I’m in the middle of a fairy tale, surrounded by froufrou ball gowns and desperate princesses.

Mershano Suites was known for its opulence, but the New Orleans location took the standard to a new level. The property spanned a block of prime real estate on the Mississippi waterfront. It was the original hotel and headquarters for the Mershano empire. Gold, purple, and green were the decor colors of choice, which was appropriate considering the location. Plush sofas, antique tables, and vases filled with fresh floral arrangements decorated the reception area. Original oil paintings hung from the violet walls throughout the hotel, and chandeliers lit the lobby from three stories above. Gorgeous with a touch of wealth and grandeur.

The contestants were standing in line on the second floor, waiting to descend the grand staircase and meet The Prince. I was number twenty-three in line.

“So, what do you do?” Paul told us to ignore the cameras and socialize. He said it was a way for the audience to get to know our personalities. So far, all I knew about the women in front of me were their names, Amber and Bianca.

“I’m a kindergarten teacher.” Amber’s southern twang was nothing like my midwestern accent. Her light blue dress and blonde ringlets were very Cinderella, while my lush red dress was more seductress with the deep neckline and slit up my left thigh. I liked the way it hugged my curves. It made me feel elegant yet feminine. Not a bad first outfit pick by the producers.

“Yeah, I thought about doing that but decided the whole kids thing wasn’t for me.” Bianca fixed the neckline of her forest green dress. It dipped to her belly button and was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. Good thing we’re not on live television.

“What about having kids of your own?” Amber played the southern belle role well, but there was a cunning gleam in her blue eyes that made me wary.

Bianca shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. Not really my thing, ya know?”

Amber pursed her lips, disapproval stark in her blue gaze. “Girl, Evan’s going to want kids. Why else would a thirty-five-year-old man want to settle down?”

“Because he’s thirty-five?” Bianca made him sound ancient. That explained the nose scrunch earlier when I mentioned my age. Thirty-one wasn’t too far off from thirty-five.

“Bianca Stone.” Joseph, one of the show’s hosts, stood at the top of the stairs with an expectant smile. His shock of white hair was combed over in a style common for a man his age. I overheard one of the girls say he was a famous producer, and that was how he landed the role. Our other host was a redhead named Carrie. Amber told me the woman won a beauty pageant last year. I gathered from her tone that she wasn’t thrilled by her presence.

“Toodles, ladies.” Bianca gathered her brown hair over one shoulder, gave us a wave, and sauntered over to take the host’s arm.

“She won’t last long,” Amber murmured before flashing me a smile that was a touch too sweet. “So, how do you feel about kids?”

I knew better than to respond the way the brunette did. “I want them, but only when the time is right.” Which won’t be anytime soon. Creating a family required me to find a husband who respected my goals and didn’t mind my work life. That wasn’t an easy feat. “How about you, Amber?”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to be a mom. It’s my dream.” A starry-eyed look came over her that I didn’t believe for a second. She flashed the camera a shy smile. “Hopefully that’s with Evan.”

I suppressed a snort. It was the first night, and the girl was talking about her future children with the prince she hadn’t met yet. What reality is this?

“Amber Darlington.” Our host in the three-piece suit was back and wearing his trademark grin.

“I’d tell you to wish me luck, but I don’t need it.” She gave me a wink and waltzed off to meet her future baby daddy.

You have fun with that, dear.

I tapped my fingers against the balcony railing. I couldn’t see what was going on downstairs due to the way the stairs curved toward the bottom. The crew positioned us this way on purpose. They didn’t want anyone getting a glimpse of the Prince of New Orleans before their grand introduction. I researched his nickname over the weekend and learned the Mershano family was famous in The Big Easy for their financial contributions to the city’s infrastructure and their generosity in giving back to the community. Evan was the oldest child and viewed as the heir to the Mershano empire, giving him the prince pseudonym. His sister, Mia, was referred to as the princess, and his younger brother, Wyatt, was the rebel.

