by Lexi C. Foss
“This is amazing.”
“I can’t take all the credit.” I flipped to the contact page. “It was their idea; I just created the website and portals for activity logging. So far, it’s successful.”
“Do you keep in touch with them?”
“Of course. I make updates whenever they request it.”
“And they pay you?” His business side was showing.
“Sure, but nothing compared to what I make with Stern and Associates.” I closed the browser and settled back in the chair. He was leaning over me, reminding me of our interaction last week. The man was oblivious to personal space, not that I minded. Without his jacket on, I was up close and personal with all that delicious muscle beneath his thin white dress shirt. Eye candy indeed. “One day, I want to own my own firm and focus on altruistic projects instead of moneymaking initiatives. I’d still take a few on to pay the bills, but the majority would be public health related.”
“Why not do that now?”
I looked around his ornate reception area. “Not all of us come from the same background that you do, Mister Mershano. I still have an MBA loan to pay off and an expensive studio in Chicago to keep up. Besides, branching out on my own requires contacts and project proposals. I need a couple more years at Stern and Associates before I get there.”
“The job you plan to go back to this weekend.”
“That’s the one.”
The wicked glint was back in his intense gaze. He angled his body toward mine instead of the computer and picked up a strand of my hair. Coiling it around his finger, he murmured, “And if I decide to keep you around?”
My heart jolted. “Why would you do that?”
“Why indeed?” His gaze dropped to my lips. He was about to say more when the elevator opened. His gaze held mine while his mother marched out with a cameraman right behind her. She stopped upon seeing us at the desk, her hazel eyes widening. “I believe that’s my cue to start my rounds. This has been an enlightening conversation, Sarah.”
He pressed his lips to my cheek. The back of his hand brushed my breast as he let go of my hair. My nerves tingled at the unexpected intimacy and woke up parts of me that hadn’t been touched by a man in far too long. Those delicious dark eyes gazed knowingly down at me as he straightened to his full height. He played the part of bad boy caught in the act well. His expression didn’t show an ounce of remorse. I was too flustered to pull that off.
“Let me grab my jacket.” He smoothed out his tie and walked into his office. I avoided the camera by pulling up his memo and reading it for the fifth time. He stopped by the desk on his way out and leaned over to brush a soft kiss against my temple before whispering, “Your internet access shall remain our little secret. Don’t abuse it.”
Heat crawled up my neck at the display of affection and the impact his words had on my heart. His gift meant I could keep working. He had no idea how much that meant to me. “Thank you.”
He winked, and unlike his father’s, this one left me feeling warm inside. The man better send me home soon, or I’m in trouble.
7
Unclear Intentions
Twenty women, one prince, and seventeen keys. Not my kind of fairy tale.
The tension was palpable, and the waterworks were on standby. I stood between Tiffany and Georgiana on the third step of the grand staircase, waiting for the ceremony to start. Evan’s family wasn’t involved tonight, and he knew the truth. He had every excuse needed to send me home this time. And then I’ll never see him again.
The pit in my stomach tightened. I wanted to get back to my life in Chicago and move on from all this, but there was something about him that captivated me. He stood before us in a suit that hugged his muscular form to perfection and exuded a quiet confidence I admired. Despite my best intentions, I was drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame. If I got too close, I would get burned.
Sharp nails dug into my arm as Tiffany lost her balance beside me. She grimaced and let me go after regaining her footing. “Oh, Sarah, I’m sorry. It’s these damn shoes.”
I looked at her four-inch stilettos. “No worries.” She was one of the women Evan chose for his two-on-one date. Amber was the other one. It seemed the prince had a preference for blondes. Unlike the southern belle, Tiffany was all legs and model-tall. She was the kind of girl men looked at twice and women hated on sight. Kind of like Rachel.
“Why did they put me in stilettos?” Tiffany muttered.
“Because the producers want to show off your legs in that dress,” I replied. It was a deep blue that ended just below her ass. Mine was a burnt orange with a plunging neckline. I had to go braless because of it. Good thing the girls are perky.
