by Leesa Bow
My body betrays me when my core ignites and my pulse quickens. I sense the air heating between us, sexual tension filling the space between Rhett and me.
“Contest is going to help you to understand Mr Williams on all levels. We understand physical attraction has the initial power, but we’ll set up special dates for you to get to know Rhett on an emotional and intellectual level.” I nod and smile in approval. “So, I guess I have to ask … Did Rhett pass the first test? Is there any physical attraction?”
Stupidly, I risk a quick glance Rhett’s way. His gaze lingers on my exposed chest, and I’m struggling to breathe normally. As though he senses the change in me, his eyes dart up to meet mine, and there’s a twinkle when he smiles.
“I, um, well, of course,” I manage. Rhett’s expression turns smug. From the day I met Rhett, with his conceited grin and arrogant personality, he unleashed a determination within me to want to break him. Not completely, only to subdue the conceited, narcissistic side, to unveil a side other than the egotistical, womanising sport star. The memory is enough to lift the haze of his spell. “As I said, I need more for the attraction to remain, and be real.” I shrug.
James looks to Rhett, then back at me. I’m sure he senses the sparks flying back and forth between us, sexuality and irritation equally. “I’ll be interested in watching how things pan out between you.” James takes my hand and guides me closer to Rhett. I stop directly in front and I’m looking up into pools of blue, determined not to drown. “You have the next two hours to get to know each other in a private dining room. Rhett, your date tonight is Victoria.” Rhett’s eyes grow round, as do mine. “We’ll catch up with you both tomorrow to hear all about your date.”
Rhett takes my hand and squeezes it tightly, in a way the camera couldn’t possibly miss. He smiles for the camera, then leads me to a side door.
He’s walking so fast I can barely keep up, or manage to look elegant in my heels.
Ingrid’s voice returns to my earpiece, telling us to turn and smile before entering the room. We do, and hold the pose for a second. “Ethan will join you when the food is served,” she tells us. “Now enter. You’ll have some time alone, but remember there are cameras everywhere.”
Rhett closes the door behind us and keeps hold of my hand in a vice-like grip. I’m forced to look up at him. The wall cameras are capturing our body language, but I hope one’s not positioned close enough to reveal my strained expression.
I sense the questions and accusations turning like cogs behind those intense eyes. He’s conveying one question, his eyes searching, demanding: Why?
“Shall we?” I nod toward the table, forcing composure.
Rhett stares a moment longer, but when he realises I can’t—won’t—give him more, his expression falters and he poises himself once more. “You might need to excuse my manners tonight, Victoria.” My breath hitches the way he says my name without emotion. “I’m not sure what you know about football players, but we have huge appetites, and I built up one with all the activity this afternoon.”
“I can imagine,” I say dryly.
Still, he doesn’t let go of my hand, and I know it’s his way of telling me he’s taking control of the situation and not letting any of this go without a fight.
For the next hour we partake in formal, curt conversation. All for the camera. Now and then his eyes laser mine. It’s the only tell-tale sign we know each other and are clearly not happy with the other. Though I doubt the ceiling cameras can pick up the unfriendliness.
A crème caramel dessert is served and the cameraman, Ethan, lingers while we taste it, and comment on our personal preference of sweets; a non-committal way of getting to know each other.
“Okay, you two, we have enough dinner footage,” Ingrid announces. “Boring as it might be, we shall edit it and endeavour to get something from it. Try and rev something up between the two of you tomorrow, and make this a worthwhile intruder love affair.”
I flinch at the way she says love affair. Rhett seems to miss the undertone.
“So I can treat Tori like one of the contestants?” Rhett asks, although he’s staring at me, so I receive the confirmation also.
“Yes, but we want the other contestants to be threatened. At the moment I think they believe we’re throwing them bait. They need to be convinced Tori is in it for real. We want them to react. You two can pretend to have a sexy romp to instigate a catfight. Do what you have to. Don’t worry about the script. We’ll edit it to make it work.”
