Chapter Ten

Group Date #1

I'm feeling more like fighting this morning as I sit with the others chosen for the first group date. I don't want to admit that there was a piece of me that was surprised—and disappointed—that Luca hadn't chosen me for the one-on-one date. Instead, I was selected to go with five other women to Central Park to play touch football.

The other four get to go to a special exhibit at MOMA.

Guess which one I would prefer.

"So your clothes haven't shown up yet?" Ashley F sits down beside me.

We're sitting on the vast green of the North Meadow. Production has blocked off most of the space which I could have told them will piss off so many locals since this is one of the places in Central Park where you don't need a permit to play a spontaneous game of football or soccer.

There is nothing spontaneous about what's happening on this field now.

"What do you mean? I got two suitcases delivered early this morning." I'd been told Ivy and Harper had run by my place to pack everything I would need. They'd been thorough. I'm pretty sure every piece of clothing I own is in those cases. They kind of exploded when I'd opened them up.

I wish they'd hung around so I could talk to them. I wish it had been one of them delivering all my makeup and hair supplies instead of Patrick, who'd rolled his eyes and questioned my choice of suitcase.

Ashley's smile wavers. "Oh. Okay. So we should maybe talk about how to dress for a date."

Ah. Yeah, so everyone else is in super-cute outfits. They look like Sports Barbie, with their micro shorts and tank tops that cling to their every curve.

I'm in sweats and a T-shirt that declares I'm done adulting. I'm not. I'm absolutely adulting in a way that I hope gets my dressed-down backside booted from the show.

I know the producers are already upset as one of them asked if I needed more time to get ready and I'd smiled and said no.

"I'm dressed to play football. I don't know about the rest of you. You're going to go down hard. I wonder if I can get some knee pads." See, typically this is where someone asks me for a crazy request, and I go off into the city to fulfill it. I'm betting Patrick won't be doing that for me.

"It's not about football and you know it," Ashley F says.

"It's about looking cute while you play." Ashley W is a bouncy ball of fun. She's a twenty-something social media influencer from Chicago. She sits on my opposite side, so I'm surrounded by Ashleys. I wonder where the third one is.

"It's about looking good for the camera," Ashley F corrects.

"I thought it was about looking good for the king." I can't help but glance over to where Luca's sitting on a picnic blanket with Shelby, laughing at something she says as the camera films their one-on-one time.

"If I look good for the camera, I look good for the king," Ashley F informs me. "But, girl, you need to let us dress you because this is not cute."

I know it's not cute. I meant for it to not be cute, but I'm still a little sad about that.

"Is there a reason you're not wearing makeup?" Ashley W asks with wide eyes. "Are you poor and you can't afford any? I get all mine from sponsors. I can loan you some."

I've been surprised at how nice most of the women in the house are. With the exception of Shelby's bitchiness and Katy's cattiness, the ladies are cool. They helped each other get ready for their dates, cheered when Hannah received the one-on-one date, and took chores either cooking or cleaning up after breakfast.

"I have some makeup," I reply. "I was going for a natural look."

Ashley W shakes her head. "Oh, no, sweetie. There's no natural look on film. I mean there is, but it's accomplished by putting on a lot of makeup. I'll help you before the next king's choice ceremony. I'm practically a makeup artist. You should watch one of my tutorials. Well, if we could have access to the Internet. What did people do before TikTok?"

"Talked to each other. Read books." I could go for a book. Maybe one where the heroine finds herself lost in a faery realm and gets railed hard by the prince.

Or maybe not.

"Eww. That sounds terrible." Ashley W shudders delicately.

Ashley F leans over. "They do it so we get bored and cause unnecessary drama."

She's right about part of what she's saying. "It's totally necessary drama. No one watches if everyone loves each other and shares the dude without a single complaint. Who's the guy pacing on the sidelines? He's not a producer."

There's a tall man wearing a suit and aviators pacing the outer edges of the shoot. He looks completely out of place because everyone is casual today. Not this guy. He looks like a man on a mission, and he has to have something to do with Luca since every couple of minutes his attention refocuses on the king.

Ashley W squints behind her designer sunglasses. She obviously hasn't started the Botox some of the other women have. "Oh, I think that's the bodyguard. He's hot, too."

He is, though in a tough guy, I can kill a whole bunch of people and not blink an eye way. If you like that kind of thing. I'm more about the dude who looks like a nice guy but is really an asshole who's lasered in on me. But oh, hey, I don't believe in love.

Get some therapy.

The more I think about it, the more I want to be anywhere but here.

"They say the king doesn't go anywhere without him," Ashley F whispers, looking around to see if anyone's watching. "I think your mom is trying to get your attention."

I bet she is. I bet she has some questions about my current attire. "I don't want to bother her while she's working. If she puts out sliders, you should stock up. They're delicious. And she does perfect French fries."

I wave over to my mom, who sends me a what-the-hell look, but I'm "working" so I do not have to deal with a lecture from my mom on why my hair is in a messy bun when everyone else is sheer perfection.

"Anika," a familiar voice says. "For some reason the king wants to shoot some one-on-one time with you. I don't suppose I can convince you to brush your hair."

