Page 9 of The Prince's Game
The former beauty queen beamed. “Yup.”
“Ladies, resume bickering in three, two, one . . .” The yelling picked up with a wave of his hand. The show’s host waited until a finger went his way to start interrupting, and then the hostess blew a whistle that deafened my ears. The lady had a pair of lungs on her.
“Now, hold on, ladies.” Joseph flashed an affable grin. “There is a benefit to all of this. Evan will be watching everyone closely, visiting different groups to supervise and chat. At the end, he’ll select two of you for a very intimate group date. This is a big deal because there will be no other dates this week prior to the elimination.”
Excited chatter broke out around me as challenge swept over the crowd. We were getting to the heart of the game show. I could hear the announcers saying in a dramatic voice,Who will win the prince’s two-on-one date tonight? I refrained from rolling my eyes.
“Now, there are twenty positions ranging from his personal assistant to dishwashers to maids to reception staff. Each . . .” He smiled. The word assistantechoed thickly through the air. “Yes, ladies, apersonalassistant, meaning one of you gets to spend the entire day working alongside Evan in his office upstairs, but whoever lands the assistant role isn’t eligible for the date tonight. As I was saying, each job will be randomly assigned using the conventional method of picking a position from a hat.”
Carrie nudged her cohost playfully. “But who goes first, Joseph?”
“I was thinking by birthday, youngest to oldest.” Which would make me last pick.Joy. “Or we could go by birthday month and day?” That would put me in the middle of the pack with my July birthday. It’d be a little better, and wouldn’t focus on me being the oldest of the bunch. “Is there a preference?”
“Let’s go by month and day.” Carrie snapped her fingers. A crew member dressed in a tuxedo handed Joseph a purple-and-green top hat with a gold feather. Several of the girls giggled at it. I suspected it came from the streets of New Orleans—a throwback to the show’s location.Nice.
They called us out by birthdate. Each woman picked a gold coin from the hat; on it was the job title. Paul captured each woman’s reaction on film, chuckling silently at the frowns and distaste radiating from those who were given manual work. The girl with the nails ended up a maid, while Amber, who had a February birthday, was placed at the reception desk. There were five positions left when the camera rolled my way. I grabbed a heavy token and read the title out loud.
“Personal assistant.” Those two words took a moment to register. I expected to be a dishwasher or a cook. If the girls disliked me before, they hated me now.Well, crap. An entire day working with Evan? I wanted to know what he meant last night, but I didn’t want to spendtimewith him. Unless I could make him send me home . . .
“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t go by age, huh?” one of the girls remarked. I didn’t know who said it, and I didn’t care.
The rest of the positions were handed out, and directions were given on where to report. I was told to wait for the hosts, a clear indication of how my day was going to go. Nothing like working under the pressure of a camera all day. If drama was their hope, they would be disappointed. I wasn’t built for television. Abby was the one they wanted. Her interviews were what put me on the show. Too bad we were nothing alike.
“Okay, so here’s the deal.” Paul’s hands were on my shoulders. “The sweater is cute and all, but we need you in a dress around Evan.”Of course you do.“Work with Kami over there. I have something specific in mind for you to wear.”
Like a good puppet, I went with Kami and found myself in a tight black dress that hit me midthigh. At least it wasn’t orange this time, and it was better than some of the maid outfits the other girls were forced to wear. Brenda, the makeup artist assigned to my face, stopped by to touch up my mascara while a hairdresser pulled out my twist and worked my hair into luxurious tousles. The whole experience wasted an hour of my life, but I looked hot.
I met Joseph and Carrie in the hallway near the elevators. The redhead gave a nod of approval. “Nice. Camera crew is already upstairs.” She hit the button to call the elevator. “Paul says to pick a part before the doors open.”
“A part?” I was an actress now?
“You know, seductress, shy and quiet, nervous, excited, whatever. Just make it good, or we’ll have to do this all over again.” From her tone, I gathered she didn’t want that to happen.
“Right.” Would annoyed work? Because I could pull that off. I had nothing by the time we hit the top floor. Theater wasn’t my strength.
“And smile,” Carrie instructed as the doors opened.
Bright lights and four-inch stiletto heels were not a good combination. I managed a smile and shuffled out of the elevator into the center of a lavish reception area where Evan was waiting in a suit and tie. His brown gaze darkened upon seeing me, but his grin remained in place. That small tell made me uneasy.Okay.At some point, I pissed him off. I thought back on my conversation with Will last night. It was the only thing I could think of that may have angered him after our meeting at the bottom of the stairs. Did Will insinuate that we were flirting last night? A drama ploy for the cameras?
“Good Morning, Evan,” Carrie greeted. “Sarah will be your assistant for the day.”
He held out his hand, and I shook it on autopilot. Very businesslike.Seriously, what the hell?
“Put me to work, boss.” I went for cheeky as mypartand avoided Paul’s scrutiny. If he didn’t like it, he could yell “Cut!” and start us over again.
Evan gestured to a large desk in the corner of the room. Beside it was the door to his office. A glimpse of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Mississippi River made my heart race.The pictures I could take from up here . . .
“I hope you’re good with spreadsheets.” The sarcastic edge in his tone was not appreciated.
“I think I can manage.”
“We’ll see.” His expression radiated doubt.
Yeah, okay, asshole.
Where was the man I met last week? The one with the wicked gleam and dimpled smile? I liked him a lot more than this suited jerk. He still had a great ass, one that looked fantastic in those black slacks, and the five o’clock shadow was back, but the attitude had to go. If the cameras weren’t on us, I would say a few choice words. Rachel’s astute point Thursday night that the network could destroy my reputation was what kept me quiet. As a marketing professional, it would be detrimental to my career. I had to play nice for the producers.
Damn you, Abby.
