Vivian pushed off the wall as a grin spread wide across her face. “The infamous Alexis.” The woman stuck out her hand. Her fingers were exceptionally long, and her nails were polished a deep red. “I’ve always loved a villain.”
Alexis’s mouth dropped open. “Wow,” she stammered. “Good to know subtlety’s still dead.” She wasn’t sure if she should be offended. And even if she was, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do about it.
Vivian simply laughed. “You’ll find I don’t bother with subtlety. Welcome toVilla Amour. Shall I give you the grand tour?”
Before Alexis could object or come up with an excuse to run to the nearest restroom, Vivian already had her hand on Alexis’s back and was leading her through the arched doorway.
“This is the entrance hall,” Vivian said, flourishing her hand across the expansive space. “We’ll be doing all the flowerceremonies in here.” She pointed up to the ceiling painted with faded frescoes of cherubs. “That’s seventeenth century, though the wings were retouched more recently.” She tilted her head up, gave a squint, and sighed. “Pigeon incident, apparently.”
Alexis barely had time to look before Vivian ushered her into another room. This one was a sitting room with velvet armchairs the color of Bordeaux and a marble fireplace so massive it could’ve doubled as a chapel.
“So,” Vivian said, plucking a peach from a porcelain bowl on a side table. “How was your flight?”
“Fine,” Alexis replied, a little too quickly.
She was nervous. It would be weird if she weren’t, wouldn’t it? She wouldn’t be human if she weren’t. Last season’s viewers had called her cold and soulless, and she had no illusion that some of this season’s contestants had already seen the show and filed her neatly into that category. The thought made her stomach knot itself into tiny pretzels.
“Just long.”
“Of course. Direct from PDX?” Vivian asked, already pivoting down a hallway lined with gilt-framed portraits of solemn-looking Frenchwomen.
“Yes,” Alexis said, trailing after her. “And no, I don’t have jet lag yet.”
Vivian glanced at her over her shoulder and then stopped next to a narrow console table with a vase of fresh lavender. “I wasn’t going to ask about jet lag.”
“Oh,” Alexis said, mortified.
She had no idea why she’d even said what she said. It was just that people always asked about jet lag. It was an icebreaker. A conversational crutch. Apparently, a useless one. Which made her feel even more nervous now. What if she said something stupid to the contestants? What if the cameras caught her blanking, fumbling, or worse, rambling the way she didwhen she was trying too hard? Last season, she had been on the other side of it, just one of the contestants. The pressure had been lighter because it had been spread among the group. But now the pressure was all hers. She was the lead. The star. More accurately, the villain who was trying to pass herself off as a heroine.
Vivian bit into the soft peach and stared at her. “So, have you been to Provence before?”
“No,” Alexis replied, shaking her head, hating the sound of Vivian’s chewing. She had self-diagnosed misophonia and would probably have remarked on it if she weren’t trying to be a better person. “I’ve only been to Paris, and that was years ago.”
“The city of love,” Vivian said, taking another large bite of her peach. “Do you speak any French?”
“I don’t.”
“Have you ever dated a French woman?”
Alexis shook her head.
“Do you actually believe redemption arcs work, or do you think the producers are making a mistake bringing you in this season?”
Alexis blinked. “Excuse me?”
Vivian grinned wide and unbothered. “Just trying to get a sense of you. Quick questions, quick answers. It helps me read people.” She took another bite of the peach and added, “You’d be surprised at what people give away when you catch them off guard.”
“Good to know,” Alexis muttered, making a mental note to keep her guard up.
Vivian laughed and led her into the dining room. It was a soaring space with high ceilings and glass walls that framed the rolling vineyards. “So, when last did you sleep with someone?”
Alexis froze with her mouth half-open at the question. It was a ridiculous question and way too invasive. She wasabsolutely not going to answer it, and she was just about to say that, but then suddenly Birdie’s face crashed into her mind. She could picture the way she’d fumbled with her honey-blonde fringe, pink cheeks, eyes darting nervously when Alexis had suggested they go to a hotel. Alexis remembered how it had made her chest tighten and how it had made her want to lean in closer just to see if Birdie’s nervousness could somehow be contagious.
“So,” Vivian asked, tilting her head to the side, watching Alexis like she was some calculation that needed to be deciphered. “Care to answer? A little honesty can go a long way.”
But before Alexis could even open her mouth, Elise suddenly swept into the room.
“Great to see you’re settling in,” she said, tapping the clipboard she was carrying against her thigh. “The glam team is waiting upstairs. They’re going to get you camera-ready for tonight.”
