“Is that why he sent all the staff home this week?” Carrie’s acting skills were impressive. I almost believed she was surprised.
“That is indeed why he did it.” Bright blue eyes took in the semicircle of uneasy contestants. “Ladies, he wants you to run the hotel for the week.”
“He wants us to work?” The one who spoke flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and pursed her lips.
“Perfect.” Paul mouthed the word and honed in on a few others as they chimed in with their disapproval. The lines were all part of a script the writers handed out to specific people during breakfast. They skipped me. Smart move.
“Uh, yeah, I’m not here to work.” That came from a tall redhead.
“You expect me to wash dishes? That will, like, totally ruin my nails.” Some blonde Valley girl.
“Isn’t the whole purpose to be his new princess? If he wants a maid, he can hire one.” Another redhead. I was sensing a theme.
“Oh, stop your yappin’. Evan spent years workin’ in the industry before taking over the Mershano empire.” Amber’s hands were on her hips. “I think Evan wants us to prove that we can respect his hard work and what he’s built. If y’all can’t do that, then there’s the door.” She pointed to the exit.
“Buh-bye,” Georgiana added with a theatrical wave.
Chaos ensued as insults were hurtled back at the pair. The minions Amber adopted this morning were quick to defend their queen bee, evoking a huge grin from Paul. I fought the urge to roll my eyes as everything went to hell in a handbasket fast. At the crest of the complaints, Paul silenced the group with a loud “Cut!” He then continued in a normal tone, “That was fantastic. Joseph, we’re going to pan back to you as you try to silence them all. When that doesn’t work, Carrie, I want you to whistle. Got it?”
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 assistant echoed thickly through the air. “Yes, ladies, a personal assistant, 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 spend time with 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?