The last thing I wanted to do was leave Dash’s room. But I knew that if Lorna found my bed empty, she’d have questions, and I was not ready to answer any of them. So, even though it nearly killed me to leave the warmth of Dash’s arms, I did a quick walk of shame across the empty lobby and up to my room.

But when I opened the door, my red stilettos dangling from my fingertips, Lorna was sitting on my bed, her arms crossed. Shit. I was busted.

“Where have you been?” Lorna demanded, doing a double take when she took in my current state of dishevelment. No doubt my hair looked as if I had been having sex all night. Which was exactly what I had been doing. “No, wait, I don’t care where you’ve been,” she said. “I want to know what you were doing and who you were doing it with.”

“I, uh . . .” I knew I needed to lie. I knew I needed to come up with the name of some random guy on the sound crew or the camera crew, but my brain had been addled by hours of amazing sex and I couldn’t think—or stand—straight.

Lorna’s eyes went wide.

“You didn’t!” she gasped. “You slept with the suitor?”

This time it was my eyes that went wide. How could she have guessed so quickly?

“I thought it was all just rumors,” she said.

Shit. There had been rumors? None of this was good.

“You can’t tell anyone.” I sat down on the bed next to her and took her hands. “Please, please, please.”

She gave me a look. “You know this is bad, right?”

“I know.” I flopped back on the bed. “He’s the last person I should be hooking up with.”

“Hooking up with?” Lorna asked, sounding shocked. “As in, this has been going on for a while?”

I nodded.

“Oh my god.” She flopped down next to me. “How long has this been going on for?”

“Well, technically it started before the show did,” I told her, and went on to impart all the details of how we had met on the airplane back from London, ended up sharing a car and then getting stuck in Pittsburgh together. Her eyes grew wider and wider with each part of the story.

“I can’t believe it,” she said when I was finally done.

“You won’t say anything, will you?” I asked, quietly.

“Of course not,” Lorna said immediately. “I would never do that.”

I let out a breath as Lorna shifted on her side to face me. Her expression was serious.

“But you have to understand how risky this is,” she told me. “There is so much riding on this show. Not just your job, but millions of dollars in ads and sponsorships and ratings. If people find out that this is all fake—that Dash isn’t really interested in any of the contestants AND that he’s been sleeping with a member of the crew on the side—well, it could be really bad for the show and for him. And you.”

“I know,” I replied. “I never intended for any of this to happen, but—” I bit my lip, unsure of how much to say. “But I think this is something real.” The minute I said it out loud, I knew it was true.

Lorna stared at me. “Wow,” she finally said.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “Wow.”

I was falling for Dash and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

I was fucked.

In more ways than one.

* * *

When we got to the set Monday morning, everyone was acting weird. I was immediately on guard, thinking that somehow it had gotten out that Dash and I were sleeping together. But as I entered the mansion, it became clear why everyone was running around without making eye contact. You could hear Patrick yelling from the other end of the building.

“What the fuck are you and your team doing?” Patrick screamed. “Our ratings are shit, and you can’t even manage to wring a drop of drama out of any one? What the fuck did I hire you for, if it wasn’t to create drama?”

“We’re working on it.” I heard Andrea’s voice, low and steady. “There’s always a slight drop-off in ratings after the premiere.”

“A slight drop-off?” Patrick yelled. “You call this a slight drop-off? Are you fucking insane?”

I would have burst into tears if Patrick—or anyone—yelled at me like that, but Andrea sounded like she was standing her ground. Just another reason to admire the woman.

“There’s no fucking chemistry!” Patrick was still ranting. “My dick and a cactus have better chemistry than our suitor and contestants. We need excitement. Romance. Sex.”

“We’ll fix that,” Andrea responded. “We have some very sexy one-on-one dates lined up.”

“I fucking hope so,” Patrick snarled. “Because if this show doesn’t heat up, then we’ll all be out of a job by the end of it.”

Without thinking, I hurried to find Dash. He was getting fitted for his wardrobe when I found him, and I begged a few moments of privacy from the costume guy. The minute we were alone, Dash gave me that sexy, wicked smile of his and reached for me, but I stepped aside.

“You know we can’t do that here,” I told him.

His smile dropped, but he nodded. “I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop wanting to.”

My heart gave a little squeeze. Fuck. This was bad. This was really bad.

