"Kidding, Jack," Gunnar said.
The elevator dinged, and a familiar blonde walked out—Chloe. Her eyes narrowed at Hartleigh as my childhood stalker blew me another kiss.
"Dana said you needed more decoration down here," Chloe said, looking around at the space. "But I don't think we have enough."
"We should buy more," Gunnar said. I looked at Gunnar. He looked at me. I frowned then sighed and handed Chloe a credit card.
"Oooh!" she said, taking it in her hand. "It's heavy."
I looked at her, and she blushed. "I mean it’s a very thick credit card."
"It's American Express Black," I said. "They make them special."
"Will it even fit?"
Gunnar was silently laughing.
"I mean in the card reader," she clarified, her face almost as red as her holiday sweater.
"Go shopping!" Gunnar said, spreading his arms. "We need to fill this place with Christmas cheer."
"I'll make it look like a winter wonderland," she said, smiling up at me.
3
Chloe
Ihadn't had time to shop the day before, but Zane had said they weren't releasing the first episode for about another week, so there was still time to decorate the lobby and produce the establishing shots.
We had had orientation the previous day, which went late and barely left any time to learn more about the other contestants.
Now it was early the next morning, too early, and I was on set for the first day of the bake-off filming.
As I took my place at my station, Nina, another contestant and my roommate, said, "I'm so nervous."
"Me too," I told her, inspecting the long worktable that would be my kitchen home for the next five weeks.
"I'm not," Hartleigh announced. She was at the workstation on my other side. "Jack and I go way back, and I know he's going to give me the best score." She tossed her hair, or she tried to at least. Hartleigh had straw-like hair that looked like it had been blow-dried, colored, and straightened within an inch of its life. I itched to give her a honey leave-in conditioner treatment.
I also wanted to redo her makeup. It looked caked on and gave her skin a chalky texture. The production didn't have the budget for makeup artists, so we contestants were on our own. I checked my makeup in the compact mirror I had put in my apron. I looked okay, if a little tired.
A pretty, willowy young woman practically waltzed over to me. Her makeup and hair were stunning.
"You're Anastasia from the blog Whimsical Dining!" Nina exclaimed. Anastasia air kissed us.
"I love you!" I gushed. "I wish I could travel all over and eat at Michelin-star restaurants. Your blog is amazing!"
Anastasia did a proper hair toss, her chestnut locks cascading down her back. My curls and I had come to an uneasy truce, but they would never look like Anastasia's hair.
"You're so sweet," she said. "And I just adore you! I love your Instagram feed—you're so cute!"
"Are you judging the bake-off?" Nina asked.
"I'm hosting," Anastasia replied.
Before we could ask Anastasia any more questions, Dana walked into the room, followed by the three judges. She motioned to Anastasia, and the camera crews moved into position.
As Dana, Anastasia, and the judges talked in low whispers, I studied the judges. More importantly, I studied Jack. He looked amazing in a deep navy-blue suit with a very subtle pattern. The billionaire seemed irritated that he had to be here. His mouth was a cold line, and a frown interrupted his smooth features.