I didn’t read a lot about his family but instead focused on Evan’s ascension to the Mershano Suites CEO throne. The company’s success took a dip three years ago when he took over the family business. Regime changes often yielded uncertainties in the market, so it wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was how fast he was able to turn things around. The stocks were on a steady incline, and the company was expanding all over the world. A hint of admiration crept into my heart after reading some of his business articles. The man knew what he was doing.

“Sarah Summers.” Joseph was back on the landing, his smile ready. Time to see those wicked, dark eyes again. I took a deep, steadying breath and walked over to greet the host. “You look lovely, darling.”

“Thank you.” I’m sure you’ve said that to everyone tonight. Twenty-two women had already gone before me. The girls who went ahead of me were in the lounge, awaiting phase two of the evening. I hoped it involved alcohol.

Joseph locked his arm with mine to start our descent. Evan stood waiting in the lobby with his hands clasped behind his back. His chocolate locks fell in a stylish wave over his forehead, and the five o’clock shadow was gone, revealing a strong jaw and high cheekbones. The rugged style from last week was sexier, but tonight’s handsome look was more appropriate. It suited the black tuxedo he was sporting, which was no doubt a handmade Italian import. A stunning redhead in a black gown stood behind him with a smile plastered on her pretty face. Carrie, the beauty pageant hostess.

“Evan, may I present Sarah Summers from Chicago, Illinois.” The host gave my hand a squeeze and backed up to stand beside Carrie.

There was no wicked gleam in Evan’s gaze tonight, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Everything seemed forced and brittle, including the hug he gave me. It lacked heat and comfort and ended with an awkward pat on my back. I imagined this situation made him uncomfortable, but I missed the easy candor of a few days ago.

“Miss Summers. A pleasure.” So formal and cold. That wasn’t working for me. I wanted the playful man from last week.

“Minus the hug, this feels like a job interview, Mister Mershano. Would you like a copy of my résumé? I hear it’s impressive.” Sarcasm was my go-to in uncomfortable situations.

“Is it?” He smirked and gave me a once-over. “Well then, if we were to go on a date, what would be your top three strengths?”

“That’s a very original question, Mister Mershano.” I paused to consider. “Well, I guess it would be my wit, sarcasm, and my breasts.” He was a man, after all, and his gaze had dropped to my neckline twice so far. I didn’t mind him noticing; they were two of my more impressive assets. “Now, I’ve always believed an interview works both ways. So tell me, what makes a date with you better than other men?”

The way his eyebrows hit his hairline told me he wasn’t expecting me to turn the tables on him. Carrie’s and Joseph’s alarmed expressions said they weren’t anticipating it either. Good. I wasn’t here to be predictable. A glimmer of respect flared in his pupils as he took measure of me. He paused on my breasts and grinned at the knowing look I gave him. Not an ounce of shame. If we were in a bar, I’d buy him a drink for that alone.

“If I’m honest, I haven’t compared my strategies to other men; however, I can give you insight into my dating style. Would that suffice?”

“I would accept it as a response.” My tone was steady despite my escalating pulse. The look in his eyes unnerved me. It was part devious, part knowing, and overloaded with confidence. Something told me I’d met my match when it came to witty banter.

“I prefer creative dates that involve intellectual conversation and subtle seduction.” He stepped into my personal space, making me look way up to meet his gaze. “And as for my strengths, I’m a skilled conversationalist, enjoy healthy banter, and I’m told I have a fantastic ass.”

I swallowed. Holy shit. Why was this guy on a dating show? He had more than enough game to land a wife without the help of RNW. Intelligent, rich, gorgeous, and heir to a billion-dollar fortune. Where were all the flaws? “Yeah, I’m out of questions.” It was a rare occurrence for my cleverness to falter. Who the hell is this guy?

Sinful amusement teased the corners of his mouth. “Are we concluding the interview, then, Miss Summers?”