Overlooking the way she said ‘pretend,’ I ask, “What about Rhett’s profile? About him being a better person, and the reason he’s on the show?” Rhett’s expression falters, as though he’s seeing right through me.
“Leave it to us to work it, Tori.”
Even after everything that has happened, my first instinct after hearing Ingrid’s voice is to protect Rhett and not my own career. I can act on the set, but around him my walls are weak. The barrier is permeable to my true feelings. I want to reach out to him, but the risk is too great. I clear my throat and say, “Of course. We should be able to manage it, since Rhett’s performed well over the years. Should be a piece of cake for him to pretend to like someone.”
His eyes narrow. I’m beginning to hate myself for digging up his past when, deep down, I know it’s not who he really is. It’s only the first night and I’m beginning to crumble. I’m so tired I doubt whether I can keep us this façade for much longer. My best defence is to not look him in the eye. Because those eyes hypnotise, and draw me in. Keeping my gaze low, I throw my napkin on the table and stand, then look to the door. “So are we good here? May I go to bed?”
“Sure. Go to bed, you two,” Ingrid’s exhausted voice says into my earpiece.
In a swift movement, I disassemble my mic, pulling it off like I’m tangled in a web.
Rhett watches for a moment before he removes his mic, while seated and with more poise. “You amuse me,” he says.
I still. “Why?” My heart picks up, fearing a confrontation.
“Drool-worthy.” He grins. “Of all the words you could have used you called me drool-worthy.”
My shoulders relax. “Sometimes I’m not as prepared as I should be …”
“Know the feeling.” His voice is tight, his composure waning. “You want to explain what’s going on here?”
“Nothing is going on,” I say in an even voice, although I’m not in as much control as I sound. I can’t even look at him. “I decided to come on the show because Ingrid needed me to get things moving.” I position my chair at the table in tidy fashion, before sneaking a quick glance. “You’ll have to excuse me. I arrived at the crack of dawn, so I’m heading to bed early.”
“Of course,” he says and folds his arms, “Victoria.” My eyes lock with his on command. “We will talk. And I will find out what you’re keeping from me, because I know there’s something you’re not telling me. You,” he says with emphasis, “don’t like being on this side of the camera. So why?”
My hearts pounding like an African drum. “What if there’s not a why? What if I re-evaluated and decided my promotion is more important to me than anything? A pay rise and a promotion is as good a reason as any to come on the show for a week or so and ruffle a few feathers. Easy money, really,” I add dismissively.
He surprises me by saying, “A week? You’ll be here till the end.”
Is that all he got from what I confessed? “But I’m—”
“Here to help me?” Rhett cocks an eyebrow. “I get to choose the winner, and now you’re here, you’ll win.”
“No.” He jerks away at the force of my words. “I mean”—I give him a rehearsed smile—“you can’t make a decision now, not when you’re forming solid relationships with the other contestants. You have to play fair. And I’m an intruder, remember, and supposedly barely know you. The audience know I’m on the back foot, and it would take a lot for you to fall for an intruder when you don’t know her.” I’m hinting not to g
ive away that we have history.
“But I do,” he whispers. “And I want—”
“To do the right thing and get re-signed by the Blackbirds, and to reinvent yourself.”
His eyes glaze over. “Right.” I barely hear him. Then he reaches for the wine bottle and pours himself another glass. “Sure you don’t want to stay and chat? Or get to know me better?” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, you will.”
Stupidly, I walk around the table to kiss him on the cheek because, as a contestant, it’s what I should do, right? I lean down and peck the spot along his jaw and near his ear. Rhett latches onto my hand. My face is level with his. “Stay,” he rasps.
“I can’t. Not tonight, anyway,” I say softly.
Rhett studies my face, and whatever he sees it’s enough for him to release me. He gives me a nod. I don’t wait for further consent. I’m striding across navy carpet and out of the door, in case Rhett changes his mind about the drink. Tonight is not ideal for him to discover I’m staying in the room next to his.
