Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“The winner will be offered a full-time job to work as a hostess at a Caribbean resort,” he explains. “Does that satisfy you, Miss Allstrom?”
“Does it pay well? I heard it pays six figures,” I blurt out. Oh my god, what am I doing? Have I gone insane? I have no idea why I’m feeling so emboldened. Maybe it’s because I need to know—right this minute—if this pageant is a waste of time. But really, I think it’s because I want to know if Trek and his buddies are full of crap, and if this whole thing is a scam.
Because that would suck. I kind of want to get to know Trek.
The man lets out a low, rumbly chuckle. “The job pays a hundred thousand dollars, in fact,” he confirms in a casual tone. “For six-months of work. There is the potential to extend the contract, however, depending on performance.”
I sit down on my chair like a limp doll, completely floored by the sheer amount of money in play. One hundred thousand dollars for six months of being a receptionist? Suddenly, I know I have to win.
“Do you have any other questions, Posey?” Trek asks, his expression amused.
Yes, yes, a thousand questions! Who are you? Why so much money? Are you for real about all of this?
Out loud, I simply swallow. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
Trek holds my gaze for a few seconds longer.
“Excellent. Then Narax is going to take over to discuss the bikini fittings, as well as the choreographed dance. I’ll be available for questions later.”
I swallow hard, unable to meet Trek’s eyes because holy cow. I have to win this competition now, except that I’ve already gotten off on the wrong foot. Trek likely thinks I’m some insane gold-digger, which I am in a sense. But what he doesn’t realize is Posey Allstrom has her naughty methods … and I’m not afraid to unleash them on the handsome man.
4
Posey
“I’m super-nervous. Are you nervous? I mean, a bikini fitting? I had no idea that bikinis even had to be fitted,” Kelly says in a droll voice. We’re making our way across the original conference room at the Hotel Nova, searching for signs of life. It’s day two of pageant training and today, I’m a wreck.
I nod in response to Kelly’s question, not really paying attention. Instead, my eyes are scouring every inch of the room for signs of Trek, but he’s not here. I should feel relieved, but instead, I feel disappointed.
He wasn’t in the lobby. But he must be around somewhere. Pageant directors are supposed to be present for pageant prep, right?
“I can’t believe how big this hotel is,” Kelly prattles on, “like who knew there was a whole performance area in here? Did you see that stage?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, too distracted by the idea of running into Trek to really care about the details of the hotel.
We reach one of the doors on the far right side of the room and cross into a long, softly lit hallway. Signs point out the way to the dressing rooms, stage area, and A/V booth. Kelly and I walk forwards, both of us unsure what to expect.
I had a pretty sleepless night last night. I wish I could blame it on nerves, make some internal argument with myself that it’s all about the competition next week. That I’ve never done anything like a beauty pageant, so it’s natural for my mind to run rampant. But I’m not the kind of person who can lie to herself, although it’s not from lack of trying.
No, last night—after spending less than ten minutes talking to the man—I had intense dreams about Trek. Not casual ones about how hot he is, but naughty, blush-inducing ones where he had his way with me, over and over again. And in my dreams, I was a total slut. I kept demanding more from him, suggesting ideas so scandalous that I have no idea how I even imagined them.
Even now, my cheeks are hot.
I toss my red curls to the side and sigh, a deep sound as if my body is trying to let out some of my pent-up frustration, just so I can experience a brief moment of relief.
Kelly stops mid-stride. “What’s wrong?” she demands, her astute eyes watching me.
I grimace. “I had a hard time sleeping last night,” I confess, opting for a half-truth.
“Yeah?” she clucks sympathetically. “Me too. I honestly didn’t think I’d already be so nervous about the contest, considering we have two weeks to go still.”
I nod, glad that Kelly is sharing her woes, but not so sure that I’m going to willingly share mine just yet.
She leans in toward me. “But I guess it’s because the guys are so gorgeous, too,” she whispers. “It’d be less nerve-wracking if they were little old ladies in charge of getting us in shape,” she adds with a giggle.