Pick Me (18 page)

Frowning, Valentina gripped Colt’s hand. She’d been so caught up with announcing to the world that she wanted Colt, and only Colt, she’d forgotten the last piece of the show. The unveiling of the imposter. 

“Val, Colt, I’ll need you to take a seat.”

Colt sat back down in his chair, while she took the one next to him, never letting go of his hand. A part of her hoped Colt was the imposter, because it would make her confession easier. Yet another part of her would be devastated, because once again, she’d picked the wrong guy. Right or wrong, though, it didn’t matter. If he was Derek’s red herring, she’d love him all the same, after all it would make them two of a kind.

“Val, as you know,
Pick Me
is infamous for planting an imposter, a bachelor who isn’t who he claims to be. Do you think Colt’s
Pick Me’s
imposter?”

She tightened her hold on Colt’s hand. “No. Actually, I don’t believe any of the bachelors are.”

Shepp knelt in front of her and took her free hand. Stunned, she looked at their joined hands. Shepp had never done this with the other bachelorettes, then again, maybe it had to do with the brief warning he’d given her about Jonas—something she’d never been able to follow up on—or maybe it was because he knew her outside of the show.

When he gripped her hand tight she looked at him. He held her gaze for a fraction of a second, but in his eyes she saw a fleeting glimpse of regret before he masked it with his trademark smile. “You’re right, Val,
none
of the bachelors are imposters.”

While the audience gasped, Valentina sent a silent thank you to Derek. Apparently he’d decided to give her a break and not throw a red herring into the mix this season. Brilliant, really. He’d given the show a whole new spin.

Grinning, she first looked to Colt, who smiled back and gave her such a heated gaze, she worried they wouldn’t make it off the set before she tackled his belt buckle. Keeping her sex drive under some semblance of control, she looked back to Shepp.

He’d lost his trademark smile, and the remorse in his eyes filled her with a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread. “Shepp?” she asked, no longer caring about the cameras or the audience. The calm, cool, collective host had lost all signs of his on camera charm, and it scared the hell out of her.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Sorry, Val, but the only imposter is
you.
”

Chapter 11

Valentina’s head buzzed with the onslaught of a full blown panic attack as members of the audience either gasped, hissed or booed. She tore her sweaty hand from Shepp’s and rested her forearm against her pounding head, willing the tears to not flow. There’d be time for a crying jag later. Now, she had to somehow make this right.

Colt still held her hand, or rather, she held his. He’d loosened his grip and now sat at arm’s length, his posture rigid, his face pale, drawn, his eyes wild with shock and humiliation.

“Colt...I...” She choked back a sob when a few people from the audience booed her again.

“Now folks,” Shepp said as he stood and turned to the audience, raising his hand. “Let’s quiet down.” When the crowd obeyed, he moved back to his chair and took a seat. “Val isn’t really a school teacher, but a former Production Assistant for
Pick Me.
When the bachelorette originally scheduled for the show cancelled at the last minute, Val stepped in and took her place. While I know keeping up the ruse has been hard on her, I think I speak for everyone on the set when I say we owe her a big thanks. Without her,
Pick Me
would have been cancelled.” He sent her a smile laced with gratitude and apology. “Thank you, Val.”

While she appreciated Shepp’s words, she still wanted to tear off her four inch stiletto and cram it down his throat. He could have warned her. He could have told her what Jonas and Derek had planned.

She looked past Shepp, past the blaring lights and the cameras, and narrowed her eyes on Derek and Jonas. Jonas, that rat bastard, stood with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. No, she wouldn’t waste the stiletto on Shepp. After all, he was only the messenger. But Jonas and Derek?

Derek.
A fresh tear rolled down her cheek. His betrayal hurt the worst. He’d been her mentor, and he’d used her for ratings. Damn. And he’d sat with her in the green room minutes before Shepp sucked her world into a dismal black hole, telling her about the plans he’d had for her, assuring her of a bright future. He’d lied, betrayed her trust, even after she’d put herself, and her reputation on the line for the show. So what if she would have gained something from being bachelorette? She’d worked her ass off for years for the stupid show, and had deserved a promotion long before the start of this disastrous season.

While the betrayal consumed her, clawing at her insides like a freaking Ginsu knife, she clung to Colt’s hand. Through the white-hot haze of anger, she suddenly realized he’d allowed his fingers to grow loose and limp. She didn’t let go though, worried that if she did, he’d sprint off the stage. That was unacceptable. She needed to explain, needed him to understand.

