Page 46 of Darn Knit All

“Will there be food?” Mai asked, patting her stomach. “I don’t think I’ll be able to form a sentence if I’m not fed.”

Bruce pulled out his phone, swiping rapidly. “The schedule doesn’t mention eating, but I’ll see that something is delivered.Though” —he sniffed delicately— “you really should have eaten on the plane.”

“How silly of us,” I drawled, clutching a hand to my chest. “We shall make a note to do so next time.”

Mai elbowed me in the side, a not-so-subtle hint.

I glanced down at her, our gazes meeting in a silent conversation.

Play nice.

I frowned, tipping my head toward Bruce.

I don’t want to. The guy is an ass.

She sighed, her expression turning pleading.

Please?

Rolling my eyes, I dropped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into my side.

“Only for you,” I murmured against her ear. “But if there’s no food in the next fifteen minutes, all bets are off.”

Our bags were handed off to a doorman before Bruce ushered us through the doors of the beautiful hotel, through another set of doors, and into a conference room that had been repurposed into a studio. The second our feet crossed the threshold a whirlwind of activity engulfed us.

“Smile,” an audio tech barked at me as she ripped my shirt from my body and began to strap a microphone to my chest. “You’re about to be a star.”

Microphone strapped down, my shirt was quickly replaced by a different woman who ushered us forward. Tall and lean, she had the kind of mannerisms that reminded me of a person who’d had three cups too many coffee. We followed, listening as she pointed out different areas of the staging. While she moved confidently through the chaos, Mai and I struggled, dodging bustling crew who were more focused on their miles of cables than the fresh meat walking by.

“I’m the director. You’re on my set,” the woman said, flicking dark-brown hair away from her tired face. “Which means I own you. When I say jump, you don’t ask how high, you just jump. Got me?”

I bristled, glancing at Mai. Her expression had blanked, but I read panic in her eyes. That panic was enough to calm whatever annoyance I felt. I was here for her—not me. I needed to check my ego at the door and just go with the flow.

We nodded, Mai’s hand finding mine as we walked.

“Good. We’re going to do couple interviews. You sit on a couch, you answer all the questions, and then you get to go join the other contestants at the party. Got me?”

I shot Mai a teasing look. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

The imposing woman glanced at me over her shoulder, her gaze narrowing. “A joker, are you? We’ll see how much you’re laughing once the competition starts.”

I exchanged a look with Mai, feeling strangely like a scolded schoolboy.

“She doesn’t like you,” Mai whispered, barely containing her laughter. “We’re already off to a horrible start.”

“No one hates me,” I said confidently. “They just don’t know they like me yet.”

“Sit. It’s time to prove you can charm the public.” The director clapped her hands like we were schoolkids and not grown-ass adults.

“What’s your name?” I asked, as we sat.

“Celeste, but you can call me sir.”

I swallowed a laugh. “Yes, sir.”

From seemingly nowhere, makeup artists appeared, plastering my face with creams and dust and something they called setting spray before scurrying off to leave us alone with the host of the show—Michelle Conliam.

Once named one of the most beautiful women in the world, the former model hadn’t lost an ounce of her charisma since her retirement. Her brown skin gleamed under the studio lights, and despite now being in her mid-forties, her close-cropped black hair showed only the faintest of gray in the strands.

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