"This show is almost over, and I would like us all to make it out in one piece."
I started to protest, but she held up a perfectly manicured hand to stop me.
"The other contestants are expressing anger at the perceived favoritism," Dana said.
"Other contestants?" I fumed. "There are only four of us left. It was Hartleigh, wasn't it?"
Dana glared at me. "Our show is relying on a number of advertisers, and we can't afford a scandal. We need this show to be profitable. People need to be paid. You don't want to be the reason people don't have a paycheck so close to Christmas, do you?"
I shook my head.
She patted my hand. "Just keep concentrating on your Instagram. It's almost Christmas! You're our little Christmas star.TheGreat Christmas Bake-Offfans love you, because you're wholesome. The more adventurous fans can pretend you and Jack are in love, but we can't actually have you two making out on screen. Light flirting is fine, but no more than that. No more bedroom eyes."
Hartleigh was smirking at me when I returned to the apartment. I couldn't stand being in the same room with her, and I didn't trust myself around Jack. I went down to the lobby.
There was a Santa standing outside. He was standing across the wide street, and I threw open the door to confront him. I was so tired of this.
"Leave me alone!" I screamed at him.
The Santa didn't seem fazed to see me. He was wearing sunglasses. Was he the same Santa from the mall? I couldn't tell in the dark. I could swear he smiled at me before he turned and sauntered away.
Eddie came into the lobby.
"Aren't you supposed to be here guarding this place?" I snapped at him.
Eddie was wearing a cleaner-looking Santa suit and smelled as if he'd showered. He pulled out a flask—so he wasn't completely redeemed.
"Sorry, Miss Chloe," he said. "There was a report of two vagrants outside trying to get in by the loading bay. Had to deal with it. They said they knew you."
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," I told him. "If you see those two, I'm not here, and they need to understand that they can't show up at Frost Tower begging for money."
"Understood. There's another package for you," he told me, plopping a box down on the counter.
I was starting to tire of the outfits, though Jack liked them. I took this box upstairs. I didn't want to go back to the apartment. I was still furious at Hartleigh and Dana for assuming I was sleeping with Jack—which I was, so what was I mad about?
I rode the elevator up to the top floor and stuck the package in the trash chute without opening it.
"Sorry, crazy fan," I said. "No Instagram pictures tonight."
I punched in the key code to Jack's penthouse. Jack had given it to me so I could stash the muffin ingredients in his fridge. I didn't want to misuse it, and I hoped he wouldn't mind that I was up here. I also hoped Dana didn't find out.
They wouldn't really kick me off the show, would they?
I crept into Jack’s bedroom. It was late, and I assumed Jack was back from his business meeting. But Milo was asleep, alone, on the bed, so maybe not. The dog's nose twitched—he must have smelled me—then he woke up and wagged his tail.
"Where's Jack?" I whispered to the dog.
The penthouse took up almost the entire top floor, though I hadn't really explored it. I mainly stayed in the kitchen and occasionally in Jack's bedroom.
As I padded through the penthouse, Milo glued to my side, I heard clanging and someone cursing.
He must be up here, I thought and headed toward the light spilling from an open doorway.
"Jack?" I called, my voice sounding uncertain.
"Chloe," he said, standing up from a workbench. We stood there awkwardly, looking at each other.
"How's your hand?" he asked.