“I need you to flirt with the girls,” I told him, ignoring how sick those words made me feel.

Dash blinked at me. “What?”

“I need you to flirt with the contestants,” I repeated.

“I heard you,” he said. “I just can’t understand why you would tell me to do that.”

“Because we need the ratings.” I tried to keep my voice calm and steady even though I wanted to scream. This whole thing was ridiculous. But maybe seeing Dash flirt with girls like Savannah and Jasmine would remind me that this was just something casual. Something that was going to end when the show ended. Because falling for Dash was not part of the plan.

“Ratings.” Dash’s response was flat. “And how far do you want me to go?” he asked. “For the ‘ratings.’ ” I could hear the scorn and disgust in his voice. It made me mad.

“Look,” I reminded him. “You need those ratings as much as I do,” I said. “This whole thing is a job, and part of your job is to flirt with the contestants. So do that.”

His face softened a little, and he reached out and pushed back some hair from my face.

“This sucks, doesn’t it?” he asked.

There was a lump in my throat, but I managed to nod without crying.

“I have to go,” I told him. “But remember what I said.”

He let out a sigh, but nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

* * *

It turned out that what Dash could do was flirt his fucking ass off. Not that I should have been surprised. He could flirt as easily as breathing. And even though I knew he was doing it because I had asked him to, I still didn’t feel any less gross about the whole thing.

The worst part about it was that I had to watch. Today, they were filming a group date, taking dancing lessons to prepare for the swanky charity gala they’d all be attending later that week. So, I had to watch him dance with each of the five remaining girls. I had to watch as he cozied up to Savannah, the two of them dancing really, really close. Dash had his hand on Savannah’s lower back, the two of them swaying to the music, looking as if they were alone in their own world, instead of being blasted by hot lights and shot from all angles by a variety of cameras. I’d never danced with Dash, but it was clear he had the moves. Savannah kept laughing at something he said, her head falling back and letting her blonde curls cascade over her shoulder. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. Not that Dash seemed to be having that problem. The looks they were exchanging were so scorching that half of the women on the crew were fanning themselves off-camera.

I felt hot, but it wasn’t for the same reasons. I felt hot because I was jealous. Because Savannah and Dash looked like they belonged together—the sweet, blonde, Southern belle and the tall, dark, and handsome athlete. It was a match made in heaven. Reality dating show heaven. At least that’s what I told myself. Because looking at the way Dash leaned in and whispered in Savannah’s ear, it didn’t seem like he was faking anything.

Andrea called cut, and I expected Dash to immediately step away from Savannah to get ready for his next partner, but instead, he kept his hand on her lower back, the two of them still close to each other. It wasn’t until Kimmie came over and tapped Savannah on the shoulder that the two of them stepped away from each other. Kimmie gave the other girl a sickly sweet smile, and immediately looped her arm through Dash’s. He grinned down at her.

If Savannah minded, there was no indication on her face as she stepped off camera and came to join me and the rest of the contestants. She was practically beaming, her hand pressed over her heart.

“Lordy,” she sighed. “That man is nearly too much to handle.”

“You looked great out there,” I told her, the words tasting bitter.

“Thanks, honey.” She turned her smile towards me, and I felt guilty for the unkind thoughts I was having about her. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”

I didn’t have a chance to answer, because Andrea came into the tent, her own expression just as happy as Savannah’s.

“That was fantastic,” she told Savannah. “Now, let’s get you changed for the elimination ceremony.”

The girls who had already done their dancing date were hustled off, leaving just me and Andrea. She let out a breath.

“Thank god for this week,” she said, watching the screens set up in the corner. Dash and Kimmie were still dancing, and it was clear that Kimmie was doing everything in her power to press her body up against Dash’s. He didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight. “I was worried we weren’t going to get any action this season,” Andrea continued. “And I am so glad to be wrong.”

An hour later, I watched Dash choose Jasmine, Savannah, and Kimmie to accompany him to the big gala event in honor of one of the charities Dash was involved in—a children’s cancer research hospital. Jealousy gnawed at me, but I tried to ignore it. Unfortunately, the crew made that nearly impossible as everyone around me kept gushing about how the whole thing was going to be a perfect fairy-tale date, complete with three Cinderellas.

Sometimes it really sucked to be the ugly stepsister.