“Colt,” Shepp began again as she was about to give Colt the explanation she should have given him weeks ago. “Val has chosen you tonight to share a weeklong trip with her in Jamaica. After you’ve heard the truth about Val, you can either accept her invitation or decline it. The choice is yours. What do you want to do?”

Her throat tightened and she looked to Colt. His face had grown stony, and was reddening by the second, while a vein throbbed at his temple, and his pulse beat hard at the base of his throat. He had a right to be angry. A right to hate her at this moment. She’d humiliated him in front of the cameras, in front of an audience. If only she’d told him the truth. He could have made his own choice long before now as to whether or not he’d wanted to continue to remain on the show, remain in her bed, remain in her life.

But she hadn’t given him that choice, and now she waited for him to make his. Based on his rigid posture, the intense anger raging through his body and seeping into her hand, she knew the answer. She knew the man. Honest, forthright, he didn’t condone lying or coercion. While she might not have coerced him like Jonas had done to her, she had lied.

“Your answer, Colt,” Shepp prodded him. “You need to give your answer.”

“Colt,” she said with a ragged cry. “Please, let me—”

Twisting his hand from her grip, he abruptly stood. Without looking at her, he reached into the collar of his shirt, tore the microphone off, then dropped it on the chair.

Panic seared through her, gripped her, and squeezed tight. She couldn’t let him walk away, not yet, not ever. She’d never told him how much she’d loved him. How much he’d meant to her. Stomach clenching, guilt, fear, and sorrow sliced at her heart, tore at her soul. “Colt, please,” she sobbed, unable to control the tears streaking down her face. “Please, let me explain. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

His head shot back as if she’d struck him. He narrowed his eyes, eyes that only moments ago had held an overwhelming amount of tenderness and desire. Only now his denim gaze darkened with anger, betrayal, and utter disgust.

Cringing, she raised a hand to her lips and shook her head. “No,” she gasped, “you have to understand, just let me explain.”

As if he’d never held her, whispered how much he’d needed her, wanted her while he’d loved her body the way no man ever had, his handsome face, a face she adored, contorted into an ugly sneer. He drew in a deep breath, opened his mouth, then snapped it back shut and shook his head. Giving her one last disgusted glare, he stormed off the stage.

Some of the members of the audience clapped, while the rest remained silent. She could care less what any of them thought, the only one that mattered was Colt. Starting to rise from her chair to go after him, Shepp moved to her and kept her seated. His eyes bore into hers. “Stay cool,” he whispered against her ear. “Just another minute and you can go after him.”

Colt would be long gone by then. “I don’t have another minute.” She jumped from her chair and ran off the stage. Her heart pounding as she tried to lengthen her strides in the tight dress. Danny grabbed her arm as she pushed through the curtains, but she shrugged him off, wound her way through the back stage, ignoring the gratitude and the sympathy in her former co-workers eyes. When she reached the door, she shoved it hard enough it bounced off the brick building, then she dashed into the parking lot.

The rev of a large engine had her whipping her head to the right. At that second, the headlights of Colt’s truck came to life, and the Ford started to move. Panicking she wouldn’t make it in time, she hiked her dress high to give her legs the freedom to move, and ran, screaming his name over and over until her throat ached, and her screams became hoarse yelps. There was too much distance between her and the truck, but she kept running. Her lungs constricted, and a cramp seized her stomach. She pushed on anyway, she had to reach him. She couldn’t let him walk out of her life, not yet, not without at least telling him she loved him.

The truck’s tires squealed as Colt tore out of the parking lot and headed for his condo. Every part of him screamed to go back, to shake the entire truth from her, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. She’d taken everything from him tonight. His dreams…his love.

How could he have been so stupid, so gullible? How could he have allowed her to blindside him?
Sex.

He swore a litany of words that would have had him sucking on a bar of soap if he were a kid and his mom had caught him, and repeatedly slammed his palm against his steering wheel. His sweet and spicy Valentina had used him. For sex. For ratings. For the stupid, fucking show. And he’d believed her. Held her. Comforted her when she’d acted all scared about Jonas’ threats, when she’d talked about her past, when she’d become delirious and overwrought with passion.

While clenching his fingers around the steering wheel, he clenched his jaw tight enough it cracked and popped. If he didn’t rein in his anger, he’d need a dentist. Hell, maybe he would go see Trent. They could rock out and bash
Val
over a few beers and Nitrous Oxide. He caught his wry, piss-poor smile in the rearview mirror, then shook his head. She might have played them all, but he wouldn’t slander Valentina. Even pissed off and humiliated, he wouldn’t sink that low. He loved her. A part of him probably always would. She’d made him feel whole. She’d made him feel alive. Thank God he hadn’t told her. Thank God he hadn’t gone all slobbery and told her he loved her, that he’d wanted to marry her, make a bunch of babies together, and live the dream. He ran a hand through his hair before turning into his parking garage. If he had, tonight’s humiliation would have been so much worse. To his heart, and yeah, to his ego.