Flipping off my heels, I take the stairs to the third level, checking the hallway before I proceed. The key card is in my hand as I stride past Rhett’s room. Before I open my door, I check no one has seen where I’m rooming. When I flick on the lights, I flinch at how tidy my room is now, despite dressing in here before my entrance. Another reminder that all privacy is denied. I waste no time scrubbing my face clean of the thick make-up, and then curling up on the mattress beneath the covers. My head hurts from the day’s performance, and with no paracetamol on hand I have to suck it up with the rest of the shit pile.
My pity party continues for a while longer, until a door bangs on the other side of the wall. My brain and body home in, as though I possess highly sensitive, invisible feelers, reaching out and searching for him. I imagine him undressing, then lying on the bed only metres from me. Reaching up, I splay my fingers on the wall above the bed.
“Goodnight, Rhett,” I whisper.
RHETT
I wake before my alarm.
That’s not unusual, because my brain is wired to wake early so I can train, and I beat the damn alarm every bloody day. This morning, though, I expected not to wake before the buzzer after consuming a second bottle of wine last night, alone. But I did. Apart from yesterday I have managed to keep alcohol to a minimum so I can rise an hour earlier than everyone else. Considering my football contract is the reason I’m on this damn show, I’m determined to keep myself in reasonable shape so I can slip back into training with my team, and not look like I’ve been on a bender the past six weeks, while they slogged out a gruelling pre-season.
Yesterday.
Rubbing my hands over my face doesn’t erase the reality of what went down. I made a stupid decision, taking the pool antics a step too far. Sculling beer will do that. It didn’t help being annoyed about the whole Sally thing. Looking back, I regret how I handled it. Regret more being caught in a precarious situation by the one girl I’m trying to impress. Christ, Tori is helping me to be a better person, and yesterday I fucked up. Yet none of the frustration measures up to her little surprise.
My alarm buzzes and I jump out of my skin. Resisting the urge to throw the damn alarm clock at the wall, I slam my hand down to silence it. The bloody thing is so friggin’ annoying. Seriously, who uses those anymore anyway? People who have no mobile phones, because they’re being treated like children and have had them confiscated, that’s who.
Dragging my sorry arse out of bed, I dress ready for a run. My head pounds when I bend to tie up my laces, reminding me how much I drank after Tori left me alone. Now I wish Ingrid had interfered, like she normally would, and come back to stop me. I laugh sarcastically, realising they would have captured it all on camera and will use the footage anyway they please.
But Tori …
After promising each other no more secrets, she rocks up on the damn set as an intruder without a fucking word of warning. And, more, she’s treating me like the enemy.
Nothing is adding up. Hell, I have no idea what’s going on in her head. Something’s happened for her to agree to go on Contest, because I know her.
Tori, or should I say, Victoria, is either not the girl I thought she was, or—and it’s a big fat or—she’s being forced to do this. My gut turns over at the latter.
Tori’s not fake, and she’s not a bitch, which is the role she has agreed to play. Why, for fuck’s sake? I know her damn promotion is important to her. But this is extreme, regardless of a bloody incentive. She doesn’t seem the type to do shit for money. Unless it’s fucking blackmail.
I’m pacing the room, my thoughts spinning.
Ingrid hasn’t let anything slip. If anything she’s acting like I’m her new best friend. Even implied I should be on my guard with Tori.
Yeah, right. As if I’d trust Ingrid …
I brush my teeth fast, because I need to get outside and inhale the fresh air to clear my thoughts. On my way out I grab a sweat towel from the lounge where I had left it, and freeze when a door clicks shut in the room next to mine. It’s subtle, but I don’t miss it, after being the only person on this level for the past three weeks.
Call me suspicious, because, hey, I’m being watched twenty-four seven. I open my door slowly, but wide enough not to make it obvious. I catch Tori walking down the hall toward the elevators. “Tori?” I yank the door wider.
Tori stops, bows her head a moment before turning. She looks amazing, her face fresh without make-up, and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She’s wearing Lycra pants and a sweat shirt.
