Royal Chase(2)

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just needed to blow off some steam before tonight. I’m sure you know how it is.”

She wasn’t the first girl to cry in a bathroom stall on this show, and I was sure she wouldn’t be the last. I fluffed my short, blonde bob with my fingers, and then finished putting on my mascara, keeping an eye on her while she smoothed out invisible wrinkles in her dress. I had only been here for a couple of days, but I was ready to lose my mind with all the drama from the sequestered contestants. I didn’t know how the producers put up with it. I didn’t know how Dante was going to deal with all the madness.

Not that I minded Dante suffering just a little. It was his fault I was here.

“I have to tell someone. I feel like I’m going to burst. I saw the guy. You know, the guy we’re all here for?”

The girl thought that I was one of her competitors. It was too complicated to explain who I was, and telling her might give away Dante’s secret. The secret the producers were trying very, very hard to keep under wraps from the contestants on the show.

“You saw him?” I asked, trying to assess the damage. The show was deliberately keeping Dante away from all the wannabe wives. How had she managed to catch a glimpse?

“Across the courtyard. He was being led into some room with this big entourage. Anyway, I think I recognized him.”

I had been putting on my favorite Tom Ford red lipstick, but her words settled into the pit of my stomach. She washed her hands in the sink next to me. Her reddened eyes looked at my reflection in the giant mirror. Some detached, unfrantic part of my brain noted that our eyes were the same shade of dark brown.

I finished applying my lipstick and tried to sound casual. “Really? From where?”

“I think I saw something online. I don’t remember. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he’s a prince.”

My mouth went dry, and my heart beat quickly. “What makes you say that?”

“I can’t be sure, but I think he’s the brother of that European prince who’s marrying that American girl.”

That American girl was my best friend and former roommate, Kat. And that European prince was Kat’s fiancé, and my current client, Nico. The brother was His Royal Highness, Prince Dante of Monterra.

But no one here was supposed to know that. I didn’t respond, which didn’t seem to matter as she just kept talking.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone else,” she said as she shook her hands and turned off the water. “They are going to die.”

They would die and this whole thing would be over before it ever even started. We were in Southern California filming Marry Me, a reality show where dozens of women vied for the true love of one eligible bachelor—a love that would last forever and ever, or until the show ended and the publicity tour was finished.

And sometimes the pseudo-couple wouldn’t even make it that long.

It was my marketing plan that had started this. I had decided that putting one of the royal brothers on the show would bring tons of attention to Monterra and boost their tourism numbers. Nico had backed out because he had fallen in love with Kat, and Dante had agreed with one very big condition—that I would be his liaison on the show for the entire six weeks of filming. I’d had to postpone all my other plans to focus solely on him. I’d given up a lot to be here, including seeing my fiancé and planning my wedding. I couldn’t let this woman ruin everything I had worked so hard for. Especially since the royal family of Monterra was my only client. I wouldn’t let it all fall apart. I needed to stop her.

“Have you told anyone besides me?”

“A couple of girls. The producers are doing a really good job of keeping us apart.”

My throat felt too tight. A couple of girls? This was worse than I thought. I had to act now. Fortunately, I’d always been quick on my feet. Lipstick in hand, I brushed past her as she dried her hands with a paper towel and managed to get a good streak on her light turquoise evening gown.

“Good heavens, I am so, so sorry,” I said. She stared at me, confused. I tried to look apologetic. “I got lipstick on your dress.”

“What? No, no, no.” She rushed back to the mirror to look at her hip. “Do you know how much this cost?”

“Here, give it to me. I get lipstick on my clothes all the time. I can get it off.”

“You want me to take off my dress?”

I took off my blazer and held it out. “You can put this on. I’ll go get this stain out and bring it right back. No one will ever know.” I turned her around and pulled down her zipper, hoping she wouldn’t stop me. I needed to keep her in this room and away from all the other hopefuls.