Page 72 of Most Eligible
The three little letters bore into my eyes as Rhett’s words echo in my ears, his voice so resigned as he sold me out to Lainey. I take a screenshot, navigate back to the conversation with Roland, and take another screenshot. Then I open a secret window on Lainey’s browser, sign into my email, and start a new message to Serena. I add the photos and hit Send.
I sign out of my email, close the secret window, and clear herrecent search history for good measure. I delete the screenshots, do a quick check of her desktop to make sure nothing’s amiss, then shut the laptop before returning to the hall.
As I tiptoe back down into the living room, I shiver at the shadows of mounted animal heads creeping across the gleaming hardwood floor.
I inch along the wall toward the back doors, glancing repeatedly over my shoulder. How the hell does James Bond do it without having a breakdown every five seconds?
Something clatters on the veranda, and I stop in my tracks, quickly backtracking into the kitchen.
“Come on, Phil,” I hear Chloe say. “Just shoot me already!”
I’m tempted to peek around the corner and see what Chloe’s talking about, but I stay pressed against the wall, trying to keep my breathing steady.
“I can’t,” Philippa says, sounding winded.
“Why not?” Chloe asks. “You found me first. Just do it. I’m not going to win anyway.”
I inch closer to the door so I can hear better. I’d be sad to see Chloe go, but if she’s the first one shot, that might draw Lainey’s attention away from me.
“But I don’t want you to go,” Philippa says softly.
I hold my breath but I can’t hear what Chloe says next.
Philippa chuckles. “Fine. But if you leave, I’m sure as hell going with you.”
There’s a splat, and Chloe giggles loudly. “You couldn’t have aimed for a protected area?”
“That’s, like, three square inches,” Phil says.
A door slams from somewhere above and they go silent, then I hear Phil mutter, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Their boots clack away, and I crouch down as another set of footsteps echoes down the cavernous stairwell.
“Little Miss Georgia!” a singsong voice calls. Lainey. I breakout into a cold sweat as her voice grows closer. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
I try to get ahold of myself. I can either stay here, crouched against the wall, or I can meet Lainey with my head held high. Slowly, I get to my feet.
Her shoes click closer. Maybe I should run.
But I don’t have time to think of an escape strategy before Lainey enters the kitchen, a sickening smile stretching across her face.
She holds up her pink paintball gun and puts a hand on her hip. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Stay hydrated. There’s a lot of alcohol on set and you need to keep your wits about you.
—Shacking Up: The Definitive, Unauthorized Guide to WinningLove Shack
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lainey’s Cheshire cat grin makes me shiver. But she doesn’t shoot right away. Instead, she wanders forward, then leans on the kitchen island between us. The position only emphasizes her unique twist on a power suit: dark slacks, a matching blazer, and a peekaboo of red bra strap in lieu of a shirt. It looks like a knife slice in the middle of her chest.
“Are you having fun, Georgia?”
I’m shaking so badly that I have to set my paintball gun down on the counter, leaving me defenseless. Maybe I shouldn’t let it out of my hands, but something tells me that getting paint all over Lainey won’t score me any points. I give her a weak smile. “So much fun.”
I can’t help looking at the bison head mounted on the wall behind her. I wonder if its glassy eyes are actually hidden cameras. I shudder, unsure what’s more intimidating—the bison, the paintball gun, or Lainey.
Or the bottle she takes from a cupboard. She pours an inch of clear liquid into a tumbler and slides it across the counter to me.
“Drink up,” she says. “We can’t have you getting dehydrated.”