“I believe we are, Mister Mershano. Do we shake hands or hug again?”

“Oh, I think we definitely hug again.” A scent of pine mixed with peppermint teased my nose as he pulled me into his arms. The brittleness was gone, and there was no pat on the back this time. He held me against him, giving me a chance to feel all the hard, hot muscle beneath his clothes. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His woodsy cologne was also tinged with leather, making me want to breathe deeply through my nose. Not going to happen.

I forced myself to step back and gave him a tight smile. If we were anywhere else, I’d give in to the desire to get to know him better. But not tonight. “A pleasure, Mister Mershano.”

His gaze narrowed at my use of his earlier phrase. “Likewise, Miss Summers.”

Carrie guided me to the next phase—an interview about my first impression of Evan and my game plan for the evening. I read the cue cards verbatim. He was “dreamy,” and I could “definitely see myself falling in love with him.” Sexy was a more apt description, and I could see myself falling in bed with him, but not in love with him.

I played along and moved into the lounge with the rest of the contestants. Violet sofas and black chairs littered the room, and a full bar sat open in the corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the back wall, leading to a balcony overlooking the Mississippi River. The evening hour painted the water in moonlight, an eerie sight that set my blood on fire.

Marketing was my undergraduate degree, but I had a minor in art. Creativity ran in the Summer genes. Abby was the painter, and I was the photographer. Our mother was the romantic visionary. She couldn’t draw to save her life, but she could tell a story that would melt every heart in a room. My dad was a financial planner and also the one I inherited my business skills from despite being taken from me at an early age. I missed him every day.

“Wine?” The waiter knew my favorite drink. How wonderful.

“Yes, please.” I took a glass of the white and found a seat near the back of the room. I chose a table with bad lighting to better see outside. City colors decorated the night sky, giving the sky an alluring orange-black hue. Gorgeous.

Joseph and Carrie made a grand entrance a half hour later with Paul and his crew of minions right behind them. Cue cards flashed, telling the contestants to be quiet and gather around the hosts. We moved to the center of the well-lit room to await further instruction. Bianca stood beside me, radiating tension. Amber picked at some invisible lint from her dress, ignoring the death glare she was receiving. Uh, okay. Catfight, anyone?

“Ladies, Evan will be arriving in just a few minutes.” Clapping and high-pitched shrieks broke out at Joseph’s words, making me cringe. The man was hot, but come on. “He had to go pick up a few guests.”

“Yes, some members of Evan’s family are joining us.” Carrie’s voice had a high quality to it, reminding me of a bell. “I suggest saying hi and making them feel welcome. You never know what they might say to our prince.” Murmurs of who might be here flooded the room while the hosts went back to the door and waited. I picked up a new glass of wine and went back to my seat by the windows.

“Are you all ready?” Joseph’s deep voice carried through the oval-shaped room. “Evan’s outside. The future Princess of New Orleans is in this room somewhere, and he’s anxious to come inside and get to know her better. Let’s make him feel welcome.” Excited squeals broke through the air, making the hair on my arms stand on end. This was not my scene.

The girls rushed Evan as he entered, forcing him to take a step back. His bemused expression made me grin into my wine glass. His life was surreal. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through his head. Thirty girls are trying to seduce me. How many can I take to bed with me tonight? Wasn’t this a man’s dream come true? The start of a good porn film?

The cameras followed the mob into the room, and I laughed as Evan was dragged down onto the couch by four of the women. One of them was Amber, and she wasted no time in putting a hand on him. He had a helpless expression on his face that made me feel sorry for him. Poor guy was living every male fantasy come to life at once and had no idea how to handle it.

When a curvy brunette walked over a few minutes later and grabbed his hand, he followed her outside to a secluded seating area out of view. A hoard of women went to the windows to watch, while I admired the water again. No way was I getting involved in any of that shit.

“Mind if I sit down?”