“God, I’m so nervous!” I hiss.

I grip the fabric of the blue cocktail dress the producers chose for me, my heart beating a mile a minute as I try to calm myself. I’m totally freaking out right now, somewhere between overwhelmed and excited and maybe about to puke. After two days of weirdness as I’m made “familiar” with the mansion via highly regulated escort, today’s the day we officially start filming. The reality of my situation has suddenly become all too real. I’m excited, but butterflies are still swarming in my belly.

“Chill, chica,” Brad whispers to me as he sees my right foot nervously tap-dancing to its own tune. We’re standing with McKayla in a prop room that’s going to later serve as the cocktail room for my suitors, waiting for filming to start. There’s a hubbub of activity going on, the production crew running to and fro, moving props and shouting orders. For the past half hour, I’ve watched the commotion and done nothing but fret over all the little things that could go wrong. Brad notices and pats me on the back. “Everything is going to be fine. You look absolutely stunning.”

The whole day, McKayla and Brad have tried their best to calm me down. As they did my hair and makeup, Brad was even joking about the bright red lips he gave me.

“Girl, I do believe I’ve given you the world’s best set of blowjob lips!” he quipped, snapping his fingers at my fierce look. “It’s going to drive all those dicks out there crazy!”

Sure, it worked, and I laughed, but it only took away my worries for a moment. And I couldn’t help but hope that the guys I meet tonight aren’t thinking that about my lips because then that’ll mean I’m sending the wrong message. I’m not a slut. And sending the wrong message is the last thing I want to do on TV.

And what do I know about being on camera anyway? I’ll probably fudge up the whole thing.

McKayla and Brad have assured me there’s nothing to filming since I don’t have actual lines and that I should just be myself. After all, that’s why they chose me, apparently. So far, that hasn’t helped. I think what’s driving me crazy the most is meeting all of these men and being expected to have chemistry with several of them, something I know isn’t possible.

And how am I supposed to know who is genuine and who is not?

No one cares if the love on the show is real. All that matters is whether it appears that way, says a small voice in the back of my mind. It’s the fantasy of perfect love. Not the truth.

I don’t know why the thought bothers me. I love to watch these shows and I can’t get enough of them. But now I’m on the other side.

“That’s easy for you to say,” I reply to Brad, tearing my eyes away from a camera man carrying his equipment balanced on his shoulder as he rushes across the room. “You’re not the one who has to go out there and be tossed in front of a pack of wolves.”

Brad lets out a snort and gives me a little shimmy. “Girl, please, I wish I was in your shoes. I’d yell for them to bring it on. They could eat all of this good stuff,” he says as he gestures to encompass his whole body.

“Except they’d probably get sick from eating tainted meat,” McKayla butts in. “And then filming would be a wrap.”

“Ain’t nothing tainted here, sweetheart,” Brad gloats, doing a little twirl as he pops his ass twice. “All of this tootsie roll is sweet. Sweet enough to eat.”

McKayla laughs and shakes her head and then looks at me with sympathy. “I’m sorry if we’re not helping, chica, but like Brad said, you’ll be fine.”

I shake my head. “Hearing you two is actually helping. It’s keeping my mind occupied.”

McKayla smiles at me. “Darlin’, if I looked like you look right now, all I would be worried about is how many hearts I’m going to break tonight when all the men see me.”

Warmth flows through my chest at her compliment. Even I have to admit that I look good, thanks to McKayla and Brad. My hair is done up into a spectacular updo with wisps of hair that cascade around my face. Despite Brad’s comment about my lips, he’s gifted me with a fierce face mask that channels a bit of catwalk. The cocktail dress is hugging my curves in all the right places, topped off with a sparkling diamond necklace and three-inch black heels that I can barely walk in.

“Thank you,” I reply softly, blushing.

Meredith sweeps into the room like a tornado before McKayla can reply, shouting orders and making demands. As usual, she’s dressed sharp as a tack in a black jumpsuit and matching black pumps, a white belt wrapped around her waist and not a hair on her head out of place.

The flurry of activity increases at Meredith’s commands, and the production crew goes into overdrive bringing the set to life. At the moment, I’m struck by how fake the setup is, but my frazzled nerves keep me from dwelling on it.

