the door during our conversation because you were being an ass.”

  He gaped at me. “I saw the tapes. You knew all about me during your interviews.”

  “I’m sure I did.” Abby would have done her homework. When my sister had a goal, she achieved it. And getting me on this stupid show was her ultimate hoax. At his confused look, I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  “No, explain that.”

  I puffed out a breath. “There’s no point. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

  “Try me.” The arrogant line of his jaw taunted me, but it was the accusatory glower that did me in. I couldn't stand it.

  “Go look at the social media accounts for Abigail Summers. Then we’ll talk.” I returned to my project, dismissing him. Whatever he chose to do was up to him. I had a marketing ad to finish.

  6

  The Real Sarah Summers

  I was toying with marketing fonts when Evan walked out and popped a hip against the desk. The glower was gone and was replaced by curiosity. “You have a twin sister.”

  “An identical twin sister. Yep.” I toyed with the size of the phrase on the screen. The purpose of the ad was to attract job applicants. The more legible the better.

  “Okay, and that applies to this how?”

  “It’s simple, really.” The text color was next. Something bold but not overstated. I toyed with shades of red while I spoke. “Abby and I have a history of pranking each other by impersonating one another. This time her impersonation went above and beyond the call of duty.” Red wasn’t working, so I moved to orange. And when that wasn’t quite right, I went the other way to purple. Ah, there we are. I grinned at my masterpiece. Beautiful.

  Evan said nothing while standing beside me, too busy staring at my screen. His eyebrows were pulled down. “What project is this?” He surveyed the notes left on the desk with a frown.

  “Oh, uh, this is something for work. My work in Chicago, I mean. I finished your tasks a few hours ago.”

  “That list should have kept you busy all day.”

  “Well, it didn’t.” I pulled up the completed spreadsheet and the memos and then showed him his contacts and calendars. “So yeah, when I was done, I checked my work email and got distracted.” I chewed my cheek, waiting for his reply. That probably wasn’t what he expected his assistant to do for the day. “Were there other, uh, tasks that I missed?”

  “No.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a look of unease filling his features. “You had access to the internet and used it to work?”

  “Well, yeah, what else would I use it for?”

  He leaned over me to take control of the mouse on my computer. It placed his broad chest right next to my cheek, giving me a whiff of his woodsy cologne. He started going through my internet history. “Did you post anything on social media about the show?”

  I snorted. “No, why would I? Only two people know I’m here. Abby and my best friend, and she only knows about this because she’s a lawyer. She reviewed the contracts and couldn’t find a loophole, so here I am.” Not that he had sufficient proof to believe me, but it didn’t matter. Crazy or not, he would send me home this round, and all would be right in the world. Except for one thing. “What did you mean last night when you said you were onto me?”

  He paused his perusal of the internet search history to meet my gaze. His close proximity left our lips inches apart, creating an air of intimacy between us that was entirely inappropriate. “I was referring to this act of yours about not knowing who I am or anything about my cousin. I’m not a fan of games.”

  “Yet you’re on a game show.”

  “Yes, and as you overheard, not by choice.” His chocolate eyes burned into mine, making my heart flutter. A girl could get lost in that gaze . . .

  “I don’t know what to say here,” I admitted, “other than I’m sorry and I’m not playing a game. I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

  “I almost believe you.” He flicked through the computer programs and pulled up the ad again. “You really worked on this all morning?”

  “I worked on edits.” I took the mouse back from him to flip over to my work email and show him the notes my client provided. “My vacation request was last minute and the project is due Monday, so I was trying to get a head start. Otherwise I’m going to end up working all weekend.”

  “And how do you plan to do that without a computer?”

  “Oh, I have a laptop at home.” Because I wasn’t allowed to bring it with me on the show. “I only borrowed this one today because it was here and connected to the internet.”

  “You have a laptop here or in Chicago?”

  “Chicago.” Why did he look so incredulous?

  “So you planned to fly back this weekend and then return to the show?”

  “No, I plan to be home by then. Well, I mean, I expected you to kick me off last night, but that went to hell in a handbasket because of your cousin. So I figure you’ll let me go this round and I’ll be home in plenty of time to work on my projects.” This ad was one of many presentations due in a few days. It was going to be a long weekend.

  “I’m letting you go?”

  “Well, that’s the hope anyway.” Realizing how that sounded, I grimaced. “I’m sorry. That was rude. This has nothing to do with
you; it’s just work. They’ll fire me if I’m not back on Monday.”

  “Because they don’t know you’re here?”

  “Among other things, yes. I didn’t know I was going to be here until the paperwork arrived in the mail, and by that point, Abby was already on a plane to Europe. Otherwise she would be here. I’m sure your producers would love her.”

  His grin made my belly flip. Those cute dimples were back. “She, or you, or whoever, was entertaining in those interviews.”

  “I bet.” Abby was an actress at heart. That was how she snagged all her wealthy boyfriends. It was never about love for her, but she played the hopeless-romantic role better than anyone I knew. “So anyway . . . that’s why I’m here.”

  I took over the mouse and hit save on my work before exporting it to the format my client needed. His hand settled beside mine on the desk as he watched me type up a short email and send the proof back to the customer. It was nerve-racking having him over my shoulder the whole time, but I thrived under pressure. Stern and Associates would never have employed me otherwise.

  “You must love your job.”

  “I love marketing,” I corrected. “Working for Stern and Associates is an amazing opportunity, but helping large corporations amass more wealth isn’t very satisfying.” I typed a link into the web browser and pulled up one of my favorite projects. “I helped design the website for this organization while finishing up my MBA. This is my true love.”

  I showed him the interactive pages I designed for children at an inner-city school to log physical activity. I had a soft spot for public health programs designed around preventing noncommunicable diseases. They needed the most help because their benefactors tended to pull out when the results weren’t immediate.