Patrick. The bane of my existence. Or is that Luca? What happens when there are multiple banes? I get to my feet, ignoring the grass stains on my sweats. I got them from playing the game instead of giggling inanely while pretending not to know what to do with the ball.

It's not fair. The other women are doing exactly what they should do. I'm being the bitch here, but I can't stop thinking about what Luca said the night before.

He doesn't believe in love and even if he did, what am I supposed to do? Give up everything I have to become the queen of a postage-stamp country in Europe? I'm not royalty. I have a career I love. A career I can lose because Luca wants me to be his safety choice.

I'm a bit bitter, and I hate the fact that now I wish I'd been more careful with my appearance because he looks like a Greek god over there and I'm about to sit beside him.

"My hair is fine," I grouse as I get to my feet.

"It's on the messy side." Ashley F follows me, pulling a small comb out of her back pocket. Before I can stop her, she's smoothing my hair back.

"And you could use some blush."

I don't know where Ashley W kept that blush compact in those skin-tight, tiny shorts of hers, but she's brushing it on my cheeks in no time.

Both Ashleys step back, eying me critically.

"She'll do," Ashley F says.

"She has to, but I'm going to tie her to a makeup chair tomorrow before filming," Ashley W vows. "And we have to do something with all that hair. It's gorgeous. It's a crime to keep it up like that. It should be blowing in the wind so you can look like the sun goddess you are."

"And then it would have whipped right into Shelby's face," Ashley F says with a firm nod. Then she smiles. "Oh, I take it back. That's what she deserves. She just tried to go in for a kiss and the king denied her. Wow. That's embarrassing."

I look over and Luca's got big, sympathetic eyes going as he explains something to Shelby. Shelby's lips purse and she nods, but when she's helped up, her eyes roll. She's flushed a deep red as she stomps away. The woman wore platform heels to play football. It's ridiculous. Even more ridiculous is how fast she is in those suckers. Like if the zombie apocalypse comes, Shelby's good. Even if she's in a designer dress at a cocktail party, she'll zip right out of there.

Oh, if the zombie apocalypse happens right now, I might not have to go and sit with Luca and pretend to fawn all over him.

See, everything has a silver lining.

"Those girls are being kind to you," Patrick says as he marches me across the verdant battlefield. "You could at least try."

"I don't want to be here. I want to be working," I say under my breath.

"Well, strap in, Fox, because I've seen how people on the web reacted to you. I have no idea why because you seem boring as hell to me, but they love you. There's zero way the producers are letting you go. You're getting the hero edit, but you're going to make it hard on everyone, aren't you? If they can't make you look good from the way you act…"

I know where he's going. "They'll do it by making the rest of them look bad."

Patrick nods. "Some of them won't care. Shelby's already determined she's going for the villain edit. I don't think Katy will give a crap. But it'll bother Hannah when they make her look dumb."

And they could. Even if she isn't. It's all about the edit on a show like this. I'm screwing things up for everyone else, and I don't mean to. All I want is to go home and pretend like I haven't caught big old feelings for the gorgeous, smart, funny, can't-ever-love-me king.

"Okay." I can't argue with him about it. "I'll try harder tomorrow. I promise. I don't suppose you could let me have my phone for a couple of minutes. I need to ask my friends to grab some things for me."

"Hey, kiddo." Tonya waves my way as we pass the craft services table. "Don't tell anyone but there's a container of your mom's meatballs in the cooler for you. I'll slide it your way before you head out. Patrick, don't give me that look. I can cut you off."

"Like I care," he calls out, not looking back. He keeps moving. "You better not forget those meatballs. Sneak them in, and don't let anyone see you. I do care. That table is my only source of nutrition, and your freaking moms make these individual chicken pot pies that I'm obsessed with. I do not want to know how many calories are in them."

Crew usually don't worry about calories. They are always on their feet, always working. They will burn the calories. "Moms? Huh. I guess they are. I mean Tonya's been around since before I was born. She's my mom's best friend. When I think about it, she's my mom's most serious and long-lasting relationship."

I might not have learned how to have a healthy marriage from my parents, but I did learn longtime friendship from those two. Tonya and my mom have been there for each other through broken marriages and terrible dates. Tonya didn't have kids, so she served as a backup parent to me.

Patrick touches his earpiece. "Yes, she's here. We'll be ready to shoot in five. And the coffee is on its way." He looks back at me. "Give me a list of what you need and I'll call your friends. They're cool. Your friends that is. Not you."

"Never me," I agree and sigh as Luca walks up to us, a bright smile on his face.

"Have I told you how lovely you are today?" Luca asks like I'm not wearing grass-stained sweats and a snarky shirt.

Patrick touches his earpiece again. "We're going to need to schedule a medic to look at the king's eyes."

He walks off, grumbling.

That is a deeply unhappy man.

I turn to Luca. "Are you going to cut me today?"

He simply smiles, an expression that literally makes my body tighten. I'm pretty sure I just spit out an egg. "Why would I do that when you look so good?"

"I look like crap."