She snorted. “I look ridiculous. I would never wear this at home.”
I couldn’t say the same about mine. It popped against my tan skin, and my breasts looked great. If I had somewhere to wear it, I would do so in a heartbeat.
“They made me wear a tight minidress last night, too,” she added. Pink tinged her pale cheeks. “I was so uncomfortable.”
“At least you got to go,” Georgiana sneered from my other side. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you.”
“Oh, I wasn’t.” Tiffany’s hand fluttered against her chest as she peeked at the buxom beauty on my other side. “I just, it’s, well, I’m not used to this.”
“None of us are, honey. But you better buck up and get used to it.” Georgiana dismissed her with a look and whispered something to the brunette in front of her. The slender woman with hawkish features glanced over her shoulder with a smirk, making Tiffany’s blue eyes drop to her feet. Her lack of self-confidence and sweet demeanor made her an easy target for the other girls. If it was an act, it was a believable one.
“For the record, I’m not a fan of it either,” I replied loud enough for all the girls to hear. Evan quirked an eyebrow at me. A little too loud, then. “Sorry, discussing wardrobe choices.” Some of the girls gasped, surprised by my audacity. What did I care? He was sending me home in a few minutes.
Those sexy dimples flashed up at me. “Not a fan of evening attire, Miss Summers?”
“Oh no, I love my dress, Mister Mershano. I’m just not a fan of stilettos on stairs.” My feet didn’t care about the heels at all, but I wanted to make Tiffany feel better. I wasn’t a fan of bullying.
His alluring laugh made me shiver. He turned to the spiky-haired director. “She has a point, Paul. Can you hurry up?”
“Yeah, just two more minutes.” The man took a call after filming Joseph’s intro to the elimination ceremony and left us all standing here to wait. Not like we have anything better to do.
“Why does he call you Miss Summers?” Tiffany whispered.
“I have no idea.” But I’m starting to like it. The other night it came off as formal and dismissive. Tonight it was said with an affectionate lilt that made me smile. He was flirting with me. I could get used to that.
“Ladies, sorry about that.” Paul pocketed his phone. “Producers take priority. Anyway, let’s get back to it. Joseph, off to the side. We’ll pan around Evan to get varying shots of his emotions and then shift to the girls’ faces.” He started sounding off commands to his minions to get everyone in place. Getting it done in one take was his goal. Works for me.
Evan stood in the center of the ornate lobby, beside a table with a stack of hotel keys. Not a glamorous gift, but the hotel suites were nice. Mine had a view of the Mississippi, just like Will said it would, and an oversized king bed. As far as luxuries went, it was top-notch.
“All right, Evan, the time has come.” Joseph stood beside the prince, his hand on his shoulder. “Good luck.” He gave him a pat and stepped out of the shot as Paul requested. Cameras rolled around Evan as he waited for the signal to let him know that he could get started.
“Ladies,” Evan greeted after receiving his signal, “you all look amazing tonight.” A few of the women returned the compliment, making him grin. The suit was hot, but I missed the jeans
and jacket. It was sexier and gave him the illusion of being attainable. Casual looked good on him. Not that I would ever see it again.
“Thank you all for your help in the hotel this week. I hope you had fun and learned a little bit more about what I do. I enjoyed watching your reactions and answering your questions and getting to know a bit more about each of you.” He met my gaze on that last comment, making my heart drop to my stomach. “That being said, this wasn’t an easy decision. You’re all spirited, gorgeous women, and I’m pretty sure men everywhere envy me right now.” That elicited a few giggles, but he didn’t smile. Because he doesn’t want to be here. “Well . . .” He cleared his throat and picked up the first key. “I only have seventeen of these, so let’s get started.”
