“Well?” Aidan and Darius pounced on Craig as soon he opened the front door to the Suitors’ Mansion.
“What did you do?” Aidan asked. “How was it?”
“Why are you so late getting back?” Darius demanded.
More of the remaining sixteen guys seemed to come out of the woodwork, popping out of nearby rooms and hallways to study him for any trace of how his date with Marcy had gone.
Craig plastered on his cockiest grin for the benefit of his audience and held out his hands. “Guys, please, a gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“She wouldn’t have kissed you,” Daniel declared, arms folded in the kitchen doorway. “I’m surprised she didn’t see through your bullshit and send you home.”
Craig ignored the second half of that—at the moment he was a little surprised too, like he was getting away with something. “You sure she wouldn’t kiss me?” he challenged, still grinning.
“Fuck,” John from Baltimore groaned, “I haven’t even held her hand yet.”
“Neither has he,” Daniel insisted. “He’s messing with us.”
“Am I?” Craig asked. “We’re all dating her. Dating. You have to expect anyone who’s been alone with her has laid one on her at least once.”
“Some of us respect her,” Daniel snapped.
“And some of us think her desire to test-drive the goods is smart rather than slutty. Or were you calling Marcy a slut, Danny Boy?”
Daniel unfolded his arms, cracking his knuckles and the camera men who had been calmly filming the conversation all came alert with the fight-radar that all men possessed. They shifted to get better angles, but Darius—the only one of the remaining Suitors who could probably put Daniel in a half-Nelson without breaking a sweat—put his big body between them.
Darius glowered at Craig. “What do you mean her desire? Are you saying she initiated it?”
“Guys, you’re just gonna have to wait until the episode airs. I’m not talking.” Then he shrugged. “But if I were Marcy, I’d want to sample the merchandise. And I wouldn’t be keeping around any guys who weren’t displaying an interest in me in that way. Chemistry is crucial. And initiative is sexy. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
He scanned the crowded foyer, easily picking out the guys who had kissed Marcy already based on who looked smug rather than nervous. Only about four real threats so far then. Danny Boy—no surprise, the fucking goodie goodie. Darius—who seemed most possessive toward Marcy of all the men. Mark L.—now the only Mark since Mark J. left and a bit of a surprise since he had a sort of bumbling professor vibe. And James who’d had the other private date so far—putting proof to Craig’s theory that anyone who had her alone was getting a little lip action.
Shy Paul, who hadn’t had a date yet, looked distinctly uneasy, while John from Baltimore looked almost queasy, but Drunk Aidan looked determined, as did several of the other guys.
A dry female voice spoke from the open doorway behind him. “If you’re done stirring up trouble for now, I’d like a word, Mr. Corrow.”
He turned to find Miranda watching him with narrowed eyes and tightly pursed lips.
The Suitors hadn’t had much contact with the executive producer so far, as they were typically wrangled by one of several teams of segment producers, and he couldn’t imagine being sought out by her was a good thing at this stage in the show.
Had Marcy decided he was too much trouble after all? Was he being sent home?
“My pleasure.” Craig swept a mocking bow, concealing his nerves behind his usual bullshit, and followed Miranda out the front door and onto the cobblestone driveway.
He wasn’t sure whether he should feel comforted or concerned that no camera crews followed them. “What’s up?”
She turned to face him, holding a tablet loosely at her waist as she studied him. “What were you doing in there?”
He looked back over his shoulder at the house. “With the guys? Just being honest. I’m an honest guy.”
“Especially when you know honesty will piss people off, I think,” Miranda observed, her sharp eyes assessing him.
“What can I say? I’m a straight shooter.”
“Somehow I don’t think that phrase means the same thing to you that it does to most people,” she said dryly. “But that isn’t why I wanted to talk to you.”
This was it. The moment when he learned Marcy was giving him the boot. Craig felt his muscles tensing, bracing for the impact of the words.
“What’s your endgame, Craig?”
It took him a moment to recognize the unexpected words. “What?”
“Don’t be cute. You’re trying to manipulate my Miss Right and we both know that’s my job. I could make life very difficult for you, if I chose, but instead I’m asking, what do you hope to gain from this? We both know you aren’t here to fall in love with Marcy, so why are you here? What do you want?”
His brain finally caught up with the conversation. “A job,” he said bluntly. “A big, juicy network television contract. Or HBO or Comedy Central. I’m not picky. Hell, I’d even host E! Entertainment Television if that’s where I have to start.”
By the second sentence, Miranda was slowly beginning to smile. “You want to be a star.”
“Damn right, I do.”
#
Miranda didn’t realize until she felt the wave of relief exactly how nervous she’d been about not being able to control Craig. But Bennett had reminded her of something she’d long known. Control was all about knowing what people wanted and knowing how to dangle it in front of them. She had him now.
She’d glanced over Craig’s background information on the walk over to the Suitor Mansion. He’d grown up starving poor with a single mother who had provided for him the best she could through every curveball fate through at them. That sort of thing marked a person. It all made sense now. Craig would never feel secure and always want money. It was the fortune as much as the fame that drove him.
So all she had to do was offer him a golden ticket.
She could play him along, let him get as far as was good for the show, and then put a Love or Money choice in front of him and he’d choose Money, walking away from Marcy and giving Miranda a gorgeous, juicy television moment that audiences would be talking about all week. America would hate him, but Craig didn’t seem bothered by that. He would be notorious. Marcy would be disappointed, but she wouldn’t invest her emotions enough to actually have her heart broken. It really was the perfect solution.
Miranda knew how to keep Craig Corrow, the Biggest Pain in her Ass, in line.
“Craig, I think we might be able to help you get exactly what you want.” She smiled, all teeth. “On the condition that you stop fucking with my Miss Right’s head. Play nice and I’ll see what I can do for you. Make my life hell and I’ll return the favor. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, smug and easy, but now Miranda didn’t find that grin unsettling. She had his puppet strings now. She was back in control.