Carter flushed. She knew that Louis and Ranielle were married, but it was easy to forget. He seemed so easygoing, so cheerful, so warm, and she . . . didn’t. But maybe there was some truth to that wholeopposites attractthing.
“I mean . . . if you’re sure she won’t mind . . .” She reached for the phone in her pocket, hands shaking. Kick It Carter would never waste such an opportunity. An exclusive with the Game Master himself. She pictured her avatar jumping gleefully.
Fitzy’s phone vibrated. He checked it, his face falling. “Vera needs me to film some reels.”
“What?” said Carter. “Now?”
“I’d prefer to stay. But rule number one around here is—don’t piss off Ranielle. Rule number two is don’t piss off Vera.” His expression softened. “You’ve got this, Kick It Carter.” He slipped out the door, throwing her an encouraging thumbs-up on the way.
Carter turned back to Louis. He leaned against the desk, smiling patiently.
Suddenly, every question she’d ever had vanished.
“How did you like the room?” he said after the silence stretched on too long.
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
“The escape room,” he prompted.
“It was great,” she said, too quickly. She’d literally forgotten everything that had happened in the round.
Louis seemed to notice her panic. “I’m sure today’s been a lot, and I know I can be intimidating when people first meet me, but I swear I’m just a guy who loves puzzles.” He chuckled and adjusted his newsboy cap, then gestured at the mini fridge in the corner. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Something to do with her hands, something to concentrate on. A moment to gather her thoughts. “Yes. Sure. Thank you.”
But then the dressing room door opened and a woman in a bloodred suit walked in. Her expression was as severe as her slick black hair.
Ranielle Russell, executive producer. And Louis’s wife.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” she snapped to Carter.
“Um—”
“Relax, love, she was just going to interview me for the Domain.”
Ranielle’s glare toward Carter hardened. “All interviews with the crew and cast need to be preapproved. Or did you not read the contract?”
“N-No, I did. I’m sorry. I forgot. I was—”
“The bus for the villas is leaving, so I suggest you get moving, unless you want to sleep on set tonight.” Ranielle stepped sharply aside, gesturing toward the door. Carter couldn’t lift her burning face to look back at Louis.
“Sorry,” she whispered again as she slunk past the executive producer.
“Bye,” Louis called out behind her. “Maybe next time?”
Ranielle snapped the door shut and led Carter down the corridor, stilettos loud even on the carpet. “The Game Master is exceptionally busy. He doesn’t have time to chat with contestants.”
“Okay.” Carter would’ve liked nothing more than to take the first flight home and disappear under her comforter forever.
“We also maintain a strict media policy. If news outlets thought any teenager with a phone could interview the Game Master, they wouldn’t exactly be tripping over themselves to book him, would they?”
“I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I highly doubt you were thinking at all,” said Ranielle. “I don’t want to see you talking to him again. Do you understand?”
When Ranielle glanced back, Carter swallowed the lump in her throat. “Of course. It won’t happen again.”
10