The room fell silent as all the girls stopped breathing. It was an odd sensation that sent goosebumps flying over my skin. Nerves played racquetball in my abdomen as we waited for him to speak. I wanted to go home, but the anticipation of hearing my name on his lips floored me. What if he picks me? What if he doesn’t? Logic warred with instinct. I needed to get out of here. The game was messing with my head.
Tiffany Chambers was the first name called. The tall woman would have fallen if I hadn’t caught her elbow. She flashed me an appreciative smile before moving down the stairs to accept her key. He gave her a hug before sending her back to the spot beside me and continued the process. It was a good thing they placed five women on each step. We used the extra space to shift around as each woman went down to accept her key.
My nerves danced as the pile dwindled. Each name he called that wasn’t mine felt like a punch to the gut. The competitive atmosphere was getting to me. It made me want to stay for the wrong reasons. Returning to Chicago and my real life was the goal. He wasn’t meant for me. My lust for him would fade, and all would be fine in a week or two. It’s not like I know him.
“Ladies, there’s one key left,” Joseph murmured. “Who will it be, Evan?”
I swallowed. I’m going home in three, two . . .
“Miss Summers.” Evan’s all-consuming gaze pinned me in place. He just said my name. And it wasn’t in conjunction with me leaving. My pulse jumped. Was this a joke? Did I hear him right?
Tiffany nudged me when I didn’t move. “Go,” she mouthed.
I stepped forward on heels that wobbled, and stopped a foot away from him. His grin was sin personified. He called my name last on purpose. Bastard.
“Your résumé is almost as impressive as your work, Miss Summers. I can’t wait to learn more about you.” He handed me the key and trailed his finger down my knuckles. The flirtatious touch burned. His lips brushed my ear as he pulled me into a hug. “Surprised, Sarah?”
I was speechless. He was supposed to send me home. What the hell is going on here? I returned his embrace on autopilot and melted against him as he held me a moment longer than was appropriate. Hot, hard, virile. I’m in so much trouble. He pressed his lips to my temple and then to the corner of my mouth. The intimacy of the act was not lost on me—or the other girls, if their expressions were anything to go by on my return trip to the stairs. I knew what jealousy looked like, and I saw it in several narrowed gazes.
Joseph and Carrie said something to the group, indicating it was time for the three eliminated contestants to say their farewells. Their exits bordered on dramatic. They bid Evan a tearful good-bye before a hoard of cameras escorted them out the door. Champagne flowed in their wake as we were invited to toast the final seventeen around the prince and fawn over him for selecting us.
It all went by in a blur as I struggled to understand what I did to deserve the prolonged stay in hell. What the fuck just happened? I wasn’t sure what bothered me more: the fact that he didn’t send me home or the realization that a part of me was happy he said my name. I need therapy.
When they dismissed us for the night, I went straight to my room and jumped in the shower to wash all the crap out of my hair and off my face. Playing dress up wasn’t my favorite activity, but I had to do it all over again tomorrow. Shit.
He kept me. What did that mean? What happens if he forces me to stay? That wasn’t something I factored into my plans. I assumed it would be a no-brainer to send me home, yet here I was in the top seventeen. This cannot be happening right now.
“You need to get a grip,” I told myself and shut off the water. I had a few days to figure this out. As long as the next round of eliminations happened Sunday, I would be fine.
I wrapped a towel around myself and combed the tangles from my damp hair. My hand was on the dryer when a soft knock caught me off guard. Expecting it to be one of the girls or a crew member, I walked over and opened it without looking. Evan stood on the other side, his arms braced on either side of the door, caging me in the room. The hallway behind him was silent and empty.
Amusement darkened his eyes as he took in my towel and wet hair. “Evening, Sarah. I have a proposition for you.”
8
The Proposition
“Get in here before someone sees you,” I hissed. The last thing I needed was a scandal. “The Prince of New Orleans Makes Midnight Visit to Contestant’s Room” would be the news headline on those gossip sites.