As he slammed the Ford into
PARK
, his cell phone rang. He let it roll into voice mail figuring the call was from Valentina, then took the elevator to his cold, lonely condo. After he’d locked the door behind him, his cell rang again. This time he checked the caller ID. Danny.

Colt hesitated for a second, then with a sigh, answered. “Yeah, Danny, what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Danny shrieked loud enough Colt had to pull the phone away from his ear. “All hell’s breaking loose here. It took three guys to hold Val back from beating the shit out of Jonas with her damn shoe.”

Colt snorted. “She’s your problem, not mine. I did my part, and now I’m finished with her and the show. There’s no need for you to contact me again.”

“Really? So you don’t want to get paid?”

Gripping the phone tight, Colt whipped the fridge open, then grabbed a beer. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“As an attorney, I’m sure you’re quite familiar with contract law,” Danny said with sarcasm. “Reread your contract, Colt. If the bachelorette picks you, in order for you to earn the money the show had offered, you
contractually
have to go on the trip to Jamaica. Otherwise, you forfeit your earnings. And if I remember correctly, you’d already promised to donate that money to a charity, right?”

Shit, damn and hell. He had, and while he made a great living, he’d spent a lot of money on the horses he’d rescued, and would rather not dip into his personal assets to donate the thirty thousand dollars.

“You still there?” Danny asked, with a smugness in his voice.

Colt took a long drink of his beer, then slammed it on the granite counter top. “Yeah, I’m here, and I read you loud and clear. What the hell? I’ll go to Jamaica. It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent vacation, but I’ll only go on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Wariness replaced Danny’s smugness.

“I want a separate flight and room.” A long pause ensued, and Colt took another drink of his beer. “You still there?”

“Uh-huh, I’m on my computer now checking flight schedules. I can get you out at five thirty in the morning, which will put you there hours before Val. As for the room? You’re on your own. When you arrive at the resort, check into it. If there’s an additional cost, it’s all on you.”

That he could handle. A few hefty American dollars in the right direction, and he’d have his own suite, far away from Valentina. “Done, but I want no cameras at the airport, and I don’t want Val to know I’ve switched flights.”

“Done.”

“Good.”

“Okay, then, you’re set to roll for tomorrow, I’ll email you the e-ticket and itinerary.”

“Fine.”

“One last thing,” Danny said, his voice low, almost menacing. “I’ve worked with Val for four years. She’s one of my best friends, and like a sister to me. Don’t hurt her.”

Hurt
her?
She’d been the one doing the hurting, the lying, the humiliating. She’d taken something he’d thought so pure, something he’d been so sure of, and shot it to hell. He’d loved her, physically, emotionally, and she’d used him. He just hoped whatever she gained from playing him for a fool had been worth stealing the love straight out of him.

“Gotcha, Danny.”

“Do you? Just keep in mind she had a contract, too.”

“So?”

“Again, you’re the attorney, figure it out.”

Colt shook his head, not in the mood for Danny’s cryptic bullshit. “It’s been a long day. I need to get some sleep if I’m going to make that flight.” Before Danny could say anything more, Colt disconnected the call. He liked Danny, but after tonight, he didn’t trust him. Of course the guy was going to go to bat for Valentina. She’d given up her Production Assistant job to save the show.

Dumping the rest of his beer in the sink, he headed for the bedroom, a strange, niggling feeling working its way up his spine. He couldn’t place it, and at this point, he didn’t care. He needed to crawl into bed because he’d have to be at the airport at the ungodly hour of four in the morning.

As he lay in bed, though, sleep evaded him. Everything that had happened tonight, along with everything that had happened over the past four weeks kept racing through his mind. Every one of her smiles, her soft sighs, the way she’d screamed his name when he’d made her come. Her laughter, her quick wit and intelligence.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. One more week. He’d endure one more week, like her, for the money. Only his went to charity, and it bugged the hell out of him as he wondered what she’d sold herself for. Hopefully whatever it was had been worth it. Worth all of the love he’d held for her. The love she’d destroyed.

*

Valentina stood outside the gate of her departing flight, while the other passengers—couples mostly—lined up, laughing and snuggling next to each another. Should have been her and Colt, she thought with bitterness as she took her place in line. Obviously Colt wasn’t going to show. He’d made his feelings clear last night, and crystallized them now by not being here to catch their flight to Jamaica.