Page 15 of House of Desire

So, not just an angel for saving me, but a literal angel.

“Wow, that’s amazing. I’m so sorry about your friend, but what an amazing way to honor them.”

The two minutes are up quicker than I expect and Carmen is ushered into the mansion as I promise to catch up with her later. My time with Drew and Persephone goes smoother as my brain finally assists and regurgitates the list my assistant, Philip, provided of about fifty introduction questions I can ask.

Taking a deep breath, I settle in for the last woman in this limo. The door opens again and my mouth drops. Even in this group of stunning women, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen stands before me. Her dress is a vibrant crimson. The V-shaped neckline shows just a hint of cleavage causing my mouth to water. She runs her hands down her hips, adjusting the bodice of her dress.

With a smile that feels like the sun breaking through the clouds after a hurricane, she begins walking towards me. It feels like an eternity as I listen to her heels clack against the stones with each of her steps.

I scan down her body again and I see it. Her ankle turns and before I can do more than unclasp my hands, her entire body slams into the wet cobblestones, bringing her in a sprawling heap near my feet.

My knees crack against the cobblestone, pulling a cry of pain from my throat. Of course, this is my first impression with a man. I realized for a split second before I became intimately familiar with the ground, he was even prettier in person than he was on TV. I pray no one saw my fall. A frivolous, unanswered prayer.

Strong hands hoist me from my rock laden home, and I die a little inside.

“Are you okay?” the deep voice asks me. I know it’s not Jacob Jacobson. His voice is like a summer drizzle against warm ground. Quickly dissipates and is forgotten.

But this voice.

His voice is everything. It is the wave crashing against the shore. It is the tumble of thunder within the sky. It is the beauty of the brush stroke on the canvas.

It is all encompassing.

“Please tell me you didn’t see that,” I beg him to lie to me, looking up at his concerned face.

“The bright side is you will be the one I remember most from tonight,” he says, a soft smile on his lips.

I dust off one of the many dresses Charlie’s designer friend sold me at cost, which still made my credit card cry. He reaches out and I think he’s going to cusp my cheek. My face heats, but he pulls a leaf that inexplicably got tangled in my hair, dropping it down to the ground.

“While you’re getting to know the other ladies, I might be having a bonfire out back to destroy these shoes and send them to hell where they belong,” I tell him.

He gives me a small laugh, which pulls a smile to my lips.

“Should I have production get some sage? Smudge the space of the bad fall energy?”

His knowledge of smudging surprises me, easing my embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t want to put them out.” One of the people with a headset makes a hurry up motion with their hand and I know my time with Parker is coming to an end. “Come find me later?”

“The second I can,” he promises, his voice earnest.

I hold eye contact with him as long as I can, accepting the arm of one of the production assistants. As I cross the threshold of the mansion, all the aches from my fall make themselves known as if they were waiting for me to be done talking to Parker.

Very considerate of them, honestly.

My limo ladies are waiting inside with a glass of champagne for me. I accept it but only take a small sip.

“Ladies,” Carmen starts, lifting her glass, “to us and all the hell we will be put through. Let us remain friends despite trying to attract the attention of the same man.”

We all toast, taking a drink and as the bubbles burst across my tongue, I try to gauge how much of a disaster this is going to be.

Drew sits next to me on the couch. Her face has looked familiar since we were in the limo, but I still can’t place where I recognize her from. She doesn’t say anything as we sit together. The moment has the barest hint of awkwardness around the edges, but it’s to be expected in such an unusual situation. Camera people walk around the room, filming various groups, telling us not to look at the camera when we inevitably do.

Every five minutes or so a new woman enters the mansion and joins in the mingling until the evening has the air of a party while we wait for Parker.

Alcohol is flowing freely at a bar set up in the kitchen by production. I watch from my perch, nursing my original glass of champagne, watching the group get progressively more and more drunk. One thing Lorelei drilled into me after I was cast was to watch how much alcohol I consumed.

“Just remember, everything you say or do can be cut and edited out of context. And no matter what you do, don’t get drunk. You will regret it because it will inevitably be the footage they choose.”

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