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“Glad to have you here,” he said. “Tomorrow’s the big day.”
“It is. A big day for you as well, since you’re the man behind the curtain.”
Mr. Bradley gave a little chuckle, and his lips barely cracked into a smile. “Believe me, there are no secrets here. We run things pretty systematically, and I know a lot of fans are eager to meet you and the guys. You feeling up to meeting your dates?”
“I’m so ready,” Snow said. With the chance to peruse their profiles, learn their names and faces, and do her research to become acquainted with each of them before now, she wondered if they had a similar opportunity with her information. The same energy she felt before a marathon coursed through her now. She’d trained. She’d prepared, woken before the sun—so to speak—and was ready to put her feet to the course.
Mr. Bradley kept his face stern. Something told Snow he wasn’t the kind of man who smiled easily. “Excellent. Keep some of that energy for the cameras, all right?”
“Got it,” she said.
“Again, it was nice to meet you, Snow. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” He acknowledged Eloise before turning and stepping quietly off the set.
Snow felt jittery and bolstered by his confidence in her. Her energy effervesced. She couldn’t wait to get this show going.
“Makeup will be here by four pm,” Eloise said. “Make sure you’re here before then. Do you need anything else before I take off?”
“Not that I can think of. Just for time to go faster.” She was practically flapping inside.
Eloise smiled. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s still so much to do before go-time.”
“Of course,” Snow said. “I’ll head to my room, I think.”
“See you tomorrow,” Eloise said, padding toward the set’s exit.
“Tomorrow.” Snow breathed out that word again, directing a final glance to the dormant lighting, the vacant armchairs, the quiet set. Tomorrow, the rest of her life would change. That thought lingered with her as she made her way out of the studio, across the street to her hotel, and up the elevator to her room. She slipped her card into the reader and opened the door.
Somewhere, in this hotel, the seven men who were her bachelors, also had rooms. Were they as giddy and eager to meet her as she was to meet them? Were they questioning their sanity for doing something this daring?
They wouldn’t only be live on TV; the men had had to bare their souls and sob stories just as she had, to prove they deserved such a coveted place on the show to garner sympathy from the audience. And Snow didn’t doubt they’d had to sign all kinds of non-disclosure agreements as she had, as well as the same agreement to date her for a year after the show concluded and the prize of one billion dollars was awarded to her and the lucky guy.To keep up appearances,the form had said.
“Appearances,” Snow said, flicking on the light in her room.Not love.
It was just as well. She doubted love was possible after only a few dates. This show was simply for entertainment.
People wanted a fairytale. So she’d give them one—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hope for more. Falling in love with any of these men was about as unlikely as kisses waking maidens from the effects of poisoned apples. The most she expected was to make a few friends, she told herself. Friends. And the grand, billion-dollar prize—or the $500 million dollar prize each, however you wanted to look at it. Love wasn’t even a factor anywhere in this televised equation.
She wished it was, though. She wanted her Prince Charming.
With the light on, the sight of a small envelope on the floor gave her pause.
“What’s this?” Snow asked the empty room, wondering where the note had come from. From the envelope’s positioning, it looked as though someone had slipped it beneath the door.
Her mind went to the few people who could have snuck in something for her. Her best friend, Lily, lived across the ocean; her parents were back in Vermont. Although there was a possibility that they could have surprised her by flying out for the premier. They did things like that to support her.
Her other friend, Juliet, could sent her a good luck note. Or was it possible one of the men knew where her room was and had sent this to try and get an edge on the competition?
She bent for the envelope and slipped her finger beneath the seal. The paper released a satisfying ripping noise, but she couldn’t see a card or anything like it peering from the small opening. Strange. Snow opened the envelope and removed a marginally small piece of paper from within.
Fingers itching with curiosity, she opened its single fold and frowned.
Leave now while you still can.
The words were formed with letters that had been cut from what looked like magazines and glued together into place. Unease coiled along her ribcage.
“Not what I was expecting.” She considered only for a moment before crossing to the garbage can and letting the little paper drift down to join the empty soda cup and tissues that had been discarded earlier.
Leave? It wasn’t surprising to receive a little backlash—she knew as much from anything anyone tried from an artistic standpoint. Bad reviews and harsh critique were a part of show business.
