Chapter 5 #2
And everywhere… there were women. I had only glimpsed a handful of contestants earlier, near the limousines.
Now I saw them all. Forty stunningly gorgeous, impossibly polished women filled the ballroom space.
They moved through the room in elaborate gowns that sparkled under the chandeliers, their hair styled in perfect waves or intricate braids, their makeup flawless under the soft lighting.
Some gathered near the bar, laughing quietly.
Others lounged across velvet sofas like living magazine covers.
Several stood by the tall windows posing for candid photos as photographers drifted around the room.
Every single one of them looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. And every single one of them turned at the same time.
Because Egon had just walked into the room.
The air stalled in my lungs. God. He was gorgeous.
The double doors across the ballroom swung open and he stepped inside, his massive frame instantly commanding every inch of attention in the room.
The glitter across his broad chest still caught the light with every movement, the strange sparkle turning his golden skin into something almost mythic.
His gaze swept the room in a single controlled motion.
Then it found me. For a heartbeat the noise around us seemed to fade.
His eyes lingered just long enough to make my pulse jump before they flicked briefly past me, scanning the space behind my shoulders.
Looking for the Prillon warriors he had trusted to guard me?
He found them immediately. Satisfied, his focus returned to me.
One of Chet's production assistants hurried toward him, speaking quickly while pointing toward the far end of the room where several cameras were already positioned. Egon listened without looking away from me, then gave a short nod and began moving in the direction they indicated.
Around me, the contestants reacted. Apparently, none of them had seen him before. Or met him. This was their first time.
"Is that…?"
"Oh my God."
"He's huge."
“He’s friggin’ gorgeous.”
The whispers spread through the room like a wave, passing from one group to another as he crossed the floor. Several women leaned toward each other, their eyes wide with fascination as they watched him move. And then some of them started looking at me.
Pointing. Whispering. I realized quickly that they were asking each other who I was.
They clearly all knew one another already.
Which made me the obvious outsider. Again.
Heat rushed into my face, and for a moment I seriously considered diving behind the nearest floral arrangement and hiding until the cameras left.
Instead, I stood there awkwardly while the whispers continued.
Across the room, Chet was doing what he did best. Circling. Socializing. Working the crowd like a glitter-covered shark. I heard him laughing as he answered questions from a cluster of curious contestants.
"She's new, ladies," he announced cheerfully, gesturing in my direction. "Contestant Forty-One!"
That only seemed to make the whispers louder.
Chet eventually drifted toward the front of the room, stepping onto a small, raised platform near the largest chandelier. Someone handed him a microphone, and the moment he tapped it the chatter slowly died down. His voice boomed through hidden speakers installed somewhere in the ceiling.
"Ladies!" He spread his arms dramatically. "I want to welcome you all." A wide, theatrical grin stretched across his face. "Welcome to Bachelor Beast! The hottest television show in the universe!”
Chet launched into the evening's schedule with the confidence of a man who had done this performance a thousand times. He outlined the plan for the night, reminding everyone about the detailed itineraries waiting in our hotel suites.
I didn’t have one of those. Yet. I’d ask someone later. Maybe Egon had one.
His voice carried easily through the ballroom speakers as he listed the rules in a tone that was calm, professional, and surprisingly serious.
No touching the Atlan Warlord without permission.
No fighting with other contestants. No speaking to members of the press without clearance.
And, of course, a reminder about the extensive non-disclosure agreements every single one of us had signed before stepping anywhere near this show.
The strange thing was that Chet wasn't flashy at all while he spoke. Gone was the glittering showman who had burst into my wedding like a human firework. Now he looked almost corporate—focused, controlled, efficient.
When he finally finished, the room buzzed with quiet murmurs again.
A tall blonde woman in a shimmering silver gown stepped forward from the crowd.
Her posture was perfect. Her expression carefully neutral, though the sharpness in her eyes told a different story.
She was stunning. I was pretty sure I recognized her.
Maybe from one of those swimsuit magazines.
Or maybe lingerie. She totally had the body for it.
Thin. Curved waist. Narrow hips. Larger breasts that flowed over the top of her gown.
It was the ruthless cunning in her gaze that made me hate her on sight.
She wanted Egon. Not because she knew him or cared about him, but because being chosen would make her richer and more famous than she probably already was.
"I thought we only had forty contestants."
"Surprise addition," Chet replied cheerfully without missing a beat. "Last-minute casting change. Now, ladies, in a few minutes we—"
The blonde's gaze slid toward me. Her eyes narrowed. She walked directly across the room, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she closed the distance between us.
"That's not how this works.” Her voice was cold. Calculating. And loud enough to carry through the room. "We've all been here for a week." She stopped a few feet away, studying me with open suspicion. "Who are you?"
"There was no guaranteed number of contestants, Jessica.
" Chet stepped down from the small platform and moved toward us with surprising speed.
In seconds he positioned himself squarely between me and the blonde like a very sparkly human shield.
"And the producers," he added brightly, spreading his hands, "wanted to spice things up.
" His grin widened. "We're already going viral. This is Emmy material, people."
He tilted his head slightly, his expression turning almost painfully polite.
Apparently, Chet did not like Jessica very much.
"Your contract remains in full effect," he continued in a voice that dripped with sugary sweetness.
"And, if you play your cards right, you are about to have more name recognition than the Queen of England.
" His smile widened further. "That is why you're here, is it not? "
Jessica's jaw tightened slightly.
"Don't lose sight of the prize, my dear."
For a moment it looked like she might argue.
Instead, she shot me a long, hostile glare before giving Chet a stiff nod.
Then she turned away. Within seconds she had transformed completely—her shoulders relaxed, a dazzling smile appearing as she drifted toward a cluster of cameras and photographers waiting near the bar. A real professional.
I watched her pose gracefully for photos and felt my jaw tighten. I knew her kind. Predatory. If she tried to seduce Egon, I would absolutely scratch her eyes out.
Chet turned back to me as if the entire confrontation had been nothing more than a brief commercial break. "Now," he said briskly, "here's how the evening works."
He explained that we would soon be moving into the larger ballroom next door.
Egon would already be waiting there while the contestants entered one at a time for their official introductions.
This was the official first meeting. The moment when the cameras captured each contestant encountering the Warlord for the first time.
Around me, the women were practically vibrating with anticipation.
Some checked their reflections in compact mirrors.
Others smoothed their gowns or whispered excitedly to one another.
The idea of meeting Egon clearly had them ready to burst out of their high heels.
Chet clapped his hands together once, satisfied with the rising excitement. Then he walked back toward me.
"You ready?" he whispered
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked quietly.
"Simple," he replied, hand covering his mouth. "You pretend." I could hear him, but he was making sure no one could read his lips.
What was this? It was like being thrown into a spy thriller without any training. I blinked. I was a horrible liar. Terrible. Seriously bad.
"On camera," he continued, "you're just another contestant.
He's just another Atlan Warlord searching for his mate.
The other girls don't know about the bond.
The audience doesn't know." His eyes gleamed with the thrill of a perfectly constructed television moment.
"You keep it secret. Meet in private if you want but keep it off camera.
" He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"And meanwhile… the sexual tension builds.
" He gestured toward the room where the contestants waited.
"The jealousy. The drama. The other contestants throwing themselves at him while you watch, knowing he's yours but unable to say it. "
"That sounds miserable," I said flatly.