“Hey!” Meredith yells at a poor young stagehand carrying a vase that looks too large for him, gesturing wildly, “Watch where you’re going with that thing! It cost the studio a fortune.” She looks like she’s about to scold him further when her eyes fall on me and she forgets about him as she walks over.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful,” Meredith says, stopping in front of me and pursing her lips as she looks me up and down. “I knew we made the right choice. All you have to do is deliver on bringing the drama.”

I go pale, feeling sick to my stomach at her words. It’s a cold reminder of how the entire show is riding on my shoulders. Drama? I’m boring. I’m anything but drama.

Before I can reply, Brad clears his throat.

Meredith snorts. “If you’re looking for a compliment for doing a job that the studio pays you good money for, then you’ll be waiting until you’re old and gray.”

Brad goes silent, but I’m almost certain I hear him mutter under his breath, “Good money, my flat ass.”

Meredith ignores him and for the first time, her face softens as she reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling, doll?”

I part my lips to lie, but I think better of it. “Just a bit nervous is all. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“Oh, honey, you can’t worry yourself about that,” Meredith tells me. “You’ll do fine. We picked you out of thousands of applicants, and we’re usually a good judge of character. If all fails, just picture them naked and giggle all the time. You’ll come off as cute and endearing to the audience, if not a little ditzy.” She gestures at the room’s exit. “But if you’ll just follow me, we need to get you in position for the men’s arrival.”

I feel like a knock-kneed duck as I follow Meredith across the room and out to the manicured grounds, nearly stumbling as my heels sink into the grass. Brad and McKayla follow under the guise of making sure my hair and makeup stay on point, but I think they’re mostly lending me some much-needed moral support.

The sun is just setting as we make it out, basking the mansion in its orange glow. In spite of the setup, I’m in total awe of the gorgeous scene in front of me, taking a moment to memorize the sight before we begin. From what I’ve been able to gather, the ceremony starts at dusk, any minute now.

“Here,” Meredith says, stopping at an erected three-step dais before the roundabout driveway. She gives me her hand to help me up the steps and I turn around to face her.

“There,” she says, beaming. “You look perfect. Oh, and we can’t forget this.” She takes a tiny wireless mic from Nate, who hovers nearby, silently anticipating Meredith’s need. Attaching the mic to the front of my dress and the sound pack on my back, she surveys me one more time. Turning to McKayla and Brad, she says, “I do have to hand it to you guys. For all of your crazy cattiness, she looks great.”

McKayla and Brad look shocked at the compliment, but she doesn’t give them a chance to reply. “Okay, I have to go make sure the set is coming along inside. Emily, hold your mark for the ceremony. Joe, the cameraman, will be out here when it’s time to start filming.” She points at McKayla and Brad. “You two can stay out here for support, but only interrupt if Emily needs her hair or makeup fixed.”

“Ja wohl, Fraulein!” Brad says with a mock salute.

Meredith ignores him and gives me a wink as she walks off.

I’m standing on the dais, shaking like a leaf as studio crews rush outside to set up lighting and put large vases filled with roses around me. Despite the pep talk from Meredith, my anxiety seems to have only gotten worse, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum as the flurry of activity around me begins to make me dizzy.

McKayla is the first to notice that I look like I’m about to have a panic attack. She climbs up on the dais and begins fluffing my hair. “Breathe, chickadee, breathe,” she whispers in my ear so the nearby crew doesn’t hear. “Brad and I have your back. And you look fucking hot! You have nothing to worry about. You’re going to knock them off their feet. Just chill, smile, and have fun.”

She pats me on my back, and for the first time tonight, I feel some of my anxiety ebbing and my confidence returning.

I can do this, I chant to myself. Just be myself, but more confident and more chill.

And how many reality shows have I watched anyway? I’m practically a fucking expert. There’s no reason for me to be scared. Lord knows, I’ve seen enough episodes to know how this will roll, even if this is my first time participating in one.

The greeting ceremony should be a piece of cake. Each guy is supposed to walk up and introduce himself. Then after everyone has their moment, we’ll all mingle and chat it up to get to know each other.

Apparently, cameras and mics are hidden all over the place to catch all conversation, even whispered ones.

“All right, everyone, ready?” Meredith yells, reappearing on the edge of the set with a walkie talkie in her hand. She motions for Brad and McKayla to scram. “They’ll arrive any moment.”

