Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“Anika,” a familiar voice says. “For some reason the king wants to shoot some one-on-one time with you. I don’t suppose I can convince you to brush your hair.”
Patrick. The bane of my existence. Or is that Luca? What happens when there are multiple banes? I get to my feet, ignoring the grass stains on my sweats. I got them from playing the game instead of giggling inanely while pretending not to know what to do with the ball.
It’s not fair. The other women are doing exactly what they should do. I’m being the bitch here, but I can’t stop thinking about what Luca said the night before.
He doesn’t believe in love and even if he did, what am I supposed to do? Give up everything I have to become the queen of a postage-stamp country in Europe? I’m not royalty. I have a career I love. A career I can lose because Luca wants me to be his safety choice.
I’m a bit bitter, and I hate the fact that now I wish I’d been more careful with my appearance because he looks like a Greek god over there and I’m about to sit beside him.
“My hair is fine,” I grouse as I get to my feet.
“It’s on the messy side.” Ashley F follows me, pulling a small comb out of her back pocket. Before I can stop her, she’s smoothing my hair back.
“And you could use some blush.”
I don’t know where Ashley W kept that blush compact in those skin-tight, tiny shorts of hers, but she’s brushing it on my cheeks in no time.
Both Ashleys step back, eying me critically.
“She’ll do,” Ashley F says.
“She has to, but I’m going to tie her to a makeup chair tomorrow before filming,” Ashley W vows. “And we have to do something with all that hair. It’s gorgeous. It’s a crime to keep it up like that. It should be blowing in the wind so you can look like the sun goddess you are.”
“And then it would have whipped right into Shelby’s face,” Ashley F says with a firm nod. Then she smiles. “Oh, I take it back. That’s what she deserves. She just tried to go in for a kiss and the king denied her. Wow. That’s embarrassing.”
I look over and Luca’s got big, sympathetic eyes going as he explains something to Shelby. Shelby’s lips purse and she nods, but when she’s helped up, her eyes roll. She’s flushed a deep red as she stomps away. The woman wore platform heels to play football. It’s ridiculous. Even more ridiculous is how fast she is in those suckers. Like if the zombie apocalypse comes, Shelby’s good. Even if she’s in a designer dress at a cocktail party, she’ll zip right out of there.
Oh, if the zombie apocalypse happens right now, I might not have to go and sit with Luca and pretend to fawn all over him.
See, everything has a silver lining.
“Those girls are being kind to you,” Patrick says as he marches me across the verdant battlefield. “You could at least try.”
“I don’t want to be here. I want to be working,” I say under my breath.
“Well, strap in, Fox, because I’ve seen how people on the web reacted to you. I have no idea why because you seem boring as hell to me, but they love you. There’s zero way the producers are letting you go. You’re getting the hero edit, but you’re going to make it hard on everyone, aren’t you? If they can’t make you look good from the way you act…”
I know where he’s going. “They’ll do it by making the rest of them look bad.”
Patrick nods. “Some of them won’t care. Shelby’s already determined she’s going for the villain edit. I don’t think Katy will give a crap. But it’ll bother Hannah when they make her look dumb.”
And they could. Even if she isn’t. It’s all about the edit on a show like this. I’m screwing things up for everyone else, and I don’t mean to. All I want is to go home and pretend like I haven’t caught big old feelings for the gorgeous, smart, funny, can’t-ever-love-me king.
“Okay.” I can’t argue with him about it. “I’ll try harder tomorrow. I promise. I don’t suppose you could let me have my phone for a couple of minutes. I need to ask my friends to grab some things for me.”
“Hey, kiddo.” Tonya waves my way as we pass the craft services table. “Don’t tell anyone but there’s a container of your mom’s meatballs in the cooler for you. I’ll slide it your way before you head out. Patrick, don’t give me that look. I can cut you off.”
“Like I care,” he calls out, not looking back. He keeps moving. “You better not forget those meatballs. Sneak them in, and don’t let anyone see you. I do care. That table is my only source of nutrition, and your freaking moms make these individual chicken pot pies that I’m obsessed with. I do not want to know how many calories are in them.”