Chapter 10
SYDNEY
That sanity I’ve been clinging to is hanging by a thread, so I avoid Cy once the interrogation disguised as a date activity is over. If he approaches me now, I think I’ll lose it altogether.
Fuck. My intention was to stay downstairs, to get to know the women better, especially since I didn’t learn much else from the pool party interrogation.
About the women or Cy.
Cassidy is afraid of bees. That’s her response to the question about her biggest fear.
Cy admits that his most embarrassing moment happened when he fell off stage when Boys Next Door performed on an awards show.
Roman wisely doesn’t ask me any more questions.
Wisely or by design?
I choose to ignore that thought and the implications that it was Cy’s doing. Are they editing me out of the segment and sending me home afterward?
When the Q and A ends and we all clear out, Jade gives me a wide berth. Hell, all the contestants did, including Josie.
While it stings, it’s for the best.
It gives me the opening I need to excuse myself and dive into the background checks in my room. Before I get started on that task, I text Sawyer and Cole about Josie’s and Kendall’s tattoos.
Two of the women have Cy’s autograph on their inner thighs.
Josie Collins.
Kendall Pierce.
COLE
What did you do, sneak into their rooms while they were sleeping and check for tattoos?
Aw, Cole, you know my methods are more technical than that.
It might be time for me to dig up some pictures of you again.
COLE
Do it and you’ll regret it.
I heard Cruz is in the market for a new bodyguard.
SAWYER
Cool it, you two.
Sawyer’s message stops me from telling Cole that I’d rather lick Hollywood Boulevard.
SAWYER
Tell us more.
There was a question-and-answer activity. They both admitted they had the tattoos.
I saw Kendall’s, but not Josie’s.
That means one of them has to be Scarlett, right?
Case closed. We remove both of them, then I get the hell out of here.
COLE
Who gets a tattoo on their inner thigh?
I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed. But I have a bigger question.
Who wants Cy Fucking Darby’s name permanently inked on their skin?
SAWYER
Please tell me you didn’t say that to them.
I huff a breath. Dammit, I wanted to. But my restraint was award worthy.
No.
I listened to them talk about the tattoos and kept my mouth shut.
COLE
That’s it? They didn’t say why they got them?
You’re worse than a beauty queen looking for drama.
COLE
Careful or I’ll tell my wife that.
Cole’s wife, Hannah Grace, is a former Miss Tennessee. She’s also one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met and the older sister of one of my besties.
She doesn’t scare me.
But I’m feeling generous.
To answer your question, I guess Cy once told a teen magazine that his favorite place to autograph was the inner thighs of women and he loved when they made his name permanent on their skin.
COLE
That’s…fuck, I can’t even think of the right word.
Narcissistic. The word you’re looking for is narcissistic.
SAWYER
Does anyone else have the tattoo?
Nobody else said anything.
SAWYER
That doesn’t mean they don’t.
Fuck. I didn’t think of that.
I didn’t see anybody else’s inner thigh.
SAWYER
So any one of them could be Scarlett.
COLE
What do the background checks have to say?
I haven’t gotten to those yet.
I’ve been a little busy.
A knock sounds on my door, startling me and making my bobble the phone.
“Shit!” I hiss, catching it just before it crashes to the floor.
“Sydney?” The low, raspy voice sends a shiver through my body, calling to me on a primal level.
“Y-yeah?”
The knob turns, giving me exactly point-three seconds to tuck the phone under the mattress and scramble up from the bed. Fuck, how did I forget to lock the door?
Cy steps into the room and eases the door shut behind him.
His eyes widen as he looks me over from head to toe. Fuck, I hope the phone is hidden completely and not sticking out between the mattress and box spring behind me.
“I wanted to check on you. After that question earlier—”
The phone vibrates twice, silencing him, and his focus drops to the mattress.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It sounds like a vibrator going off down there.
“I’m fine,” I say, the words coming out high and squeaky. I cough and try again. “I’m fine. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t embarrassed by my number. It’s just—”
“Nobody’s business but yours,” he finishes for me.
I nod. “Exactly.”
“I told Mara and Alicia not to pull any other stunts like that. I’m not interested in that information. Not unless you’re volunteering it willingly. No one deserves to be sucker punched like that.”
“I’m okay. I’m a big girl.” I lift my chin and pull my shoulders back.
Belatedly I realize that I’m now sticking my chest out.
His eyes drift to my breasts and holds there for a prolonged heartbeat before he yanks his attention back to my face.
“You disappeared pretty quickly afterward, so like I said, I just wanted to check on you.”
The phone vibrates again. Dammit. I’m ready to crawl under the bed.
I don’t want him thinking that I came up here to double click my mouse.
Even if the thought did cross my mind. It’s a great stress reliever, though I wouldn’t go for it while everyone is awake and any one of them could walk in on me.
Especially when you forget to lock the door.
The amused—and interested—glint in his eyes tells me he really does think the sound is a vibrator and I needed some alone time.
“Thanks for checking on me.” I move closer in an attempt to back him toward the door.
Take the hint, dude.
Of course he doesn’t. But now that I’m only a couple of feet away from him, I find myself caught in a tractor beam. One he’s created as his warm brown eyes search mine. What is he looking for?
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs.
His words are quiet, barely more than a vibration, but I feel every syllable.
“Are you allowed to be in my room?” I ask.
Half his mouth crooks up in a grin. “You don’t strike me as much of a rule-follower.”
My mouth wants to quirk up in a smile. The man has me pegged.
Before I make a fool of myself, I press my lips together and narrow my eyes at him. How is it that I keep forgetting how much I despise him? He knows nothing about me.
Yet he senses that I hate following rules.
“You’re right. I’m not. Does that mean you’re going to tell me where your room is?” I ask, turning up the sultry a notch and moving closer.
Be careful. Be very fucking careful.
I’m playing with fire.
At least I recognize it. Even if I don’t want to stop.
He reaches out, his index finger extending. A fraction of an inch from my jaw, he stops himself.
A part of me—the bigger part—wants to lean forward, to relish in that electric spark that fires off each time his skin comes into contact with mine. Though I can’t say I mind the way the moment draws tight between us.
Waiting. Wanting with every heartbeat. Tightening with each breath.
“Cy! Has anyone seen Cy?” a man’s voice echoes up the stairs.
Cy blinks, and the moment passes.
“That’s Danny. My assistant.” He takes a step back, then another.
I’m not disappointed by his retreat. I’m relieved.
Keep telling yourself that, girl.
“He sounds upset.”
“I told everyone I was running to the bathroom.”
“I think you got lost along the way,” I tell him.
He barks a laugh. “No, actually, I don’t think I did.” His eyes turn serious, and for a heartbeat I think he might come back. That he might kiss me.
Do I want him to?
Hell yes.
No.
Dammit, the mixed emotions piss me off.
“Cy.” Danny’s voice is louder, like he’s climbing the stairs.
Saved from the decision by Cy’s persistent assistant.
“You should probably go.”
He reaches back and grasps the handle without looking away from me. “I’ll see you later, Sydney.”
I don’t like the way his lips wrap around my name.
I swear.
Yet, the moment he’s gone, I slump against the door and replay those two syllables in my mind, stupidly wishing he had kissed me.