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“Have you ever experienced the thrill of laying down in the middle of the road and waiting for a car to come speeding toward you?” Camille asked softly.
Samuel froze like an animal caught in the crosshairs of a rifle.
“What did you say?” Maire asked, her eyes narrowing.
Camille knew they had heard her loud and clear.
“But have you ever been kissed in the woods next to a frozen lake by a boy that didn’t belong to you?” Camille said, keeping her eyes on Maire.
“This is bullshit,” Maire said, shaking her head. “You’re playing head games. I’m going now. Ten million dollars is waiting.” Maire stormed from the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her.
“We better go,” Samuel said, looking at the floor. “We’re late.”
She had lost him for now. It was time to go. The next challenge was about to begin.
“Okay,” Camille said. “Let’s just agree to do whatever we can to make sure that Ned Bennett goes home next. Then we can regroup. Talk more and try to figure out exactly what’s happening. And, Samuel.” She grabbed his hand. “I don’t really want to know what you did. I don’t care. I just want to get out of here in one piece.”
He shook her off. “That’s easy, then,” Samuel said, his eyes boring into hers, “because I didn’t do anything.”
Fear dragged a cold finger down her back and Camille nodded and let him pass by her. She lagged behind Samuel as they moved down the stairs where an intern was waiting for them. She led them through the atrium with its gurgling fountain. The marble goddess smiled down benignly on her as dark water poured out of the mouth of the mask she was holding.
“It’s this way,” the intern said, holding a wrought iron door open for them. Camille stepped over the threshold and nearly gasped at the beauty of the veranda. It was like transporting into old-world Italy. It was a more intimate space, unlike the other rooms in the villa. Smaller, warmer. Dozens of candles of various heights sat on the sills of the open-air windows.
The walls were made of stone and Camille looked up to see a pergola with massive wooden beams laced with grapevines. The vines, interlaced with twinkling lights, and heavy with black grapes, hung so low that Camille could reach up and grab a handful. Alfonso stood in a corner of the room and gave Camille and Samuel a distracted nod as they passed. “Fern will be here momentarily and then we’ll get started.”
“No cameras tonight?” Camille asked, noting that there were no camera operators in sight.
Alfonso gave her a knowing smile. “There are always cameras.”
Camille searched for the telltale evidence of cameras but saw none. But she knew they were there, she just couldn’t see them.
A harvest moon splashed through the leaves and puddled on the blue stone floor. A round table with five high-backed chairs sat in the center of the room. Atop the table, crystal wineglasses glittered in the candlelight. Rows and rows of wine and liquor bottles sat behind a bar cut from the same stone as the walls. Soft classical music played from a hidden speaker and the spicy scent of California fuchsia filled the night air. Ned paced across the blue stone and Maire sat on a cracked windowsill, looking out at the black lake.
Camille fought the urge to run. Despite the soothing music and the ambient lighting, tension crackled in the air. There was still time. She could forfeit and Fern would call a car for her, and she could be home in her own bed within a few hours. But Camille had to admit she was equal parts terrified and curious as to what the night would bring.
The only sound was the gentle lapping of the lake’s water kissing the shoreline and Ned’s footfalls on the stone. After a few minutes, Fern made her entrance dressed in a white silk jumpsuit with a cross-halter neckline that covered the bruises around her neck. “Camille, you sit right here, next to me,” Fern said, pulling out a chair for her. A pit grew in her stomach. Fern was planning on putting on a show tonight.
Camille walked over and stood next to Fern. Fern’s eyes shone brightly in the candlelight, giving off an almost feverish glint. It was as if the terrifying events at the lake never happened. She glanced at Fern’s arm. Once again, the tattoo was gone.
“Samuel and Maire, sit there and there,” Fern directed. “And, Ned, you’re over there.” She’s taking back some of the control that she lost during the lake challenge, Camille thought. Fern wanted everyone to know who was in charge, who was the master of the game. “And, Alfonso, I think we are all set now. You can go.”
“He’s leaving?” Samuel asked. “Why?”
“It’s in the script,” Fern said simply.
Camille watched, stomach twisting, as Alfonso and his intern went inside, leaving them all alone with Fern.
Fern took a seat and Camille settled into the remaining empty chair. “Our uniforms,” Camille said. “We’re all in white. Why?”
“Why not?” Fern countered. “Something different for a different kind of challenge.”
“I was thinking maybe it had more significance,” Camille said. “Everything on One Lucky Winner has been so methodically planned out. I thought it meant something more.”
Fern tilted her head and a thoughtful furrow between her eyes appeared. “Such as?” she prodded.
“Such as...perhaps we’re all wearing the same white uniform because we’re meant to think that we’re now on the same team.”
She smiled. “Or, Doctor, a white jacket is just a white jacket.” Camille nodded as if acquiescing the point and eased herself into her chair. “I took the liberty of pouring you each a glass of cabernet sauvignon. It’s our best wine, and it only comes out for the most special of occasions.” Fern picked up her glass and looked at them expectantly.
