Page 6 of The Billionaire Love Match

THREE

This is a huge mistake.Casey had known it in her gut and should have run out the door, especially after the altercation in the bathroom with Lucas. Instead, she was stuffed with a group of women in eveningwear in a small, airless room behind the stage, waiting to take their places. This was going to be a disaster. She could feel it.

It didn’t matter about the money and if anything, she knew now that nothing would stop Lucas from coming after her. Except maybe a restraining order. Or a bodyguard.

Her heart thumped remembering the way that the bodyguards had dragged Lucas from the bathroom. It beat harder when she thought about Mr. Casual and the way his lips moved against hers. Everything from the way he smelled close-up to the way her body registered every inch of his—that wasn’t the kind of thing you’d find on a dating show. Now if she was chosen, he would probably see her on television on this stupid show and think she was even crazier than he already did.

But she wished that he had at least asked for her number before she ran out of the bathroom. He seemed to feel the same intensity that surprised her when she put her lips to his, but maybe she was just remembering it all wrong. Probably. Like with Lucas—she was terrible at reading people.

“Let’s go, ladies!” A man with a headset clapped his hands and began ushering the women like cattle out onto the stage.

Casey fell in step behind a woman in a gorgeous purple chiffon dress. Her skin was a rich and dark against the bright color. “I love your dress,” Casey whispered, leaning forward as the producer halted the group.

The woman half-turned and gave her a brilliant smile that seemed genuine. “Thanks,” she whispered back. “I’m having massive second thoughts about all of this.”

“Me too. Is it too late to quit?”

“Probably,” the woman said. “I’m sure in all those contracts we signed there was something about an escape clause.”

Casey giggled. “Well, if we both make it on, want to stick together? A misery loves company kind of thing?”

The woman laughed—a rich melodic sound—and another producer type in a headset shushed them. Now Casey was giggling too. She knew so much of it was nerves. “You got a deal,” the woman whispered as they began to move forward again.

The curtain was open on the stage, which meant that the whole crowd could watch as the various set crew arranged the girls in a semi-circle on the right side. On the left there was a small table that had a group of unlit candles on it. An older man in a tux stood at the center of the stage, getting his makeup freshened.

Casey felt her gut wrenching with nerves as one of the crew practically yanked her by the shoulders and arranged her next to the girl in the purple dress. She knew Amanda was out there in the crowd somewhere, her personal cheerleader, but with the stage lights, she couldn’t make out anything other than a lot of bodies packed into the room. There was a constant murmur in the crowd of people as the setup dragged out over what felt like half an hour.

Casey’s legs were shaking slightly. She should have eaten a sandwich or something before she left the apartment hours ago with her luggage. But then, she assumed they would have fed them or at least done something by now. She made a mental note to stop thinking optimistically. Instead, she should prepare for the worst.

The host in the tux spoke into the mic. “Helloooo, everyone! And welcome!”

Cheers broke out in the room and Casey joined the other girls in evening gowns in clapping politely. Where were all the guys that were the Potential Love Matches? She suddenly had a sinking feeling that something was fishy with this show.

“I’m Chris Haversham and I’ve got a few instructions for you before the cameras get rolling and we officially start. You’ll see people up in front holding up signs reminding you to applaud or gasp or have a reaction—the louder the better on those. This is going to be a live show, so we won’t be doing second takes and there are no commercial breaks. Once we start, it’s on. We have security throughout the building to remove you if needed, but I’m sure we’re not going to have a problem with this crowd tonight, are we?”

Again the crowd cheered and Casey snorted, seeing people up front holding signs that must have instructed them to applaud. This was every bit as contrived as she should have expected, but still somehow Casey was surprised.

He went through more instructions and Casey’s stomach growled loudly. When was the last time she ate? It might have been the day before. She normally never forgot a meal, but the whole day had been spent getting ready for this event, which had probably been going on for a few hours now. Casey really hoped this wouldn’t take forever. If it was live, it should be faster. She desperately needed something to eat.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, they finally got all the cameras situated and the lights set up and everything just right. A producer or someone over the speakers told everyone to be quiet and then counted down: “Five...four...three...”

The last two numbers were silent and Casey felt herself counting down in her head. Here it goes, she thought. My whole life like a ticking time bomb. Ugh. Too dramatic, she told herself right as Chris Haversham boomed into the mic.

“Hellooooooo to our live studio audience and our live audience watching at home!” He paused for clapping and cheers, pacing at the front of the stage and waving at the crowd and cameras. “Welcome to the first event of its kind: Billionaire Love Match!”

The crowd went crazy and a ripple went through the group of ladies. Casey felt like she’d been punched. Billionaire? She immediately pictured a gray-haired man in a suit working in a corner office. This was not what she signed up for—but why was she surprised?

“I’ll explain more about how the show will work in just a few moments, but first—who wants to meet our bachelor?”

More cheers. Casey felt a mixture of hungry and nervous and nauseated. Not a good combo. She tried to stand still without locking her knees. That was a tip she had learned from her father, who had told the story countless times of all the guys who passed out in basic training because they locked their knees.

“Always give yourself a little bounce,” he always told her. She made sure to relax just slightly.

The lights went down and a single spotlight turned toward the other side of the stage as dramatic music played. “Ladies,” Chris Haversham said, waving an arm to the women on the stage. “May I introduce our bachelor...billionaire bad boy, Colt Woods!”

The whole room seemed to explode. The people in the audience were going crazy. Casey scanned the room for Amanda, but then the lights came up, presumably so the camera that swept by could film the women. All the women around Casey were screaming. A few jumped up and down in their heels—a dangerous idea—and one or two were actually crying. Obviously they had planned ahead with waterproof mascara, as their tears ran clear. Only Casey stood still, which meant that she had a clear view when he bounded onto the stage.

Her heart dropped. Mr. Casual was Colt Woods.

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