“You going to work out?”
“Um, yeah, after breakfast. Well, when breakfast settles. I knew you had the Newcastle home visit with Fleur today, so I assumed there wouldn’t be much shooting for us girls and no need to dress up.”
“But we both know the cameras will still be rolling …” And yet this doesn’t bother her. Not at all like Tori. I glance back in the direction from which she came. The hallway is empty, and only two rooms are beyond mine. I hitch my thumb at the hall. “Are you staying here?”
“302,” she says in a soft voice.
“Next door?” Christ, I sound like a surprised teenager, but Grant read me the rules along with the other contestants, and the girls are on level two, beneath me.
Tori nods.
“And you didn’t think to tell me last night?” She lowers her chin when she blushes. “You knew, and you didn’t say anything.”
Her perfectly shaped brow tightens. “Seriously, Rhett, what would you have done?”
Closing the gap between us, I’m one foot away from her, and I ignore the fact that my door closes behind me. “I would’ve come to your room and demanded answers,” I say too loudly.
“You think my answers or reasons would make all this go away?” She waves her hand then laughs quietly. “We mightn’t have our mics on, but there are cameras everywhere.”
“And they won’t necessarily hear everything,” I snap.
Looking into her eyes, her expression softens, and for a moment I see the pain keeping her from talking to me.
“We talked about what you needed to do on the show. What’s right for you, and your career. Stay on that path and everything will turn out fine.”
“What about you?” I whisper. “Us? What did you decide?”
Tori glances towards a camera near the elevator door. “You have to give all the girls a fair chance. The reason I’m here is to help you select the perfect girl. The girls don’t know, but I’m still working for the show.”
“And I call, bullshit,” I say in a low voice. I close the small distance between us. Tori takes a step back so she’s pressed up against the wall. “But since you’re here … consider it your duty to connect with the star of the show.” I lower my lips slowly, watching her face as I do. Her whole body is rigid, as though she’s nervous. “Just a kiss.”
>
At the last minute she turns her face and my lips land on her cheek. “I can’t,” she whispers.
“Sure you can,” I say, undeterred. “I’m expected to kiss the contestants. Consider it practice before the cameras are in your face. If you weren’t interested in me, you wouldn’t be here.” This time I take her face in my hands and slowly brush my lips over hers. She tastes sweet, and clean. Even the flowery scent of her perfume is turning me on. It’s a reminder of what kissing Tori leads to. My tongue dives in and tangles with hers. My body sings and pushes closer to find her soft curves. Her breasts press against my body, sending torpedoes through me, obliterating all self-control. It’s short-lived, because she stiffens and pulls her head to the side.
“Stop, Rhett, please,” she gasps.
She sounds torn, which doesn’t make sense. Contestants want me to kiss them. And it’s what couples do. “Why?” I protest.
Her eyes water. “I can’t do this here. Now.”
I’m not trying to upset her. I’m simply trying to grasp what’s happened and where we are, as a couple. “Fine.” I raise my voice. “But whatever the hell’s going on you’re going to tell me when I get back tonight. Understand?”
Tori nods. “Excuse me, but I have to go.”
Like a fool I stand there, dumbfounded. What the fuck did I miss? All I can think is that whatever we have can’t end this way. I continue to stare at her back until the elevator door opens, and then she’s gone.
The moment I turn around I realise I’m locked out of my room. Of all the days … I curse some more before heading downstairs. I’ll complete my work out before finding Ingrid, and hopefully not have to explain myself.
TORI
With Rhett and Fleur away on a home visit, I hoped to have time to reach out and connect with Lucy. Only it’s past midday and I haven’t seen her at all. Emma and Kaetrin are with me in the dining room, and we’ve been joking around the past half hour. While waiting around, I’ve tasted every dish from the lunchtime buffet. I can’t blame overeating entirely on waiting for Lucy, because after bumping into Rhett this morning I couldn’t stomach breakfast. My nerves have settled somewhat and my stomach is in catch-up mode, knowing he’s not around.