The fight between the two contestants seemed to be one of those things that got funny after the fact. Because it wasn’t until the next day, when it was just Jean-Luc and me, hanging around my hotel room, drinking beer and shooting the shit, that we realized exactly how ridiculous the whole event had been.

“And when she pulled out that other girl’s extensions?!” Jean-Luc was saying, his French accent even thicker now that he was a little drunk. “That was unreal.”

It had been unreal. The whole thing had been a blur of water and hair-pulling and screaming. The only thing that had come into focus was when Paige had been pushed into the pool. Then, everything seemed to slow down as I watched her sink to the bottom. I hadn’t even hesitated to jump in after her.

“These girls are cutthroat,” Jean-Luc told me.

“You have no idea,” I answered, thinking about all the manipulations I was seeing—from both the contestants and the crew. Everyone had an agenda. And all the agendas were different. “Formula One racers have nothing on these girls.”

“I bet McMasters and the rest of them would wet their pants if they had to face this batch of love-starved females,” Jean-Luc laughed. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be facing off against them.” He tapped his beer bottle against mine. “Good luck,” he said. “Because you’re sure as hell going to need it.”

I groaned, and Jean-Luc snorted, taking way too much enjoyment in my pain. He took off for his suite, where I knew he was packing for his return trip to France. It had been nice having him visit, but it had only made me long for my life before this whole reality dating show mess. Before all of the messes that had led me here in the first place.

Pulling out my phone, I called Grant, the private investigator I’d hired to track down my former manager—now current international felon. Grant picked up on the first ring.

“Any luck?” I asked him.

“Not a trace of him, boss,” he told me.

I wanted to hit my head against the coffee table.

“I’ve got my best guys on it,” Grant told me. “We’ll find him.”

I hung up, not feeling any better about the situation then from the first moment I’d realized that my manager had embezzled all of my money and taken off for parts unknown. The last time anyone had seen him was when he was in Bermuda, but that was months ago. I knew everyone was doing their best, but I couldn’t help feeling like all of this was pointless. He was long gone: sunning himself on a beach with my retirement fund.

At least this show would be paying me enough to keep the search going and pay off the mortgage on my parents’ house. I’d wanted to buy it for them outright with my first big winnings check, as a thank you for all their support, but Paul had convinced me that a mortgage was better in the long run. I now knew he was just keeping as much of my earnings in liquid cash as possible—for him to make a quick escape.

I hadn’t told my parents about the money going missing. The last thing I wanted was for them to worry. They had spent my entire childhood doing everything in their power to make my dreams of becoming a Formula One racer come true—buying them a house was the least I could do to pay them back. If they knew about my financial troubles, I knew they’d insist on giving me everything they had. I didn’t want a gift to become a burden. Which is why I hadn’t told them the real reason I had agreed to do Ever After. They still thought I actually believed I was going to find true love—instead of just an easy paycheck.

Plus, the distraction helped. Ever since I announced my retirement from the race track, people had been asking me what was coming next. I laughed it off, joking about enjoying myself and relaxing in style, but the truth was, I didn’t have a damn clue what I was going to do. All my life had been working towards a singular goal. Racing. And once I saw the true cost of the sport and walked away, I was left with an empty space where that passion used to be.

There was a knock at the door. Thinking it was Jean-Luc, I opened it without looking through the peephole. It definitely was not Jean-Luc.

“Hey there,” Kimmie practically purred at me.

She was dressed in a trench coat and heels. It wasn’t hard to imagine what she was doing here. Without waiting for me to invite her in, she sauntered past, swinging her hips. She was gorgeous, no doubt about it, but whenever I looked at her—whenever I looked at any of the girls—I found my attention returning to that shitty motel room in Pittsburgh and a certain redhead who had been damn close to blowing my mind. And possibly other parts of my body as well.

Kimmie had made herself at home on my hotel bed, crossing her legs so I could see the hint of some black lingerie beneath the trench coat.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here,” I told her, standing at the foot of the bed.

I had left the door open purposefully. I should have been interested in Kimmie, but I wasn’t. Besides my pre-existing attraction to a certain saucy PA, there was something about Kimmie that turned me off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was enough to keep me from putting my fingers on her.

She didn’t seem to get the hint, stroking the hotel bed like it was something else, her long red nails looking a little too sharp for my tastes.