"You look real. Don't get me wrong. You look perfect when you're beautifully made up, but you also look perfect like this. You looked adorable when you caught that ball I threw to you," he says. "Out of all the women, you're the only one who took the game seriously. That's what I'm looking for in a bride. Oooo, that's the perfect thing to say in those… What did they call them?"

I can see clearly now all the mistakes I've made. "Confessionals."

Known in the scripted world as the talking head. This is where the contestant speaks directly to the camera and confesses all their feelings about what's happened. On a show like this, the word falling will be in heavy rotation.

He nods. "Yes, confessionals. I will confess that of all the women today, you are the one who I will remember. We looked at each other across a crowded field and I knew I had to get the ball to you."

"I was playing on the opposite team. It was an interception," I point out.

His perfectly coiffed head shakes. "Not how I remember it." He moves into my space, his voice going low. "You should know that I've told the producers about the laws in my country concerning public displays of affection when it comes to the royal family. It's sad, but we must maintain standards. Shelby didn't take it well."

"You told them you wouldn't kiss anyone the whole time we're filming?" I have to wonder how that had gone over.

"I explained to them that when I'm properly engaged, I can kiss my fiancée. Until then, I can't kiss women."

Then I'm safe. "So you won't try kissing me again."

"Oh, I'm going to sneak into your room again for a make-out session as soon as possible. I said women. Plural. I can kiss one in private. Lucky you."

"No, not lucky me. Luca, this isn't fair."

"It feels fair to me. Come on. I got us ice cream."

He leads me back to a sitting area the production assistants have put together. Patrick fluffs the pillows on the bench, and I can see the assistant who's waiting with two cones in hands. One chocolate and one…

"You remembered I love strawberry," I say, my heart clenching slightly.

"I also remembered that you love it from the cart near the zoo, not the one closer to here. I had an assistant get it. He kept it in a cold bag. I hope it's acceptable."

I nod.

I'm so often the forgotten one. It's not that my friends don't love me. Or that my mom doesn't care. They do, but they're busy. They're all big personalities, and I can get lost in the shuffle. The truth is I'm excellent at helping people. I'm not sure how good I am at anything on my own. Being part of a team has always been my strong suit. But it doesn't get me noticed often.

Luca notices me. He sees me.

That might be the nastiest trick the universe could play on me.

"Are you ready?" Joe is suddenly there, and he's frowning. "You trying to stand out, Anika? That's not the way to do it."

I'm supposed to stay in his good graces. How can I do that if I'm pissing him off? "I got my clothes late. Sorry. I'll be better tomorrow."

"She looks fine," Luca argues. "We're playing sports. I can't believe the women who are wearing heels. You should thank her for not being a medical hazard. Come, Ani. Let's get our ice cream before it melts. What shall we talk about?"

He's taken my hand, and I can't help but curl my fingers around his.

"Patrick!" Joe yells, sounding more annoyed than I've ever heard him before.

I watch Joe and Patrick walking toward the one trailer we have set up as the assistant director moves in on me and Luca. He takes over the filming with the competence of a long-term professional.

"We're rolling in three," the assistant director tells us.

I lean in because once they start rolling, I won't be able to be real with him. "Thanks for picking Hannah. She's excited about the one-on-one date. She's an excellent choice."

He frowns. "Ani, I picked her so I can cut her. I don't want to hurt her. Despite what you think of me, I didn't come here to break hearts. I thought it would be kinder this way."

I can't let this happen. She'll be devastated. I can work on her, can make her see how amazing she is and that she doesn't need to marry a king to do great things, but only if she's here. "You can't let her go this early."

"You said it yourself," Luca points out.

I shake my head. "She's going to get hurt either way. Give her some screentime. Don't dump her on the second day. She's a sweet kid."

He's silent for a moment, and I should be worried. Very worried. "I could be persuaded to keep her."

My teeth clench. "I suppose if I don't block the door tonight, you'll consider it."

One broad shoulder shrugs. "My darling, if you block the door, I'll climb in through the vents. I've already thought of all of this. You'll find I'm an excellent planner. No. I was hoping you would pretend to like me for the camera."

He knows exactly how to get to me. "Liking you isn't the problem."

But it is. I like him a lot. Despite everything, I want to be around him. There's a part of me that is satisfied by the fact that he seems to be ruthlessly pursuing me.

I have to remember where I am and that nothing is real here. He's pursuing me because he's in an impossible position and I'm the easy way out.

He looms over me, and it's hard to remember all those truths when he's standing there looking gorgeous. He stares down at me like I'm the only person in the world for him.

"I'm glad because I like you quite a bit," he says.

"We're ready, Your Majesty." Christy is standing to the side of the picnic blanket, a frown on her face. "That ice cream you insisted on is going to melt if we don't get going."

Ah, there it is. That's what I need to hear.

"We couldn't have that." Luca winks down and takes my hand, leading me back to the blanket.

And all those cameras that will be on us as we film our "scene."

Still, when the ice cream comes, it tastes perfect. It tastes real, and I'm flooded with sweet memories.

As the cameras start to roll, I wonder if this will be a good memory. Or something I regret for the rest of my life.