Page 22 of House of Desire

“I’d love to,” she whispers so quietly I barely hear it. My hand reaches out to offer her the lit candle, but production stops us.

“Wait! You need to speak up. Let’s take it again from you asking her, Parker,” the faceless guy from the wings says.

“Aisha, will you accept this spark of my desire?” I repeat, hoping my face doesn’t show any annoyance from having to repeat myself.

“I’d love to,” Aisha replies, this time loud enough to be heard. Production allows her to go back to her position in the group and I grab up another candle.

Woman after woman presents themselves to me and I ask each one if they would like to be the spark of my desire until, finally, I’m at the last candle. Before I can grab the candle, Jacob Jacobson steps up, as expected, and addresses the ladies once more.

“Parker, ladies, this is the last candle of the night.” He melts back into the shadows and I grab the candle, lighting it.

“Mia,” I say and the tall, blonde, California girl with beautiful hazel eyes walks forward. She comes up to my shoulders. Not short, but not tall. “Mia, will you accept the spark of my desire?”

“I’d like nothing more,” she says before stepping forward. Instead of grabbing the candle, she grabs my face, pulling my lips down to hers.

The kiss is nice, if not a little aggressive. Taken aback, my eyes stay open and I am able to see the outrage on some of the other women. But it’s the slight look of hurt on Anastasia’s face that makes me pull back.

Clearing my throat, I hand her the candle without further comment. Jacob steps forward once more and brings the elimination ceremony to a close.

“Ladies, if you have not received a candle tonight, you will not be continuing on in the House of Desire. Please say your goodbyes.”

All the women are broken from their stances they’ve held for the better part of an hour and start mingling. Mary Ella walks up to me, her arms outstretched for a hug, which I give her.

“This is going to be a fun season, I can already tell. Beware that some of them might be pretending, Parker. Presenting only the most perfect version of themselves in front of the cameras can be overwhelming as we know,” she whispers into my ear. I give her a kiss on the cheek in thanks.

“It was great seeing you. When I get out of here, maybe we should organize a House of Deceit reunion.”

“I’ll text Charlie when I get home,” she says, waving as she steps away. Production leads her through the house, but my attention is quickly grabbed by another woman.

Persephone’s anger is written in every line of her face and body.

“Well, Parker. I’m glad you eliminated me because if you didn’t I would have removed myself. I just don’t think you’ll be able to keep up with me. I require quite a lot from my paramours. Plus, you just seem so bland,” she says, looking at her nails, a haughty smirk on her face.

I know she’s lashing out from embarrassment. No one ever wants to go home on the first night, but that doesn’t matter to my brain.

Brittany’s voice comes back into my head, just like it did when I was speaking with Persephone earlier, and I don’t regret sending her home, no matter how much of a catch she probably is.

“I’m glad it worked out the way you wanted it to, then.” I stick my hands in my pockets, unsure of what I should do with them. She moves past me, shoving her shoulder into mine roughly and I smile at the childish display. Maybe she wasn’t as much of a catch as I thought she was.

It’s finally just the women I kept and me. For the final shot, everyone has a drink. Holding my glass in the air, I address them all.

“I can’t wait to deepen my connections with all of you. Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about having the chance to get to know all of you amazing women. This is going to be the season they talk about for years to come. Here’s to House of Desire.” We all clink our glasses and the ladies cheer. Some take sips, others just stand there.

The second the cameras get their shot, a member of production bleeds from the shadows.

“Cut! Great job everyone,” they say.

My assistant, Philip, magically appears at my elbow.

“Parker, your suite is in the pool house. I will take you there now. Ladies, if you’ll follow Sam”—Philip indicates a man standing off to the side of the room—“he’ll show you to your rooms.”

The women begin shuffling around while I follow Philip out the back door. I wish I had a chance to talk to Anastasia more, but exhaustion slams into me like a linebacker and I can barely keep my eyes open. A hand at my elbow guides me around the pool, the first vestiges of dawn on the horizon.

“You won’t have anything to film today, so sleep as long as you want because tomorrow, the real fun begins,” Philip says. Words fail me, all my energy focused on putting one foot in front of the other, the air like molasses around me, making my movements sluggish.

He unlocks the pool house for me and flips on the lights. He tries to take me on a short tour but I ignore him, making a mental note to apologize for my rudeness later when I go straight down the only hallway to where the bedroom must reside. Kicking off my shoes, I flop down on the bed, asleep before my face hits the pillow.

All fourteen of us stand in a circle, dressed like we are about to go to war. My hair is tied into braided pigtails at Zoey’s instance. The blue-haired girl is a force of nature when it comes to styling my hair, and sometimes it’s easier to bend like a willow than stand firm against her gale force winds. Except when she tried to convince me over dessert to let her tattoo me.

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