This was the moment I had planned for, where I’d gently discourage her interest and put up a wall just to see if she pushed.
“Miss Jones,” I said softly, “Mr. Stonewood expressly forbids contestants from fraternizing with the help.”
Her brows lifted.
“Fraternizing?”
“I’m a groundskeeper,” I said, letting the word fall like a stone between us. “A servant. Not someone worthy of a contestant’s time or attention, especially considering this competition exists to help him choose a wife.”
Her mouth opened, lips parting in indignation, and then a voice cut in from behind her.
“Well, if you’re looking for someone to fraternize with,” the decoy drawled, “you’re welcome to start with me.”
It was her assigned partner, number seven. The actor… a six-foot-three black-haired blue-eyed mistake in a black domino mask with a strong jaw and shit for brains. He actually could have passed for me pre-accident. All nine of the decoy Bens could.
Every muscle in my body went still, and I had to resist the urge to throttle him, even though this was all part of my master plan.
Chrissy startled, turning toward him. He gave her a thousand-watt movie star smile and a slow, appreciative once-over, running with the script I’d paid him to stick to. Still, I had an overwhelming urge to gouge his fucking eyes out for looking at my girl like that.
“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath. “Seriously?”
He extended his hand lazily, took hers, and pulled her against him, hard. For just a second, his lips came down on hers, as if he couldn’t help himself, then he stepped back a fraction and spoke.
“Number 7, sweetheart. Looks like we’re matched for the challenges this week. Can’t say I’m upset about it.”
Territorial rage snapped through my spine so fierce and white-hot I nearly dropped the façade right then and there.
Henry was across the foyer in two strides, playing along with the staged situation instantly. He met my eyes.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to.
Henry turned to the actor.
“Number seven, you’re dismissed.”
Seven blinked.
“What?”
“You’re done,” Henry said, his deep, silky voice perfectly calm and precise. “Turn in your mask and leave the property immediately.”
“But — the game?—”
“The game’s rules have been violated.”
Henry didn’t even raise his voice. That was the dangerous part. He didn’t have to.
Seven sputtered, tried to recover, then remembered recovery wasn’t an option. He stormed out through the side hallway, muttering curses that sold the lie spectacularly. On the other side of the room, the rest of the women shifted and looked at each other, each obviously weighing up the fact that they now knew that number seven wasn’t the real Ben Stonewood.
The foyer went very, very quiet as Henry turned to Chrissy.
“Unfortunately,” he said with crisp finality, “you no longer have a partner. And no contestant may enter the Game without one. Unless someone volunteers to stand in for him, you cannot continue, and you will be escorted off the property.”
Chrissy stiffened, eyes flashing.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, Miss Jones, I’m afraid I’m quite serious. I’m sure that you read the rules.”