“Good luck, chica,” McKayla whispers, jumping off the dais.

“You’ve got this,” Brad echoes as the two head off to the side and the cameraman gets in place.

“Cue the limos!” yells Meredith.

A black SUV limo pulls up the driveway. I have to remember to take a breath as it rolls to a stop a few feet from me and put a smile on my face. There’s a long pause as the suited driver walks around to stand by the door, and I swear they can hear my heart pounding on the mic.

The door opens and my breath catches in my throat.

A tall blond man in a tux steps out of the limo. It feels like I’ve seen him before, and he walks up with a swagger that just won’t quit.

“Hello, Emily,” he says in his deep voice, stopping right in front of me. Up close, I can smell his cologne. Spicy, masculine, but not too strong. His blond hair is slicked to the side, and his chiseled jawline and perfect white smile are making me weak in the knees, his piercing blue eyes cutting straight through me. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

For a moment, I’m at a loss for words.

Respond, you idiot!

“T–Thank you,” I say, smiling. “You don’t look so bad yourself . . .?” I look pointedly at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Hayden,” he says in a voice that makes me want to melt. “Hayden Bishop. I’m excited to get to know you. I have a feeling we’re going to be a match.”

“We’ll see about that,” I say lightheartedly. “There might be more of you where you came from,” I add as I cut my eyes to the SUV before locking eyes with him again.

“Nope. There’s only one me. I’m all you could ever need . . . or handle.”

My face turns scarlet. He’s got confidence. I like it. Before I can say anything, Meredith yells, “Next!”

Hayden looks disappointed, like he wants to say more, but he pulls me in for a friendly embrace. I’m enveloped by the heat radiating from his body, and I’m disappointed when he lets go of me and heads inside.

I let out a sigh, trying to release some tension and wishing I had a fan. That wasn’t so bad. If they’re all like him, shit, I’m in for a treat.

Next out is another handsome gentleman, a clean-shaven, dark brunette with hazel eyes. Like Hayden, he’s dressed in a dapper tux and has looks that could kill. But I don’t feel quite the same connection.

“If they’d have told me you were this beautiful, I would’ve dressed up,” the guy says in a voice that has a slight silky rasp to it.

I have to giggle at his compliment. “Thank you.”

“I’m Lee,” he says, taking my hand and brushing his lips across it. He knows just how to do it, and I feel goosebumps rising on my flesh. “Lee Dixon. I’m excited to get to know you and see if we’re a match,” he says, saying almost the same thing as Hayden. I have a feeling they’ve been coached to say those words somewhere in their introduction.

“Nice to meet you, Lee,” I say politely, flashing him a dazzling smile as he lets go of my hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

Meredith calls next, and in moments, Lee is gone and guy after guy climbs out of the limos to greet me. Some take my hand and some give light hugs. Some are casual and some are intense.

But they do have one thing in common. Each one seems just as handsome as the last, and it gets hard not to mix up names with faces. Something tells me I’m going to need cue cards to keep up with them all, but one good thing is that I find myself relaxing with each encounter.

By the time the entire cast has their turn greeting me and have headed inside, I feel dizzy but grateful that the ceremony is over. Meredith walks over with a smile on her face as I step down from the dais.

“How’d I do?” I ask, feeling a bit of uncertainty return.

“Wonderful,” she replies, filling me with relief. “Plenty of good footage, and you came off well.”

Off to the side, Brad and McKayla give me thumbs up. “You rocked it, girl!”

Meredith glances at them, then looks back at me. “All right, Emily, time to head inside for the cocktail scene. I need you to mingle around with the guys, feel them out a little. And remember, always act like you’re having a good time. If you have to chew a guy out on the first night, make it good. I wanna see his balls hanging from your bed stand, got it?”

She walks off, leaving me alone in my thoughts. It takes only moments for my anxiety to return. How the hell am I supposed to choose? Better yet, how do I know who’s genuine and who’s fake? Because to me, all of them were pretty fucking convincing so far.

As I make my way into the mansion and try to still my beating heart, I realize this is going to be a long night. I need to take my blinders off and get ready to spot the snakes. Because despite all the charming smiles and the honey-tongued compliments, I know they’re there, just waiting to strike.

The funny thing is, out of thirty guys, I can’t remember a single name and attach it with a face. Except one.

Hayden.