Chapter 6: Cora

She wasn'tsure what that guy had said to Eloise but Cora was righteously pissed on her behalf. She hated the way the other girl shrunk in on herself, the way her face—which had only just lost its pink tint—immediately flushed again.

Cora watched in real time as Eloise decided how she felt about what the man had said. She was clearly devastated, the comment almost assuredly something about how she carried herself or how she looked. Some sort of intrinsic part of her that she couldn't or wouldn't change. But Eloise was also growing just as pissed as Cora was. Eloise scrunched her face and glared at the offender. At least, Cora thought it was a glare. Her features were a little too angelic to really pull it off.

And then the other girl had spun and simply stomped back into the manor.

Well, Cora wasn't really interested in sticking around with the asshole, the surfer-looking dude who had been blatantly ogling Eloise, and Cora's own Handsy McGee so she took off after her.

"Eloise?" Cora called, feeling like she was almost sprinting to catch up to her. Which was ridiculous. Eloise had maybe an inch on Cora. Maybe there was just more fire in her at the moment.

Usually, that was Cora's thing.

"I'm fine!" Eloise waved her off, not even turning to see who'd chased after her.

Cora might have applauded the false bravado in her words if she hadn't been there to witness her growing decidedly not fine.

A deep fuck sounded behind Cora and she twisted to spot the tall one eating up the distance between him and the girls. Well. At least he had the decency to come apologize. Or, Cora hoped that was what she was doing. His lips were turned down in an expression she thought might be guilt but could very well just be how he held his face on the regular.

Cora weighed her options, unsure if she should continue to follow Eloise to make sure the asshole didn't say anything else to set her off or to let her fight her own battles. The decision was taken from her, though, when her name sounded through the hall and Eloise and her tormenter disappeared around the corner.

"Gordon."

Had Cora missed that faint little accent? Really, she couldn't possibly have. It had been in her dreams, after all. But it still sent unnamed sensations over her skin. Through her insides.

She twirled to face the voice and pretended to adjust something with her bikini strap. "Yes, Mr…" She trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

He didn't. Instead, he just said, "We need to have a chat."

Good god. What had she done now? Was he going to punish her?

Oh. How would he punish her? She hoped he might get a little rough.

She crossed her arms, trying to hide her excited nipples. "Chat away."

Carter's voice dipped, low enough that she was certain not even her mic could pick it up. "You need to stay away from Moore."

"Moore?"

"Maxon."

"Oh! You mean Killer."

Carter tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. She couldn't quite see but she thought he was hiding the beginnings of a smile. Or maybe that was just his exasperation. That did seem to be his natural state.

"Sure, Killer," he amended. "But I think it would be best if you kept your distance from him."

"Is he dangerous?" Cora asked.

Carter clenched his jaw. "I don't think so."

"Is his behavior getting him kicked off the show?"

Now he was glaring at her. His glare was about a million times more intimidating than Eloise's and it set Cora on fire. "Not currently."

"Then why do I have to stay away?" she challenged.

It wasn't that she felt particularly excited about hanging around Maxon. She'd had her fill of him the night before and wasn't eager to repeat the experience. But needling Carter about it? Well, that was simple fun. Like a shot of adrenaline to her veins, imagining that his concern might be for something other than the smooth running of his show.

Cora'd gotten high on hope before and it seemed she never quite learned her lesson.

"Just do as I say," he growled. He growled at her.

"Isn't this my honeymoon?" she joked. "I should be able to do whatever I want."

"Not with him."

"With who, then?" Her demand sat between them without answer so she kept going. "Do you want me to do things with the other boys?"

A vein in his neck made a delicious appearance and Cora knew he hadn't liked that.

"Or are you saying you want me to do it with you?"

"Do what?"

"My honeymoon."

"That wouldn't be very professional," he murmured.

And was that his only argument? That they were keeping up appearances as the bastions of professionalism? She wouldn't point out that he didn't outright refuse her.

"No," she allowed with a shrug, "it sure wouldn't."

Cora tried to walk away from him then—she really did. But there was a possibility that she couldn't resist the temptation to hip-check the man as she left. Only, Carter gripped her arm before she could make contact, leaving her scrambling to keep up with his stride as he dragged her down the hall.

The pressure of his touch did something to her.

"Out." Carter's voice boomed through the small space he'd led her into and the random production staff scattered like pests. Cora recognized the little twerp from the night before lingering. He opened his stupid mouth, probably to protest in some way, but Carter noticed, too. "I need to have a chat with Cora. Alone."

She didn't think that should be hot, the way he brooked no argument. The way the fear sparkled in the production team's faces. And she felt a little triumphant when they all did leave, like she'd been on a winning team even though she was certain she was about to get reprimanded.

Now, for what exactly, she had no clue.

His silence told her that he might not have an idea, either.

She figured she'd be kind and let him have a minute while she took in the room. The narrow walls were decked out in a muted, sunset pink, with stylized hearts inset in a repeating pattern. In the middle of the room sat a massive velvet loveseat, facing some sort of contraption that looked like it was imprisoned in the wall. It looked a little like it was trying to be a mirror but couldn't quite commit.

