The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,62

the filming to resume. The contestants’ table is staged for the upcoming dessert challenge.

Nadia is at her station. I’m on my mark.

Where the hell is Cynthia? It’s not just a thought banging away in my brain. It’s clearly what everyone in the entire place is wondering.

Over at the sound booth, Chase cracks the door open a touch. He gives me a questioning look: should I go find her? I shake my head at him and indicate that he should stay put. He slips back inside, softly letting the door close.

I spot a female crew member rushing over to Kenny. I manage to make out her words as she whispers to him, “Cynthia’s not 10-1.” I recognize the walkie talkie code number for ‘in the bathroom’. Kenny nods, his mouth tight. He shoots me a look and raises his hands in a kind of helpless gesture.

I nod back, taking his meaning. If Cynthia’s not back when this extended commercial break ends, he’ll have to start shooting without her.

“Twenty seconds!” The stage manager calls out, a note of concern in her voice. The tension in the room rises. I see crew members exchange bemused glances. They tend to get a kick out of things on a shoot going south, and it’s the talent’s fault. If it were up to them, they’d shoot the show without any of us getting in their way.

Finally, and seemingly out of nowhere, Cynthia pops into the set. Kenny visibly exhales and calls out, “OK, people, final segment! Look sharp!”

Lights pop on. Cameras find their focus. “Quiet on set!” calls the stage manager.

My muscles finally relax. I turn to give Cynthia a quick thumbs-up – and then I see the fury on her face. My first thought is, Oh, shit, what have I done wrong?

Before I can mutter a vague apology just to cover my ass before the cameras roll, she leans toward me and hisses, “Nadia’s fucking with me.”

“She’s just trying to intimidate you.”

“No, I mean she’s fucking with my stuff.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just got confirmation she’s been behind this from the beginning. Probably all the way back to the rats. I knew it!”

I glance over at Nadia, who’s pretending to be busy rearranging her ingredients while trying to eavesdrop on Cynthia and me. Her smug face now seems tense with a touch of worry.

“What did she do?” I ask Cynthia.

“She’s stolen some of my dessert ingredients and hidden them under her station.”

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me, would you?”

“Of course, I trust you, it’s just that –”

The stage manager calls out, “Fifteen seconds!”

My heart starts racing again. Cynthia wrings her hands. The desire to reach out and hold her is strong. I maintain my cool though. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kenny looking agitated again. “You’ve got to get in place,” I tell Cynthia.

“I’m screwed unless I can somehow out Nadia on live TV without looking like a petty bitch,” Cynthia frets.

“Listen, I’ve got a plan. We’re in this together, right?” Cynthia starts to protest. “Just trust me. OK?”

“Ten seconds!” the stage manager announces. Kenny’s eyes are bugging out of his head at me.

I ignore him and concentrate on Cynthia, which is easy to do, because she stares at me with unmistakable love in her eyes. My tension melts away. My heart rate returns to normal. And I have literally seconds to reflect on how far we’ve come from the night of the rats.

Then I have literally two more seconds to wonder how far she and I have yet to go – assuming my plan works.

“Five!” calls the stage manager. Kenny squirms in his seat.

“Do you trust me?” I ask Cynthia again.

“Four!”

“I trust you.”

“Three!”

Cynthia hops into place. I do a quick check of my shirt and a subtle check of my fly (always have to before the cameras roll). Then I focus on the stage manager as she goes to a silent count-in. She holds up two fingers… then one… then points at me.

A red light comes to life on the camera trained at me.

“We’re back,” I announce with my trademark grin. “And it is dessert challenge time, which means it’s our last chance to see who can take the heat, and who gets burned.”

I know where I’m betting my money, I think. But then, I’ve stacked the deck.

Just before I turn to the contestants, I reflect on the irony of the moment. If Nadia did release those rats that night, then she’s partly responsible for Cynthia and I coming