Evan walked in with a devilish grin, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed onto my bed. He crossed his jean-clad legs at the ankles and slipped an arm under his head to prop himself up on the pillows. The black leather jacket fell open to reveal his grey shirt and a sliver of his flat stomach. So much sexier than the penguin suit.
“What are you doing in my room?”
Those full lips curled upward. “You just invited me in, sweetheart.”
My hands went to my hips, reminding me I was in a very short towel, something he more than noticed. “You know what I mean.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Yes, you said that already.”
He patted the bed with his free hand, and I rose an eyebrow. I was not a pet to be commanded.
“I like to be on the same eye level when I negotiate.”
“Then you should have stayed standing.” Not that I minded him lounging on my bed. He looked good there. Sin incarnate.
“And tower over you?” He tsked. “That could be seen as intimidation, sort of like how you’re staring down at me now.” Yet he was the picture of ease, one arm behind his head and the other lying at his side while his fingers drummed over the quilt. He was like some sort of decadent dessert, sprawled out on my bed and ready to be savored. My thighs clenched. His body was made for licking, and if that glimpse of skin was anything to go by, he would taste delicious. Stop drooling, Sarah.
“Fine, but I’m putting on clothes first.”
“I’m fine with you in a towel.”
“I’m sure you are.” I picked a pair of black shorts and a tank top from my suitcase before going into the bathroom to change. I didn’t bother with a bra. It was late, I was tired, and my breasts enjoyed their freedom. He could deal with it. I combed my wet hair again before joining him on the bed. I sat cross-legged and faced him. His eyes went to my chest as I expected they would. He was a man, after all.
“I’m fine with this, too,” he murmured. His chocolate gaze flicked over my exposed legs before settling on my face. “I’ll pay you to stay.”
“Excuse me?” There was no way I heard that right.
He sat up and rested his back against the headboard. Drawing up a knee, he wrapped one arm around it and laid the other over his thigh. “There’s a clause in my inheritance that requires me to produce an heir before I’m thirty-eight. If I don’t, I forfeit the company to the next in line, which would be Wyatt.”
I didn’t know much about his younger brother other than he lived up to the rebel nickname. “I’m guessing by your tone, you don’t want that to happen.”
“My wayward brother has no interest in running Mershano Suites, let alone working. Putting him in charge would be catastrophic for the company and my employees. Why else would I agree to this frivolous
dating game?”
Why else indeed? “Does the inheritance clause apply to Wyatt as well?” I couldn’t remember his exact age but recalled him being in his thirties.
“It does, and he’s already fulfilled it despite being very single.”
I frowned. “You’re saying he has a kid?” Totally missed that fact while researching. The younger brother really was a rebel.
“Yes. Not one he ever sees or takes care of, but I don’t want to discuss my brother’s antics. What matters is that Wyatt meets the archaic qualifications but lacks the maturity and desire to run Mershano Suites.”
“Okay.” I could understand one’s desire not to run a multibillion-dollar organization, but it seemed Wyatt Mershano had an aversion to responsibility. “That’s quite the predicament, but I don’t understand what it has to do with me.”
“Well, this show is a bargain of sorts. My parents picked the thirty contestants based on qualities they think make a good wife, and I have to propose to one in the end. If she says no, the clause is null and void, and I’m a free man. The problem is they went out and picked a bunch of women who would never refuse, except you.”
“Because they interviewed Abby.”
“Exactly.”
“Meaning you believe me.” And forced me to stay on this show despite me telling you I wanted to leave.
He looked me over and grinned. “You don’t giggle, Sarah.”
“I don’t giggle?” What the hell did that have to do with anything?
“Abby giggles, but you laugh. I saw it on the camera footage Paul forced me to watch this morning. Your laugh was nothing like the woman in the interview despite your identical appearance.”
I stared at him. He was right, but few people ever noticed our minute differences. How strange that this man who knew little about me recognized something so nuanced.
“You’re also a terrible liar,” he added. “I watched the conversation you had with Will. When he asked if you wanted time with me, you said no and tried to cover your tracks. It was almost sad.”