"It's a camera," Carter told her. "This is going to be your diary room."

Cora's eyebrows shot up. "And you want whatever you're about to say to me to be caught on camera?"

"Don't really have a choice." Choosing not to unpack that, Cora settled onto the loveseat, drawing her legs up until she sat cross-legged. Carter kept explaining, like she'd asked. "The camera doesn't shut off, for your safety. None of our staff are technically allowed to be alone with the contestants but, since this room is quite small, they decided to keep a camera set up as insurance."

"Ah, so you're not about to have your wicked way with me, then."

She was teasing—sort of—but Carter didn't not have a reaction to it. His face, hard and angular and tired, remained exactly the same. But his arm raised to a panel on the wall and his fingers pressed a button that instantly turned red.

"What did you just do?"

"Turned the audio off."

She nodded, pretending she understood. Pretending she wasn't curious and hopeful and more excited now than she'd been when she'd entered the manor. "Oh, okay. So you're just going to have your wicked verbal way with me."

"Why," he rasped, "are you so hell-bent on teasing me, Cora?"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

His laugh was hard. Harsh and accusing. "Like you don't know."

Cora crossed her arms over her chest again. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"You're doing it right now," he snapped. "Pushing up your breasts. Sitting there with your thighs spread like the slightest movement wouldn't expose you to me." She let her arms fall, not caring anymore if he could see the outline of her nipples. "You did it when we first met, too," he went on. "Don't think I didn't notice your eye contact. The way you licked your lips before you answered my questions."

She wanted him to step closer. To make good on whatever his unspoken threat was. He didn't, remaining firmly out of sight of the camera.

"And," he added finally, "don't think I didn't notice you crossing and uncrossing your legs. Don't think I don't know exactly the kind of friction you were chasing."

Cora scoffed. "So it's a crime to be turned on in this place?"

"That depends, Cora." Damn, she loved the way his mouth formed her name. "Who is it that's turning you on?"

"Is that a genuine question?" she shot back.

"Answer it."

For whatever embarrassment she felt when he called her out on her eye contact, Cora didn't break it now. The two of them were locked in on one another, her gaze honed in on his nearly-black eyes. She didn't need to break away to take in his hair, styled to perfection with only the slightest dusting of gray around his temples. She didn't need to take in his jaw again, the way it clenched like he might be talking himself out of biting down on something. On someone.

And she didn't need to see his body again to be able to picture what it looked like under his suit. It certainly wouldn't be as chiseled or as picture-perfect as the other contestants. She imagined it was hairy and equal parts hard and soft. She imagined what it might feel like pressed against her. Over her.

Under her, even.

And in this standoff, she tried to conjure up the same fantasy with a different man, one who was available to her now. It wasn't that she couldn't do it. She could. And she knew exactly what it would be like if she pursued Maxon or that surfer or even the asshole who'd insulted Eloise.

They did nothing for her.

They may have even dried her right up, if she hadn't gone right back to fantasizing about the man in front of her.

"Who's getting you wet right now, Cora?"

She glanced down to find a small darkened spot on the gusset of her bikini bottoms. Cora snapped her legs shut. She wasn't embarrassed. But did she want to offer him the right to look? Did it matter?

Was she not his to look at, while she was here?

Was she not his to command?

Fine then. If he wanted honesty from her, he would get it. "You."

Predatory, his returning smile was. "I what?"

"You turn me on," she hissed. "Is that such a bad thing?"

But Carter was done speaking with her, it seemed. He wasn't done staring—no, Cora was certain he wouldn't be done staring for a long time—but he said nothing else. Nothing, when he pressed the button again, letting it turn green to signal that the audio had been turned back on.

Cora didn't mind having the last word.

She hopped up from the loveseat, fixing her gaze first on Carter and then the camera. "Well, I guess I'm off to find someone else to turn me on."

She didn't wait to watch Carter's face fall. God, though, she hoped it did. Instead, she tried to work through who she might pursue to get the job done, if the showrunner wasn't up for the task. It certainly wasn't going to be Maxon. And the blow Eloise's ego had taken pretty much guaranteed that Cora would steer clear of both her crush and the instigator.

But who did that even leave? A boy she hadn't yet heard speak and one that looked like he made best friends with his marijuana? Maybe the surfer wasn't so bad. Sure, he seemed pretty taken with Eloise—or, her body, anyway. Perhaps that just meant that he was a safe option. One who wouldn't get so attached to Cora.

It was strange, Cora thought, that just yesterday she'd entered this manor hoping to find someone excited by the prospect of her. And now she was prepared to settle for the exact opposite. Why? Because she wanted to keep her options open for Carter?

Carter, who hadn't even told her he wanted her?

Hell, was Cora just falling back into the same pattern she had outside of the manor?

A week, she decided. She'd give herself a week. A week where she'd try on the boys she was allowed to have. See if any of them had the potential to thrill her as much as the thought of the showrunner did.

And if they didn't…

Well, Cora had four more weeks to see if she could turn Carter on right back.