Page 21 of You're The One
I’m heading down the only hallway I haven’t explored, glass in hand, when a blur of movement suddenly catches my eye. Before I can react, an arm snakes around my waist and yanks me back.
A scream builds in my throat, but it never escapes, muffled by a large, scratchy hand clamped tightly over my mouth.
Darkness swallows me when my attacker steps into a closet and kicks the door shut.
Warm breath skates across my cheek. “Shh.” What should be a soft, comforting sound comes out sharp. “It’s me. We need to talk.”
What. The. Fuck.
Dominic releases my waist, but his hand slides down my thigh. I stop the movement with a quick backward kick to his shin.
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, shaking out the leg I nailed. My heel to his shin probably hurt like hell.Good.
“Goddammit, Mia! I was looking for your mic pack,” he mutters. “Please be reasonable.”
Doesn’t he know that telling a woman to be reasonable is the fastest way to make sure she won’t be?
But he makes a good point. I reach for the mic pack clipped beneath my dress, pressing and holding the button until the tiny red light blinks out.
Night one, and I’m already breaking the rules… though, what do I have to lose? It’s not like Dominic is going to keep me around that long. I’d be shocked if I made it past the elimination tonight.
I spin too fast, and whatever champagne hadn’t already splashed onto the floor now sloshes out of my glass and over the front of his button-down.
“Mia,” he grates.
I can barely make out his shape, but just picturing his angry face is enough to make laughter bubble out of me. Everyone else can have his smiles. I’ll take the scowl. I try to muffle the sound with my hands but end up smacking his chin instead.
“Fuck, woman.”
I hear more than I can see: the scratch of his stubble as he rubs his jaw.Serves him right.
“What is this even about?” I gesture around the cramped space, though I doubt he can track the movement.
“We need to talk without mics or cameras, and that’s almost impossible.”
As my eyes adjust, his silhouette comes into focus. Then our surroundings. We’re in some kind of coat closet, though, this being California and a film set, it’s mostly piles of boxes.
He clears his throat. “I have a proposition.”
“A proposition?” Skepticism drips from every syllable.
He nods. “I want you to stay.”
“You want me to stay?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”
“Sorry… go on.”
“We both came here with plans…verydifferent plans, but they’re both valid.”
“Is that maturity I’m hearing? Didn’t think you had it in you.” I prop a hand on my hip. Hopefully, his eyes have adjusted enough to see my annoyance.
Getting caught in a coat closet with the bachelor? Yeah, not exactly the vibe I’m going for. Talk about painting a target on my back for the other women—never mind the repercussions from production. No thanks. I’m trying to fly under the radar here.
He ignores the jab. “So, we should support each other. That’s what Lo?—”
Is Dominic even capable of making a decision without Ryan’s approval?
