Page 10 of The Billionaire Love Match

“Well, folks,” Chris Haversham’s voice boomed out. “We’ve got a live one!” With no one holding up LAUGH signs, the room was awkwardly still.

Colt groaned softly. Haversham did not work very well off-script. Even from a distance he could feel his mother’s irritation emanating. He turned to see Casey back on her feet, still looking unsteady and pale. Knowing it was expected, he crossed the stage to her and squeezed her hand.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said. “We were really worried about you.”

His words sounded flat and false, despite the fact that he really and truly was worried about her. Just not for the reasons everyone might think. She smiled tightly and gave him a quick nod. “Thanks,” she said.

Chris Haversham clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Now that we’ve got Casey back on her feet—let’s give her a quick hand, folks!—we’ll finish off with Colt announcing the final spot in the top fifteen women. Colt?”

He wasn’t sure if he should light the next candle, but given the small fire that had broken out when Casey passed out, he felt like the best choice was to leave it unlit.

The stage lights were up, the room lights were down, and dramatic music played from speakers somewhere. A camera was practically inches from his face. All Colt wanted to do was shove it out of the way and wrap Casey up in his arms. She met his eyes, briefly, and the look there was impossible to miss: she was miserable. His gut twisted.

“I choose...”

He looked dramatically between the two women as he was supposed to do. Casey stared at the ground in front of her, fists balled at her side, looking like she had already lost. Lisa bit her bottom lip in a look that he knew was supposed to be sexy. He couldn’t see his mother, but could almost feel her presence somewhere off behind him, probably bouncing up and down with glee, watching the views increase in real time.

“I choose...Lisa.”

Colt could tell how much trouble he would be in with his mother later based on the fact that the room barely registered his words. Even Haversham looked shocked. The guys down front must have started waving their signs like crazy because the audience’s murmurs turned to awkward clapping. Overall, the palpable feeling in the room was stunned.

Except for Lisa, who was squealing and bouncing up and down precariously in her heels.

To soften how harsh this must look to people watching, Colt wrapped Casey in a hug before he handed the candle to Lisa. The feel of her in his arms sent jolts through him. I’m like a teenager with a huge crush, he thought. But it was totally unlike anything he’d ever felt.

He leaned close to her ear for a moment. “I’m sorry, Boots,” he whispered in a low enough voice he didn’t think the mics would pick it up. “Trust me, it’s for the best.”

She pulled away and gave a tight smile. He could see that she was fighting tears. It took everything in him to turn away from her and to smile at Lisa as he handed her the unlit candle.

“Lisa, will you consider being my Potential Love Match?”

Lisa jumped into his arms, latching onto him and swinging him back and forth in something between a hug and MMA-style hold. Over her shoulder, the other women smiled politely and Colt saw a producer leading Casey away. Her head was down and just from the view he saw of the back of her neck, she looked completely dejected.

All Colt wanted to do was run after her, but instead he smiled and untangled himself from Lisa, who joined the other women. Chris Haversham said some words, Colt waved and smiled and answered questions, but it felt like a dream. His reality had walked right out the door with Casey.

****

“WE HAVE TO FIX THIS,” his mother said. She was pacing, which Colt knew was stage two out of four in her crisis management. He and his father came up with the stages when he was about sixteen. Stage one was dark and angry looks. Stage two was pacing. Stage three was terrifyingly controlled talk. Stage four, if she ever got there (which was rare) involved breaking things or breaking people.

Thinking of his father made Colt’s mood even darker. He missed his father so much. Despite everything Colt hated about his mother—her incessant drive, her win-at-all-costs attitude, her lack of compassion—his father had loved her. And he softened Grace. Colt could remember times where his mother was sweet and kind. Her eyes softened when Steve told her she was beautiful or pulled her in for a kiss. All of his mother’s soft edges seemed to have been buried with his father, leaving her with only sharpened points. He missed his father, but also who his mother had been when he was around. Everything had become so different. His father’s death meant the bottom dropped out of their family. What would he think of them now?

“Are you listening, Colton? This is your mess.”

“I know it is,” he said.

“What were you thinking? I told you to pick her. You even seemed to like her.”

“Lisa’s much hotter. She was your original pick, so I thought maybe your instincts had been right. You misread my feelings for Casey. It’s called acting, Mother.”

He had gotten his start as an actor, just like his mother. Unlike her, though, it came easily to him. Slipping in and out of characters on set, becoming someone else entirely. There was a pleasure in it, but also something empty and uncomfortable he couldn’t pinpoint. His mother told him time and again that she would have killed for the gift he had for being on screen. But he preferred the other side of the camera.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “Colton. You don’t seem particularly motivated to make this right. Don’t forget what’s on the line here. You did read the stipulations in the contract, correct? All of them?”

This got his attention. He seemed to remember something in the fifty-plus page contract he signed about him needing to do whatever it took to make the show a success. It was such a vague phrase, but Colt guessed his mother’s lawyer could make quick arguments around it, taking away the whole reason he was doing this show. He definitely wasn’t going to go through the painful process of having his life and awkward dates filmed and then not get his studio.

“We could have one of the actresses you planted do something stupid as a distraction,” he said, watching her face.

Her face gave nothing away, which actually gave it all away. His hunch had been right. She gave a mirthless laugh. “Wouldn’t that make my life easier! If we had someone on the inside. I should have thought of that.”

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