“Come a little closer.” She gave me a sultry look.

“I’m fine over here,” I told her, crossing my arms.

She pouted and rose from the bed. Coming over, she got really close, pressing her body against mine. It was a gorgeous body, but my hands stayed off of it.

“I was really hoping we could spend some time . . .” Kimmie danced her fingers up my chest, dragging one finger across my jawline. “Getting to know each other. If you know what I mean.”

A blind, deaf, and dumb man would have known what she meant. I stepped back.

“I think that’s against the rules,” I reminded her.

“And I think that rules were meant to be broken.” She came towards me again, her red lips pursed.

“Kimmie!” A voice came from the doorway, causing us both to spin around.

To my immense relief, it was Andrea standing there. She had her hands on her hips and an annoyed expression on her face.

“You know this is off-limits,” she told Kimmie, who pouted once again. “I need a PA to come to the suitor’s suite,” she said into her ever-present headset before turning back to us. “This is against the rules.”

“I was just telling her that,” I tried to say, but Andrea gave me a look that clearly stated that she thought I had encouraged this.

A PA appeared in the doorway to escort Kimmie back to set. Before she left, the raven-haired beauty wiggled her red tipped fingers at me and blew me a kiss. I did my best not to react.

“See you tonight, handsome,” she said with a wink.

As soon as she was gone, Andrea turned to me. I braced myself, fully expecting to get read the riot act. It didn’t happen. Not even close.

“I understand that this set-up is difficult,” Andrea told me. “But we have rules.”

“I completely understand,” I said quickly. “Trust me, I did not invite Kimmie here. I was trying to convince her to leave when you showed up.”

Andrea waved her hand, again indicating that she didn’t believe me. That annoyed me. Sure, I was a player, but I didn’t just go for any girl that showed up at my hotel room in a trench coat. And being a former Formula One driver, it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Strangely enough, it was always the same trench coat. Maybe they sold them in bulk at “Seductions R Us,” where all these women shopped.

“All I ask is that you make sure to keep your interactions with the girls on camera.”

“OK, I— Wait. What?” I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly. I hoped I hadn’t heard her correctly.

“You can do whatever you want with them,” Andrea assured me in a way that didn’t assure me at all. “Just do it in front of the camera. OK?”

I stared at her for a moment. “OK,” I finally said.

She patted me on the shoulder. “Great.” She smiled at me. “That’s exactly what I want to hear. You’re doing a great job,” she said.

“Uh, thanks,” I managed.

“That stuff last night in the hot tub was great.” She sounded way too excited about it.

I didn’t want to ask what part was great—the part where one of the girls had yanked out her opponent’s hair, or the part where one of them had drawn blood. I really didn’t want to know the answer.

Andrea was still talking. ““We’ve already cut some trailers, and the buzz around the premiere is huge on social media. The first episode airs tomorrow. The more drama we can get, the better your ratings will be. And there might even be a bonus for you at the end of the season,” she encouraged. “And I know that Patrick is already thinking about an engagement and wedding show if it all works out.”

I didn’t like the way she was planning my life in such a cavalier fashion. As if I was really doing all this for ratings. I don’t know what was more disturbing, her thinking that I was doing this to actually find love, or doing it for the fame.

Not like doing all this for money sounded all that much better.

Andrea gave me another pat on the arm. I knew I couldn’t trust her. So I smiled. A big, fake, crowd-pleasing smile. And she smiled back at me. Both of us lying.

“We’re really pleased you’re doing the show,” she said. “Keep up the good work.”

I sat down on my bed when she left, choosing to sit on the other side, away from where Kimmie had planted herself. This whole thing seemed totally insane, and seemed to get more insane with each passing day.

Letting out a breath, I tried to relax. But all I could think about was the one person on this set that I couldn’t have. Paige, who seemed completely focused on ignoring me at each turn. She was the one I wanted, not any of the other beautiful women that were here specifically to capture my attention. Attention that had already been completely captured by someone else. A smart, sharp, beautiful redhead, who did everything she could to keep a camera and crew between us.

I smiled to myself. Why was I letting that stop me? I could tell, as much as she was keeping her distance, she wanted me, too. It was there in the way she looked at me—and blushed whenever I caught her eye.

I hadn’t lied in my interviews: I always came in first. So maybe it was time I started playing to win—Paige.